#spnangst

“Maybe we should call Rowena,” Sam sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face.

She frowned in response.

“I don’t like this idea,” she grumbled.

“Me neither,” Sam huffed. “But we don’t have many options left.”

Upon surveying the table and the various books scattered across it, she had to agree.

They’ve been at it for months and weren’t able to find anything about removing the Mark of Cain. Now, after Dean had turned into a demon, they knew they couldn’t go through the same process again. They didn’t have another couple of months.

They didn’t know when the curse would take over again. Moreover, if it ever came this far, whether or not they could save him a second time.

Perhaps Rowena really was their last hope. As a powerful witch, surely she knew a thing or two about lifting curses.

Still, the huntress’s expression remained to be one of dismay and skepticism as Sam dialed the woman’s number. She didn’t know if they could trust Rowena, after all.

While Sam and her were digging through more lore and contacting possibly helpful yet dubious sources, Dean was busy staring at anything but his reflection.

He was in the bathroom just next door. Had been there for the past twenty minutes. Just standing at the sink and scrubbing his hands until they were raw.

He was barely able to make out Sam’s and Y/N’s voices from outside. The ones in his head were much louder. Much more persisent, even overshadowing the running water.

Hissing and screaming and taunting and aggravating — he could barely take it.

Making the mistake of blinking upwards, his gaze met his own eyes. Dull and circled with dark shadows underneath.

Sleep hasn’t been able to find him in days. Not since his girlfriend and Sam managed to inject him with enough purified blood to keep his demonic side at bay.

Not when he knew — they all knew — it was still dormant within.

Dean clenched his jaw, staring down his reflection and seeing nothing but 50% monster and 50% empty, pathetic shell. Or maybe, just maybe, there was some amount of guilt laced within there too. The past weeks and months were mostly a blur to him, mere snippets of clarity in between.

He remembered some of the hangouts with Crowley, drowning himself in even more whiskey than usual. He remembered some demons tailing him, all of which he killed. He remembered being dragged back to the Bunker. And, worst of all, he remembered going after Y/N.

He remembered the rush of adrenaline. The raw, pure joy the idea of chasing her brought him.

How could he possibly, in good conscience, ever look her in the eyes again?

After everything that happened, he didn’t have it in him to face anything anymore. Least of all her.

Why, out of all the memories that could’ve been so vivid, it had to be the image of his hand around her throat or that damn hammer aimed at her, he didn’t know. It felt like fate was being cruel to him. Then again, he couldn’t help but think he deserved it.

When splashing his face with cold water didn’t soothe his frayed nerves either, he let out a shaky sigh and turned off the faucet. The voices outside were clearer, though he still couldn’t make out what she and his brother were talking about.

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. The Mark of Cain was the hottest topic in the bunker. Hell, it wouldn’t even surprise him if they were just straight up badmouthing him. He would’ve deserved that, too.

Honestly, part of him hoped she’d talk to Sam. She sure as hell hadn’t talked to Dean about this mess. Not because she didn’t want to. Quite the opposite. It was him, who repeatedly shut her down. It was him, who avoided the much dreaded conversation like a plague.

He didn’t even know why — whether he was embarrassed to face his own (literal) demons, or if it was her he was scared of. At times he thought the second he’d even look at her for just a moment too long, she might get scared.

At least that’s what she should be doing.

Of course, she’d never.

She’s always been too forgiving with him. But Dean’s guilt didn’t allow himself to accept her kindness. He was broken beyond repair, yet she still bothered to pick up the pieces, when instead she should be turning her back to him.

He had hurt her, badly, in more ways than one. And he could never take that back or fix it. He couldn’t even guarantee it wouldn’t happen again in the future, which was eating him alive.

How could he have let it go this far?

Clutching the edge of the sink, Dean stared down his own reflection. His hands were twitching, fingers grasping onto the white ceramic so hard that his knuckles matched the shade. So hard until he could feel the blood pulsating in his knuckles. Until his muscles ached.

Until suddenly, within the blink of an eye, his reflection was shattered — split into several, small pieces.

A large crack went down the middle of the mirror, lines of broken glass spreading out like veins, when his own were flooded with poison. Like a spider’s web, when he could not escape from himself.

Dean’s gaze dropped to his fist, shaking and covered in crimson. The flow of the rivulets was both nauseating and strangely soothing. He staggered backwards until his back hit the wall and he slid to the cold bathroom floor. The blood dripped from his knuckles down his arm, right over the pulsating mark, which was still throbbing with hunger.

Head between his knees, face buried in his palms, he barely registered the panicked knocking at the door.

“Dean, are you okay?”

Her voice, though muffled by the door, pierced right through to him. Like he had been shot straight into his chest.

Far from okay.

“I’m fine,” he spoke, barely having the energy to raise his voice enough for her to hear.

She rattled at the doorknob, then knocked again.

Dean didn’t budge, not wanting her to see him like this. The back of his head softly thudded against the wall behind him and he stared at an empty dot on the ceiling.

Persistent as she was, though, her worried voice tried again: “Can you let me in?”

A pause. Heavy silence. Nothing.

“Please,” she added.

“C’mon, Dean. Open the door,” Sam’s voice chimed in and ultimately, Dean gave in with a sigh. He picked himself up from the ground, which took way more effort than it should have, lazily rinsed off the blood from his skin, and halfheartedly wrapped some bandages around his hand.

“Dean, open the—”

“I’ve heard ya the first time, man,” Dean groaned and unlocked the door at last.

He couldn’t meet either of their gazes. Not that he had to to feel their concerned stares.

Y/N’s eyes flickered back and forth between Dean, his poorly wrapped up knuckles, and the shattered mirror. Before she even had the chance to ask what happened, Dean pushed past both her and Sam.

“Hold on,” she tried anxiously, “Your hand, you—”

“I said ‘m fine,” Dean grumbled coldly, tiredly, then retreated to the kitchen.

Instinctively her arm stretched out in his direction. Although he was out of reach anyway, Sam placed a firm, yet gentle hand on her shoulder to prevent her from following Dean.

“Give him some time,” he mumbled, not sounding too convinced himself. Though he knew his brother well enough to figure he wouldn’t want a conversation, he wished he could do something for him as well. Still, it was no wonder Dean wanted to be left alone.

He was scared, it was plain to see.

“He’ll come around,” Sam sighed with a half-nod. “He always does.”

She could only hope Sam was right.

But more than that, she couldn’t help but feel anxious.

It wasn’t the first time Dean was pushing everyone away and part of her knew he did it to prevent a possible lashing out against them. But honestly? She would’ve preferred for the time bomb to go off, for Dean to burst, over watching him slowly fade away.

“I hope you’re right,” she mumbled in response to Sam’s comment. Then, she tended to the mess Dean had left behind, because cleaning the broken mirror was apparently all she could do right now.

Broom and plastic bag in hand, she carefully collected the shards of glass.

The task couldn’t have taken longer than a couple of minutes, but to her it felt like hours. Hours of waiting for Dean to come back out of the kitchen. Of waiting for him to immediately reinstall a new mirror in that habit of his to fix messes right away. Waiting for him to flash her a goofy grin. For him to stop pushing her away.

By the time the floors were swept, the sink cleaned, and the trash thrown out, there was still no sign of Dean. In the meantime, Sam was back in the library, having a phone call with Rowena that sounded ten times more urgent than earlier that day.

At first, Y/N danced around the kitchen like it was a contaminated area.

She reorganized the DVD boxes in the Dean Cave, by alphabetical order. She cleaned her gun, taking it apart and building it back together from scratch. Twice. She listened to Sam’s summary of his conversation with Rowena, something about a ‘Book of the Damned’ that might or might not hold the solution to all their problems. She helped him go through their library, then stayed at the shelves even after Sam announced he’d be heading to bed.

When after all those hours the only sign of Dean was still just the light from the kitchen seeping into the hallway, she gave up.

If Dean was ever going to come around, it wouldn’t be with her lurking about. And frankly, she too was worn down and tired, given that it was already way past midnight.

Thus, after getting ready for bed, she climbed under the sheets. And then, to nobody’s surprise, she tossed and turned. She kept staring at the door, which she had left open on purpose. A silent invitation for Dean to walk in whenever he was ready. Only that he never accepted the invitation.

Every minute spent in a bed that felt empty without him beside her diminished the chances of him ‘coming around eventually.’

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Slipping out of bed and into her slippers and fluffy robe, she left the bedroom.

It wasn’t just today. Ever since they brought him back and cured him, Dean hasn’t slept in his room. She didn’t know where he was staying, honestly. Her best guess was the library, but whenever she’d check, he wasn’t there either.

Most days she’d find him in the kitchen. Like today; he’s been in there the whole time.

Her footsteps were soft and careful, not wanting to startle him.

She found Dean sitting at the table, a mostly empty plate in front of him with only a few bites of a burger on it. At least he was eating again. He was currently busy rearranging and cleaning parts of his gun. Great minds think alike, huh?

She gently cleared her throat before she spoke up: “Don’t you wanna come to bed?”

With his back facing her, she couldn’t gauge his reaction, but she saw the tension in his muscles. His shoulders rising, then slouching. His movements paused just for a second before he continued fidgeting with the metal.

“No.”

He might as well have shot her with the gun.

Something in her chest tightened. The room temperature dropped. He wasn’t even looking at her. He hasn’t been looking at her the whole day. Longer than that. Much longer.

“I found this lead, in Washington,” Dean rasped then and she swore that must’ve been the most words he has exchanged with her in weeks. “Bunch of bodies with missing hearts, looks like a simple case of werewolves to me.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, though.

“You wanna take on a case?”

“Why not?” He shrugged, “better than going stir-crazy.”

Not that he was wrong.

They’ve been cooped up in the Bunker for a while, but wasn’t it better to rest? To wait until things were smoothed over a bit, and maybe see if Rowena’s lead would take them anywhere? But Dean had made up his mind before she could voice her opinion on it. He got up and nearly walked past her.

“Shouldn’t we at least wait until tomorrow morning?,” she hastily uttered, half-panicked, while blocking the doorway.

She didn’t gather all this courage to approach Dean only for him to walk away again.

Though his expression was distant, she was glad he was looking at her at all.

“I can make a stop on the road, or take a nap when I’m there.”

I? He wanted to go to Washington by himself?

“Not a chance, Winchester,” she huffed and shook her head. “Look, I don’t wanna be a mother-hen, but you can sleep here and we can all head out together. Tomorrow morning.”

Dean blinked at her, unimpressed, then he groaned quietly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Y/N—”

She didn’t let him finish. She had cut him some slack this whole time, but enough was enough. He at least owed her this.

“You can even take the bed,” she suggested. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

That took him off guard. His eyes went wide, his lips slightly parted in confusion as he struggled to find the right response.

“What?”

Standing her ground, insisting he should get a proper night’s sleep, she repeated her offer: “I can take the couch. Or another guest room. We have plenty of those anyway, it’s fine.”

Dean’s expression grew more and more puzzled with each word, like she was talking in a foreign language. “No. What are you saying?”

“Just… you deserve some rest and I don’t wanna occupy your space—”

“My space? Babe, stop, that’s not–” He sighed deeply. The crease between his brows melted, his eyes softening as something clicked in his head.“It’s our room, not mine. Has been ever since we moved in here.”

As much as she wanted to, she found it hard to believe him. She spent too many nights in that bed by herself, too many hours dining without him, doing groceries without him, not seeing a glimpse of him, let alone talk with him, for his words to make sense.

Dean has been avoiding her like the plague. Whether or not he was doing it for her sake, she got the message loud and clear: He didn’t want her near him.

More bitterly than she had intended, her voice pushed out a meek: “Then why am I the only one using it?”

The brief silence it earned her was deafening. She didn’t mean to blame him for anything, but how could she not feel neglected? Feel unwanted?

Dean clenched and unclenched his jaw. At last, his gaze dropped again and without the eye contact, he was a million miles away from her. Again.

“…I can’t sleep anyway. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Not only did she find it hard to believe, she knew he was lying. That blind trust she once had in him, was now cracked slightly. How could she take his word for granted when he’d been keeping secrets from her and withdrawing more and more?

She had a good reason to believe him going on a hunt, by himself no less, was a terrible idea. Last time she left him to himself, he disappeared, got killed, and turned into a demon.

Even if everything he did was to protect her, he should’ve told her the truth.

She wasn’t asking for him to act like everything was okay. She knew it wasn’t. All she wanted was for him to take care of himself, for once.

And if he didn’t want her to be part of that process, then so be it, but he couldn’t expect her to watch him destroy himself. Not again.

She took a deep breath. It came out shaky and she, too, had to cast down her eyes, which were red-rimmed from sleep deprivation and sorrows alike.

“I get it, Dean,” she muttered, weakness making her voice tremble. “You need space and time… and… honestly, I wish I could say that’s okay. I wish I could give you as much time as you need, but… I’m– I’m scared.”

As was he. He was terrified even.

In that moment he was as much deer caught in the headlights as he was the driver staring at the car crash. The sight of her tears was like a truck hitting him, though he was the one responsible in the end, wasn’t he?

Dean never wanted any of this for her. He was supposed to look out for her, not put her in harm’s way.

He was straight up poison for her from the very beginning, doomed by fate or whatever, and dragging her right down with him. It had only been a matter of time — he couldn’t even blame it on the mark.

No, he had been tainted long before that curse came around.

“Can’t blame you after what I did to you,” he spoke, his tone not wavering, but breathless and defeated nonetheless.

“What? No. God, no. Not of you, Dean. Never of you,” she clarified immediately, those glassy eyes of hers pleading with him. “I’m scared of losing you again— you’re slipping away from me and I can’t do anything to stop it.”

Despite his own resolution to stay away from her, for her own good, he snaked an arm around her waist. She accepted the offer immediately, burying her face in his chest.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she relearned the familiar scent of him and the comforting texture of soft, worn down flannel. It’s been so long that she almost forgot the warmth of his arms around her.

If she could, she’d drown herself inside of him, crawl into his skin and replace that cursed mark. But alas, her tears were the only thing his clothes soaked up.

It wasn’t much different for Dean. His senses reviewed all of her as well, committing every detail to memory once more. She still felt the same, and he felt like an idiot.

His arms around her tightened. Where his nose was previously buried in the crown of her head, he now perked his chin up and tucked her head right beneath.

“I’m right here,” he whispered, letting one hand comb through her hair while the other was rubbing small circles on her back.

“No,” she sniffled. “No, you’re not.”

He couldn’t blame her for thinking that. Dean knew he hadn’t exactly been easy lately. Nor had he been treating her fairly.

“Look at me,” Dean sighed and pulled back slightly. His heart ached when her fingers tightened their grip on his shirt, clinging to him as if scared to let go. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, hm?”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to crack a smile at his weak attempt of humor, but she simply couldn’t. Even as he cupped her face and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, the fear was still lingering.

Yet, she closed her eyes, allowed herself to relax into Dean’s hands, and nodded.

He took that as a small victory.

“Let’s go to bed, sweetheart,” he mumbled into her hair, weaving hope and warmth into the strands.

The tension eased from her shoulders, even more so when he wiped away her tears.

“Will you let me patch you up first or am I pushing my luck?” She mumbled, her fingers gently wrapping around his wrist and holding up his poorly bandaged hand.

Reluctantly, he nodded and let her guide him back to their room.

Figuring she needed this more than he did, Dean sat down and watched her carefully clean his cuts. He couldn’t care less about some scratched up knuckles, but she wanted him to be okay. She needed him to be okay. So, even if he wasn’t, he could let her do this small thing.

It was a start.

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With all that you had, you tried not to break over the reality of it all. You walked over to the lights to turn them on.

Without any thought, your hand grasps his large bag, but his hand clenched on the handle. Your heart scrunches into itself at the reaction, which makes your whole body stay tense. Somehow you found it in yourself to stare him down until he reluctantly let the bag go.

Along with putting the bag on your coffee table, you sit right next to and try not to let your body give off how freaked out this was making you.

You let out a small shaky breath as you felt the panging of your heart and tears trying to push out your feelings.

After your shaky breath, it gives you the vigor to ask him, “Once again, I ask, where are you off to?”

His eyes meet the ground, and he clicks his tongue. He meets your eyes with a sad expression before answering, “I think you already know…” You swallowed hard.

Your voice cracking slightly as you asked, “Fine. Better question...” You’re lip quivering with the, “Why?”

“It’s time.”

“Elabor-”

“Don’t make this harder, it-”

You didn't know what to feel first. Do you feel the sadness of him not wanting to stay with you? Do you feel the anger over the fact that he was going to leave you alone without any explanation? Do you feel frustrated over him not giving you much to go off as you question him? Then, there was the anxiety and aching for not him now wanting being happy where he was...aching because you wanted him to stay…

In the moment, it was a mix of it all, and you found yourself telling him, “You don’t want me to make things harder? Interesting. That would be so convenient for YOU. But, screw me right? I mean you were just gonna  go and leave me to myself….How hard do you think that would be on me? But, I shouldn’t make this hard...Not like you were gonna do to me.”

He bit at his lip, walked over a little closer to you before firmly and sincerely stating, “I don’t mean to hurt you.” While you thought it was sweet, it hurt to hear the words considering the situation. Holding onto the sweetness, you stand up and look him in the eyes with your hands reaching out to him and pleading eyes you say, “Then, don’t leave...because that’s going to hurt more than-” You tone was going in and out from firm to whispers. Finishing your statement weakly with, “ That’s going to hurt over anything else…” With shaky hands, you grasp at his jacket and attempt to pull him toward you. Even if the love lied in his glassy eyes, he seemed to brush past you, not giving you even a millimeter of contact to grab his bag, which made your stomach clench with a bad feeling. While you reached for his bag, you called his name, but you didn’t stand a chance.

“Y/N-” He goes over to the door and opens it. He looks like he wants to say more, but you see him pulling back. While you felt like you couldn't breathe your throat tight, stomach bruising, you yelled out, “Sam!” 

Momentarily,  he stopped in his tracks. Although you wanted to walk forward, you didn’t want to risk scaring him off. Not to mention, you were pretty sure your body was trembling by then. He doesn't look at you as you tell him with a crack to every word, “You can’t just leave. You can't just do this.” In a hushed and forced voice, you hear him say, “I’m sorry…”

“Why were you with me to begin with if you were gonna leave in the end?” He turns his head toward you and honestly answers, “I didn’t think I’d like you this much.”

“It doesn't have to change anything! We-”

“It changes everything. Goodbye.”  Tears falling without you noticing, you lunge forward landing on your knees and say, “Please….please, don’t go.” He looks away from you. He coughs out as he tries to regain his composure. He turns to you with a forced smile. Then, in a strained voice, he tells you, “I’m sorry and wish you the best.” With the last bit you have, you hoarsely yell, “Fine! Go!” You rose from your position and stride forward. He turned around to look at you, and he was shocked to see you walk forward pain written in every gesture and wrinkle on your face. You walked forward with all your emotions in your eyes. You held the door tightly and said, “ Don’t let the door hit you.” You slammed the door on him. The click of your door taunting you into a full blown sob. Without any more straight and a shuddering breath, you slid down the door.  It was over, and you loved him oh so much…Even now, despite it all, what wanted most in that moment was to hold him.

Despite it being weeks later, your body still reacts to the dream of the reenactment of that night, and you're left to a tense state with a heavy heart. Considering the heavy heart, it makes it more difficult to wake up, so your routine was to reach for his side, followed by cursing yourself for the emptiness every single time. It wasn't the first time you’ve relive that night, but you wish every time it's the last. The memory eating away at you in addition to the many recalls you have to the memories you shared and dreaming of the things you planned to do together. It seemed the more you tried to forget the more the world pushed you to do the exact opposite

Later that week, you were at work when you yet again remembered one of the sweetest memories with Sam. You and Sam were laying in bed, reading. You weren't too sure what either of you read, but you remember staring at him as he read. As Sam was immersed in his book, you watched him move his hair out of his eyes a lot even if the hair didn’t necessarily seem to be in his way. You noticed the way he laid his chin on his knuckle, and the way he used his thumb to graze his lips here and there in thought. His other arm helps the book close to him, and he’d kept snuggling it closer and closer. It was if he worried the book would run off. Having looked at him for quite a while, he turned to you with a smile and asked, “Are you just going to ogle me?” Your cheeks flush, so you cover your face and answer, “No!” He chuckles at you lightly.

“Then, what?”

“Just-Never mind.” When the dream ended, you felt a warmth spread through your body before realization hit, and you could only feel stress from the short memory

On the same night, you dreamt of Sam and you riding in a carousel. You were laughing at how big he was compared to the horse pole. He almost didn’t fit. He looked almost bigger than the horse. You called him, “Cowboy.”, and he chuckled at the statement. The sun was shining and illuminating him. His eyes glistening in its colors. His beautiful smile shining brighter than the sun to you. He held out his hand to you, and you helped hands as you rode. He made a motions like he had a lasso with his other hand, and you laughed when he wobbled a bit about to fall. He slouched forward in laughter, laughing close to your face in delight. When the dream ended, your eyes opened to feel a sense of light in yourself. You wanted that for him. He had mentioned that he’d never had the chance to do things when he was younger. You and him settled on a carousel because it wasn't over the top. However, you two never got the chance to do it as he left. Realization hit, and you could only feel stressed from the fantasy. A fantasy that could never come true. This was how you’d been spending your days, despite how much you didn’t want to miss him.

Sam’s P.OV.

The night I left Y/N was a rough one to say the least. I remember that as soon as I reached the outside, I darted for my car. After closing the door, it became too much to think about the look on her face. They were in so much pain...me, the cause. Quickly, I was opening the car door right up again and throwing up. I was disgusted. With an empty stomach, I put the car in gear and drove off with eyes full of tears. I’d wipe them away, but there wasn’t much use. I couldn't convince my body, mind, or heart that any of this was okay. I drove as far as my consciousness would take me, which was a good few hours. I stopped crying on the outside by that point, but it still hurt. I stopped at a motel, and I headed straight for the shower. Even if I could feel clean on the inside, I hope I could feel some kind of effect from being clean outside. When I finished, it did little to no effect. Not bothering to put clothes on just yet, I walked over to the counter in the room to see two bottles of wine. Without another thought, I started to drink out of one of the bottles, and I reviewed my bag to pick out clothes. Choosing whatever to wear, it ended up coming with a consequence: I found a small picture of Y/N in the pocket of the pants. I sighed drunkenly, wiping my face after taking another swig. I sat down on the bed and leaned on the headboard of the bed and laid down. How stupid of me to leave the picture there. Sadly and drunkenly, I fell asleep crying to the picture. 

The next morning, I felt awful. I was a little glad for it though, it was almost as bad as I still felt, so I was momentarily not thinking of Y/N. I was quickly to leave the motel almost leaving the picture on purpose, in the trash, but I didn’t have the heart and went back to get it. Idiot. I placed it in my bag hoping I wouldn’t have the urge to look at it again. I don’t know what possessed me to want to clean the car, but I did. However, I wasn’t taking the time to clean and was rushing around as I was hungover that as I was cleaning the car, I came across a bottle of cologne/perfume. It was Y/N’s. With about half a bottle left, it was a little spilled, and it slipped out of my grip getting everywhere. I groaned out in frustration, which earned me a look of judgment and fright from the people around. I played it off with a smile, but they all moved away from me. I drove off once again. Not really sure where yet. I heard about a few cases, but I didn’t know where to start. 

I opened the windows hoping it would help with the smell, but it honestly made it worse. While I hated smelling it, I won’t lie I enjoyed it. I just hated that it was impacting me this much. That smell stayed in the car for a week and a half as I tried to get a case going, but the cases were mostly duds with one salt and burn. I couldn't believe I was wanting to have some crazy monster that needed to be killed. I wanted a challenge. As I need it the most, of course, I couldn’t get that. Fuck you, universe. At least, with the smell gone, I was finally back on some better cases. Drowning myself in the work because what else could I do? 

After wrapping up a case, I was driving to the next possible case when my phone rang. It was a random number, but you never know, could be important. I answered, but regretted it rather quickly as it was Dean's voice ringing out, “What the hell have you been up to?!” I pulled the phone back a bit and sighed. Like nothing happened, I answered cheerfully enough with, “Hey Dean, haven’t talked to you in awhile. What have you been up to?”

“Cut the crap, Sam. You’ve been ignoring my calls. I know your working jobs a little too quickly for my liking-”

“How can you possibly make this about-”

“I’m just worried, Sammy.”

“I’m just working cases the same as you.” 

“What happened to staying around that one area for a little longer? Something happened?”

“I-It’s no different from any other place...I’m back at the same old routine.”

“Then, what with ignoring my calls? It took me to all but get a whole new burner, for you to answer.” I didn’t mean the next words to come out so bitter, of course the words, “Just need some time to myself. That’s not too much to ask is it? I have the right.”

“No, time to yourself is perfectly fine...It’s fine as long as you're not running from anything. You're not trying to deal alone, are you?”

“That’s rich coming from you. You’re not exactly Mr. Healthy Habits.”

“Maybe not, but that’s me. You don’t roll that way, and I think you should stick to not being that way.”

“I can deal however I want.”

“So, there is something wrong.” I could hear the smirk on his face.

“So what?!”

“Talk to big brother.”

“Dean-”

“Come on, limited time only, no judgements…” I let out a dry chuckle at that and told him.

“I know that’s not true.” I shook my head, but I kept talking, “I liked being in the area before...so much...I left it for that reason.”

“Oh, and area. Can you describe the area at all? Why is it so great?” 

“It was beautiful...truly handsome. It was a war-Point is, I miss it.”

“Does this area have a name?”  I know he knew it was someone, so I couldn’t bring myself to answer. “You’ve been separated for what a month, and your suffering? Don’t answer that, I know you are. Maybe that should tell you something.” He was indefinitely right. Y/N won’t leave my head and certainly hasn’t left...my heart. They’re in there. They have been for a while now. With the realization, I was quickly swerving the car around and going back in the other direction. Dean must have heard as he asked, “Sam, you okay?” With a small real smile, I responded, “I’m good. I know what I have to do. I’m going back to the place.”

“I’d love to meet this place if they make you act like this.”

“One thing at a time. Talk to you soon.” I hung up and began driving right back. The perfume/cologne I once smelled in the car was a scent I missed, but I could never miss it more than the real thing. I had to go back to them. How could I have left? So stupid. I already love them. It’s too late...Will they take me back? Every time I was brought back to hunting, it was never hard. Even if I may not have wanted it most of the time, it wasn’t hard to get back in. However, being pulled in and out of the hunting life, it couldn't compare to the hold Y/N had. I missed Y/N. I wanted to be selfish. I went to see her.

It took me a while, but I made sure to at least get some sleep. Well, It was more that I kept falling asleep, which didn’t give me the best judgement to say the least. It was late at night, and I was hoping they lived in the same apartment. In fact, I was breaking in going through the window after climbing the fire escape. Wasn’t too hard. If Y/N took me back, I would make sure to fix that. As I made it inside, everything was mostly the same, which I was happy for. My review of the room stopped short when I stared at the dead flowers in a vase on this small table in the living room. More specifically, they were dead, blue hyacinth flowers. Y/n usually changed them every once in a while for me. I couldn’t help think of the first time she gave them to me.

It was a relatively bright day. I was just on the computer looking for possible activity. I couldn’t help myself, and I was waiting for Y/N to come home. After a bit of time, Y/n came back. I looked over to them and smiled widely at their presence. They respond with an even bigger smile, which made my heart race. They inched forward with their hands behind their back in a weird position, which made me quirk my head at them before chucking and asking them, “Why do you look so smiley?” In response, they said, “I’m a smiley person, Sam. Can't I be that without being questioned?” They were definitely hiding something. Behind their back more specifically. I playfully scoffed and stood up before smirking and answering with a shake of my head, “No.” I knitted my eyebrows close together and asked, “Whatcha got there?” The huffed out playfully and responded, “Darn, your height. Close your eyes. I have something for you.” 

“What is it?” 

“Am I not about to give it to you?”

“I’m gonna end up seeing it anyway.” I grinned knowing it was getting under their skin just a tad bit. They commanded, “Just close'em.” I obliged with a small word of, “Fine.” I heard them step forward. I was suddenly feeling very nervous and interested in what I’d see. As soon as they said, ”Open them”, I did as asked, and they were standing there holding these blue flowers with one hand up and the other up. With a waving motion of the hand that was up, they said, “Ta-da!” I was not expecting that as I pursed my lips slightly, but I took the bouquet from their hands. I almost thought this was a joke or there was more to it, so I asked them, “These for me?” 

“No, I bought them for you to give to me.” With that, I knew they were mine. I couldn't help teasing them though as I held them out to them with fake seriousness. Y/N sent playful daggers my way, and I busted out laughing. “They are yours! Sheesh. Someone so smart.” 

“I knew. I did. You're giving me these...because...because…” I was racking my brain for the root of the gesture but I couldn't figure out the occasion. I couldn’t understand why they were giving them to me, and why I was making such a big deal out of it. Y/n noticed my thoughtful nature and asked me, “Is it too much? You don’t like them? They don’t have to be a big deal. Just felt like it...Just saw them and felt why not give you flowers…” Y/N looked down feeling a bit embarrassed with the gesture now. I didn’t want to make them feel bad, I just was surprised. It was so touching that it made my whole body heat up and my brain short circuit. I tried to recall if I’d ever felt anything more innocent in my lifetime, or if I’d had the experience of being given flowers like this. I couldn't grasp any of those memories, so I’d consider this a first. A beautiful first. The words, “I love them,” leaving my lips softly. Y/N nodded nervously. I stride forward and lifted them, so I could sit them on the countertop. They yelped in surprise, which made me love the moment all that much more. I slide my hands around their waist to meet on their back. I pulled them in close and kissed them softly. While occupied on their lips, I carefully laid the flowers aside on the counter. I really wanted to pay attention to them for being so sweet. My hands go on either side of their face. I remember pulling away and seeing the big smile on their face. With their thumb fluttering across my cheek, they stated, “I should’ve bought you flowers sooner.” We both let out a small laugh. I couldn’t help get a bit sentimental and admitted, “I’ve never gotten flowers before-I don’t think. I really really love them though...seriously.” They nodded their head at me acknowledging my experience, and they accepted that wholeheartedly. We stayed that way staring at each other comfortably and warming silence. 

After reminiscing that day and looking to the flowers once more, it gave me a little hope and dread all at once. That day, Not gonna lie, the flowers could be a bit of hope because they may still want to be with me. On the other hand, she could be too sad to move them, or let them die on purpose. I somehow ended up right in front of the vase, which also led to me knocking over a box after hearing the door open. I grimaced at the action and looked toward the door. They let out a small gasp and stood there with a phone in their hand with 911 reading across the top and a metal water bottle raised. The surprised look faded quickly surprisingly, and they nonchalantly talked to the 911 operator to say, “Sorry. False alarm. It’s someone I know.” Y/N hung up and looked very exhausted. They did look exhausted like they haven’t been getting enough sleep either. Very plainly, they said, “Gosh again?” I assumed they didn’t want to see me, so I tried to convince them by saying, “I know you probably haven’t missed me after everything that happened…”

“Trust me, clearly I missed you the 1st 20 times I saw you, and I missed you now but- I wish I’d stop seeing your beautiful face.” I squinted at them in confusion. Only to see them wiping their faces in frustration. 20 times? Could there have been a shapeshifter in contact with them. I stepped forward and asked, “What are you talking about?” I waved my hands at them a little bit because I was very concerned with that statement. They let out a laugh like they were crazy and stated, “Woah, look at that. My brain is really messed up because it's trying to convince me that I’m sane...I mean this is a little much. It’s one thing to have the dreams and flashbacks, but now I’m going as far as hallucinations.”

“I am thoroughly confused. Y/N, I’m not some hallucination. Although, if you were having some, I’d be very concerned how you got to that point.” They put their things down and took a drink of the water bottle before replying, “Hallucinations are just the icing on the cake to my fucked up break up process. I mean it wasn’t enough that I saw you in my dreams. Dreaming of the things we didn’t do. The nightmares of the fight we had. I mean it wasn’t enough to have that and not to mention the constant call back to the memories we shared. Now, I’m losing it. I’m hallucinating you, right now, and talking to open space. I must have gone crazy, and my brain is trying to protect me and trick me into thinking it's real…” It hurt me to hear that they’d been struggling so much. It made my body ache. “I miss you so much, but I really don’t want to keep seeing you.” 

“Y/N, I-” They stood up and walked past me and said, “Excuse me, I think I should ignore you before I really go mad.” With thinking, I grabbed their arm and asked, “If this weren’t real, could I touch you?” They got a little scared and pulled away, but I had to make this right somehow. Give them some kind of piece of mind. I did this. My intentions were a bit more selfish, but I hoped I could still honor that to some level because I just wanted them to feel better right about now. They looked toward me and said, “How would I know? I’ve never had hallucinations before.” I gave a small smile and nodded before responding, “That’s good to hear.”

“Why are you here? You were the one that left...” They turned their back toward me. I sighed, and they looked back over to me. I told them, “I know and that was a stupid thing to do. I was stupid…” They let out a small chuckle and expressed, “Now I know that it’s a dream. That’s exactly what I'd want to hear from you if you were here.” I wanted to laugh at that, but I kept true. I told them, “I’m serious...I’m sorry...I never meant for this to hurt you like this. You were right about leaving. You probably would have been worse off if I left without you knowing. I care about you so much...I'm sorry for causing this…” I didn’t realize I was tearing up until I felt them wipe a tear away. I could see the realization in their eyes, which made them move back and ask, “Okay if you’re real I don’t think you’d come here...Are you possessed? Are you?!” They raised the vase from before in their hand threatening me. On the one hand, good on them, but I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.  They were freaking out as they uttered, “Oh god! What is that thing you-ugh Sam told me to do with demons?!” I held my hand up defensively and tried to protest with, “I'm not-” However, I was cut off real quick when they pulled out the flowers from the face and threw it right in my face.

No One’s P.O.V.

Sam shut his eyes at the action of you dumping water on his face. There wasn’t any burning, so you asked, “Did it work?” He whipped his face and replied, “Was that holy water?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m not a demon, but I am very wet now.” He moved his hair out of face with his hand.

“Sam?” 

“Yeah. It’s me. It’s me.” You couldn’t believe it as you walked over to him. You wanted to reach out, but the hurt rushed through you. You stepped back and stated, ”Gosh, now I wish you weren't. Never thought I’d wish I was hallucinating so much…”

“Y/N-”

“No, I can't do this. Go.” You opened up the door for him. With all the pain that’s been had, you didn’t know if you could handle more pain. You didn’t even know exactly why he was here. Guilt? Worry? Sam’s always been a considerate guy. Maybe he wanted to make amends. Whatever the reason, you weren't ready for it, or more you were way too ready for it. You just didn’t want to be. His tempting words, “I know I messed up. Please don’t make me leave. I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear it-”, made you open up and respond, “That's the thing, Sam…” You sighed heavily and added, “I do want to hear it…” He walked a little forward. You couldn't bring yourself to move away from him. YOu missed the way he smelled, and the warmth that always radiated off of him. It was making you weak as you admitted, “All I’ve been wanting is to see you, hear your voice,...feel you again. I want to love you even still after everything...and I can't have that… I mean what does it say about me to forgive you so easily?”

“It’s not easy...I know that. You don’t have to forgive me exactly...I just don’t want to be away from you anymore...You deserve an explanation.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I have it.”

“I-Fine.”

“Thank you...I left because it was getting to be too real and it was dangerous to want you so much. ”

“Then, why would you come back? Are you gonna stay?...How do I know you won't leave again.”

“I won’t. it’s too late for that.”

“Too late? What are you talking about?”

“I left thinking that I could get away from us when, but I couldn’t...I still love you…” Your ears and senses perked up at the declaration.

“Still? Still love me? We haven’t even said that the first-”

“I love you, and I loved you that night I left. I didn’t realize it until I left and was away from you. I was running from the feeling of love, but it didn’t make a difference.”

I loved you that night I left. Even though I left because I love you that's the exact same reason why leaving did nothing.”

“Sam…” He takes one more step forward, and he puts his hands intertwined with yours. 

“It was wrong of me to leave. It was getting to close with you. I thought leaving would fix that. Keep you safe. Keep my heart from holding you in my heart. Which failed….It just once you’re in...I’m scared to death something will happen…You’re hold is too strong though you’ve made me destined to love you...”

He laid his forehead to yours. You close your eyes and embrace the feeling of having him close. The feelings that bursted all over, and the heat from having his skin on yours. With tears falling from yours eyes, you look over to him just as emotional.

“You really hurt me…”

“I know...I’m sorry.”

“But, god are you so sweet. How can I say no to you after everything you said?”

He leaned his face closer to yours and whispered desperately, “Can I stay?” His eyes unwavering in the emotion of desire. You nodded to him, and he enveloped you in a hug. You laid a kiss to his lips. All of the suffering from before reversing into happiness and joy with 10 times the power.

“He’s alive, don’t know why but he’s a demon.” He stated.

“A demon but, the tattoo you guys have.” I said, almost asking a question in that.

“I know, not sure if it’s intact. It could be the mark.” He said. The mark?

“You might have to get me up to speed on what you guys have been doing, what mark?” I asked.

“The Mark of Cain.” He said.

The next half hour was him saying he got the mark from Cain himself, on a mission to kill Abaddon. Now they were on a mission to kill Metatron, but Metatron killed Dean in the process. Now he’s a demon, doing god knows what.

“I’ll be on the lookout Sam.” I said.

“So, you’re not coming back, I know he can be a dick but, it’s Dean. It just takes him a while to warm up.” he tried to beg me back. It might have worked.

“I’ll have to think about it Sam,” I told him. Hesitant maybe at the thought of getting back with them. “I might, this hunting solo thing, it’s tough.” I said.

“I know, Dean did it for a while before he found me. Not sure how he got by, but I know we can save him. It was something I learned from the trials.” He said.

“The demon cure? Sam, what are the chances it would work and it not working?” I asked. There was that chance it could work.

“Never know until we try, we have to find him first.” He said.

“Like I said, I’ll keep an eye out.” I said.

After assuring him I’m fine right now, and I’d call him if I found him. Knowing Dean, not only making the search for him my top priority, I searched every bar with in a 50 mile radius.

I came across one, just by accident. I was done for the day, got a room down the road just needed a drink to unwind and relax.

“Hello Ferret.” A familiar brit or scot whatever.

“Crowley,” I say, meeting his gaze.

“And why do you give me that nickname, I’m not a ferret.” I whine.

“Would you rather I call you a rabbit?” he asked.

“Yes, rabbits are cuter, and they’re not mean.” I said.

“What brings you here?” he asked.

“Finishing up a long hunt, needed a drink. Now leave.” I asked, as the bartender brought me my drink, whisky on rocks.

And then I sensed someone sitting next to me, a little too close.

“Not interested.” I said coldly.

“Not even for an old friend.” It was Dean.

“An old dick ass of a friend.” I said harshly.

“I deserved that.” He said, stating the obvious.

Taking a sip of my drink. “What do you want Dean?” I asked coldly.

“Did Sam send you?” he asked.

“No, I was working a salt and burn nearby. Happened upon some witches at the same time, putting an undead asshole to rest, I’m exhausted. And I just want to unwind, and be left alone.” I said, lying at the same time. There was no witch.

“Tired of feeling exhausted all the time?” he asked. “Feel like you’ve lost that drive.” He adds.

“Doesn’t everyone?” I asked. “And you’re sounding like a, Viagra commercial or something.” I added.

He just smiles, clearly up to something. And gets up to leave. But I follow behind, leaving my payment for my drink on the table. In an alleyway, Crowley was there and did some spell that forced my feet to remain glued. I couldn’t move. Dean turns around, holding a small vial. It had dark liquid. I could only assume it’s his blood, his demon blood.

He starts walking up to me. “You’ll be a hunting machine; you’ll never be tired again. kill all the bad and not need a break.” He pitched.

“Sounds tempting, but pass. Sam nearly died when we tried to detox him off of demon blood. I’m not going down that stupid path.” I said.

“Oh, but my blood’s different than Ruby’s sweetheart.” He says. And he is close, he pulls the lid off.

“And you’re going to try it, one way or another.” He says.

Closing the distance, grabs my hair jerking my head back. The sudden sting of pain I gasped; he forced the red metallic tasting liquid through my lips. Once the vial was empty, he forced my jaw shut, forcing me to swallow. But I hold the liquid. I heard him groan in frustration, firm fingers stroking almost harshly on neck, forcing the muscles to relax and swallow.

The taste, was awful but the effects. Hearing became so keen. All the senses became keen. I smelled EVERYTHING. Heard everything to the fine pitter patter of his heartbeat. My head began to spin at the new senses.

“The high will last a bit, keep you busy for a while.” He said.

My gaze zeroed in on an individual. I saw fangs drawn; it was an alleyway across the main road from me. A vampire drinking from his next victim.

I sprint, faster than how I normally would run. Almost inhuman. And I grab him by the throat, throwing him away from the girl who dropped nearly lifeless, her heartbeat beating faintly. I took out my machete I keep on me, under my shirt on my back. And I behead him right then and there. Burning his body in an empty dumpster, I take the girl to the ER. And I call Sam, telling him I found Dean only for the phone to answer to some dude named Cole. He’s looking for Dean, for revenge.

“You don’t wanna do that, he’s not exactly,” I began only for him to cut me off.

“I don’t care, he killed my father, I vowed revenge.” He yelled.

“Fine, but it’s your funeral.” I said, hanging up. Now I have to warn Dean.

I think I’m still on my high, because I can smell him. I remember his smell, his scent. But he knew right away I was there at the bar.

“Can’t get enough sweetheart.” He says coyly. A smirk followed.

“Someone is after you, not Sam, a dude named Cole.” I said.

“Let him come, it’ll be his funeral.” He says.

“Already did, just don’t kill him.” I say.

“He your boyfriend or something.” He says.

“No, humility, I have a heart and soul. He’s just a hurting human, out for revenge for his father.” I explained bluntly.

He takes a drink from his beer. “You want more?” he asked.

“My head is starting to split in two, I feel sick. If this is the withdraw, yes. I want more.” I said.

He chuckles. “You give in too easily, meet me at your motel room.” He said.

 He was true to his motive. I had gotten out of the shower, and tried to sleep but the pain, vertigo and the sick feeling would not subside. I sat on the edge of the bed, massaging my temples.

I felt the bed dip beside me.

“Ready for another hit sweetheart?” he asked, holding up his wrist, and in his hand a regular pocketknife. “Gotta be quick before I heal.” He says, bringing the blade across his flesh. And I see the blood ooze freely from the cut.

I tried to resist it. Turning my head away, but he just eggs it on. Holding his wrist closer to my lips. I felt the warm liquid touch my lips. Tasting the metallic flavor on my tongue. I was hooked.

My lips latched on; I began to suck on his wound. Feeling the liquid pouring into my mouth. I held his wrist close. At the same moment, tears began to sneak through my closed eyes.

I could feel him petting my hair, soothing me.

“That’s it my little junkie. Drink up.” he says.

What turned into two, turned into four, six then too many to keep track of. But once Sam found Dean, cured him I still tried to hide the fact that I’m going through withdraw.

It was the same night he was cured; I hadn’t had a hit of demon blood since Dean was cured, even days before then. I wanted to get off of it before I was in too deep. I tried to convince myself I could do this on my own. I didn’t need help. I even tried hiding it from the guys.

I think the dead giveaway was I was sweating, shaky, irritable.

I sat in my room on my bed, dead center of it with my knees hugged at my chest. My door opens with a loud thud. Sam walks in, angry yet concerned Dean right behind.

“You drank demon blood!” he shouted.

“I was going to tell you; thought I could do this myself.” I said. Bringing my head to my knees.

“We could have helped you.” Sam continued to shout. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him or attempting to.

“We’ve been through this before. We can help.” Dean says.

“It’s so bad, my ears are ringing, it’s so bad I can barely hear you. My head wants to split in two, the smells burn my nose and the light hurts my eyes. I can’t take it anymore.” I cried, placing hands on my ears, cradling my head.

“Y/N,” Sam says softly. “It’s withdraw, it’s going to be bad for a few days, maybe a week, depending on how much Dean gave you.” Sam explains, kneeling next to the bed.

“In the meantime, we’re going to have you in the dungeon while you go through the worst of it.” Sam adds.

“Am I dangerous?” I asked looking up at Sam, tears in my eyes at the fear of what is happening to me.

“No, well maybe. We don’t know how you’ll be during this. I know when I was going through it I had to be strapped to the bed.” Sam says.

“I just want to get better.” I cried. Bringing my head back down to my knees. I felt the bed dip. A familiar smell. Dean.

“You will, with our help you’ll get better.” Dean says, placing a strong arm around me hugging me from the side. I hug back, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“This is going to be a hard road, it’ll seem long, but we’ll be there for you to lean on. Give you a little push, but you will get better. Just got to keep on fighting sweetheart.” Dean says. I nod in his chest.

“I just wanted to be a better hunter. I wanted to find you all the same. I was tired of how weak I was, how easily tired I got, how easy it was to catch me, to hurt me.” I continued.

“Sweetheart, you’re better than any of us. And you’re going to get through this, because you’re a badass. You’re strong. But once you come out of the other side of this, you’ll be even stronger. Trust me.” Dean continues, rubbing my arm and shoulder in the hug.

“Come on, let’s do this.” Dean says, getting up. Leading me to the dungeon where I was going to fight for a better me.

Let me know what you think reblog/ask, feedback is fuel for success and better fics for all creators. ps, sorry for the long delay. had a rough week. :)

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Dean tags:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl

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