#the pining

You were on Dean’s thigh, his hands gripping tight as they push and pull - encouraging you to ride him. 

This is humiliating, you worked so hard to hide the desperate lovesick girl behind your mask of the unbothered badass hunter. And he was making fun of you for it. 

“Deannn” you whined loudly, “Need more, need you” Begging for him, despite the demeaning way he was treating you. But you weren’t going to complain, he was giving you him. Even if it was only for a night. 

“Y’re a pathetic needy lil’ thing” he sneers “Keep goin”

He didn’t let you come like that. Just continued to taunt you with his words, edging you on his thigh. Until he dragged you off and pushed you to your knees. 

“Y’ talk too damn much. Show me y’ can do somethin useful with that mouth hmm?” He growled with a smirk as he slapped your face with his massive cock. 

You barely got your lips around him, when he gripped your hair with both hands. Shoving himself into your throat as you sputtered and gagged around his length. 

Dean groaned, head tipped up to the stained popcorn ceiling of the motel room. “Thought ‘bout using this loud mouth f’ a while.” He chuckled as your throat hammered violently around him, trying to force him out. “This’s better. Y’ just needed somethin to choke on huh?”  He taunted as he stared fucking your throat. 

Tears spilled down your cheeks, drool dripped out your mouth, as you continued gagged around him.

He didn’t seem to care, or even notice. Too busy using you like a fleshlight. 

You didn’t stop him. You knew it had to get better, you’ve been on the other side of enough thin motel walls and heard women scream his praise. Hell women have come up to you unbidden and told you how incredible he was and how lucky you were to have access to him all the time. Which was weird and horrible and only now do you realize he must have asked them to do that.

All that had had to be for something right?

Next thing you knew he’s dragging you up by the hair and pushing you back into bed. Crawling over you. You barely had a second to breathe before he spread your legs and thrust inside you. Bottoming out all at once. 

“Dean” you wailed, tears still lingering from the way he just abused your throat. 

He was big. Long and so damn thick. It was too much. He was too much.

You felt like you were being ripped in two. He was shaping your pussy to fit him by force instead of giving you a damn second to relax and open up for him. 

He didn’t even finger you first. Or put on a damn condom. 

He didn’t wait for you to adjust either. Just grunted and pulled almost all the way out before he slammed back in. 

Pain never subsided to pleasure. 

Each hard thrust made you whimper as you tried to wiggle your hips away from him. 

“Shut up and take it sweetheart. Know y’ want it. ‘Ve seen ya starin at me” Dean groaned, slamming his hips harder into you. Tilting your hips up with a bruising grip to slam even harder against your cervix. 

You choked back a sob, heart breaking as he broke your pussy. Arousal that you desperately tried to hang onto sufficiently extinguished.

Every thrust painful - stretching too far at your entrance, burning as he shoves against your tight walls, and slamming too hard into your soft sensitive cervix. 

He chuckled at your tears, “that’s it, finally bein good. Quiet n cryin for my cock”

You could’ve told him to stop. You should’ve told him it hurt. Physically. Emotionally. Bone deep hurt. 

But he seemed so…thrilled. Smug and smirking and grunting as he found his pleasure. 

You arched your back, whimpering softly, playing your role perfectly. Even as a deeper pain than you’ve ever experienced slams into you with every thrust. 

Suddenly, Dean slapped you hard across the face, before his massive hand wrapped around your throat, choking you. “Hush. Be a good little slut and take it”

The tears flow faster now. Your broken heart shattering farther. Your body slightly shakes from the brutality of it all. 

He takes the shaking you mean you're close, and chuckles. “You can come when I do”

You gasp, surprised that he would even allow that. 

His thrusts get even harder, more erratic. His hand tightening further around your throat. 

You keep your eyes open, despite the black spots threatening to take over your vision, watching the man you thought you knew use you like a doll to find his pleasure. 

When he grunts your name, hips studdering, flooding you with his cum - you put on the best performance of your lifetime, arching and clenching and rolling your aching pussy walls around him while trying to breathe out his name, as you fake an orgasm. 

He breathes once. Twice. And then releases the grip from your neck and your hips. Dropping his head into your shoulder. 

You finally catch your breath, as you count the ceiling tiles above you to ground yourself and stop your tears. You can cry when he leaves. 

After a long minute, Dean kisses your shoulder and sighs. “Damn sweetheart that was awesome”

You chuckle flatly, hoping he’ll take it to mean you’re tired. Or that your voice is too sore throat from the choking to respond. Both are also true. But that’s not why you don’t respond. What could you even say to him right now? What should you say? You can’t think of a different response, so you just drag your fingers across his back. 

He lets out a soft grumbling sort of purr. And it makes you want to cry all over again. 

Eventually he pulls out of you and you gasp as the ache deep with your soft walls flairs to a sharp pain. He smiles softly at your noise and sits back. He’s got a gentle lovesick look about him, as he takes in the obscene sight of your poor abused cunt dripping with his cum. Though you’re not sure how much he can see in the mostly dark motel room. 

He doesn’t try and clean you up, just uses his thumb to smear it over your cunt and thighs with that same soft lovesick smile. 

But to your surprise, and dismay,  he doesn’t get up and tug his pants on and leave. No, he flops back onto the pillow next to you and tries to pull you close. 

“Hold on” you say with a pained croak, swallowing down your emotions and pushing his hand off “I gotta get up first”

You turn your back to him as you hide the grimace that twists your face, as that sharp pain flares out from your core throughout your whole body while you sit up. 

Your legs are a little wobbly with the ache deep in your pussy, but that’s fairly normal post sex so you don’t bother trying to hide it as you take the few steps to the bathroom. 

————

You almost gasp when you see yourself in the mirror under the bright bathroom lights. You look… well you look like you got in a fight. No - no you look like you got beat. Hair a tangled mess. A bright handprint on your cheek. A matching red handprint around your neck. Fingerprint shaped bruises are already starting to form on your hips. Bite marks you didn’t even notice him leaving across your neck and collar bone. When you start to clean up his mess you notice a few spots of blood between your thighs. You clean up quickly after that, not allowing yourself to spiral while he’s still in the next room. You pull on a pair of period panties and a tshirt before heading back to bed. You just need to hold on til he leaves, then you can have a meltdown. 

When you tuck yourself back into bed, Dean immediately wraps his still naked self around you. Placing a kiss to the back of your head. A big warm palm pushing up your shirt to settle low on your stomach. Right where cramps are starting to throb. 

His breath slowed quickly. It was barely 5 minutes before you heard his soft snores. 

Quiet tears flowed quickly once you allowed yourself to feel the hurt. Not just the hurt- Frustrated, humiliated, heartbroken, angry, distraught, sad, alone, and about a million other emotions all swirled together in a pitiful storm as you replayed the night. 

Sam left pretty soon after you got to the bar, claiming there’s a book in a library a couple hours away that would help with the case, promising to be back by lunch tomorrow.  Dean surprised you when he didn’t prowl the bar for a hook up. He stayed by your side all night. And after a few drinks you allowed yourself to indulge in his flirting instead of your usual brushing it off. You even flirted back a little.  Before long he was kissing you, tasting like cheap whiskey and sin, and groaning into your mouth asking to take you to bed. Your heart fluttered helplessly, even while your stomach was twisting. You knew this was just sex. Just drunk sex. It’s Dean after all, his only form of relationship was ‘just sex’ after the bar. But at least you’d get him like this.  You knew he’d ruin you. Just you didn’t expect him to ruin you like this.

You wanted to be mad at him for hurting you. Be mad at Sam for leaving you alone with him for the night. But you couldn’t. You were mad at yourself. You should have gone to the library instead. You shouldn’t have given in to your little crush and flirted with Dean. You definitely shouldn’t have let him into your motel room. But most of all, you should have told him to stop. 

————

You barely slept all night, the throbbing pain that seems to flare from every inch of you made it impossible to relax. Not to mention the endless swirl of emotion. And the crushing anxiety of what now? 

When it was finally late enough to seem like a reasonable time to get up, you grimaced and walked stiffly into the bathroom.

You definitely looked worse this morning. But at least you were all out of tears. And the overwhelming storm of emotion has numbed to nothingness. You had made a plan, and you would execute it to perfection.

The dim yellow bulbs of the dingy bathroom do nothing to hide you from the view in the mirror. There were dark purple circles under your eyes, which were red and puffy from a night of quietly crying. The handprints on your face and neck were now clearly bruises, they turned a dark red and purple over night. The bite marks almost look like a bruise from a paintball gun, but with teeth marks. The ones on your hips were like black shadows of his fingers. 

You washed up quietly with cold water, hoping to reduce the swelling. Then you got to work covering the marks with makeup. You had gotten pretty good at covering bruises as a hunter, but never have had to use your still for something like this. 

They were still there, if you looked hard enough. But you were sure Dean wouldn’t notice. He never noticed when it came to you.

Your throat still hurts to swallow. And your aching pussy was still bleeding. Not enough to warrant a trip to the ER but enough that you were looking up the closest women clinic. 

After taking a few Advil and a few steading breaths, you dressed and then made your way back to the bedroom. 

“Mornin” Dean rasps, voice heavy with sleep. As he turns to look at you. 

“Sorry” you croak out painfully “Did I wake you?”

Dean grumbles something indecipherable as he turns again to lay on his back. 

“I gotta run some errands so I’ll be out of your hair in a few. You can go back to sleep. Sam isn’t supposed to be back for a few hours” your voice strained, barely more than a broken whisper. But it hides the flat, emotionless tone that you don’t have the energy to cover. 

Dean pushes himself up to his elbows, looking at you. “Want company?” 

That’s weird. Dean hates running errands. And early mornings. And you’ve never seen him spend a second with women once he brought them to bed. 

“You hate running errands Dean” you rasp coolly, cocking your head. “Get some more sleep, I’ll be back in a bit”

You didn’t give him a chance to argue. Turning your back to pull on your shoes.

When you turn back around, a still very naked Dean is crossing the floor to you. His deep green eyes search you for a second before he dips to place a soft kiss on your forehead and wrap you in a hug. 

You stiffen at his touch, but quickly soften enough to seem affectionate. Forcing out a weak breathy laugh,  you mutter “I’ll be back soon” before you untangle yourself from his arms and walk out the motel. 

You don’t bother spending more than a second trying to analyze what that was. It’s not like Dean meant anything by it, maybe reminding him of Sam’s return made him feel like he should be normal around you. Although you can’t remember a time he hugged you that wasn’t after a brutal hunt. And that only happened twice. Whatever. Dean clearly isn’t who you thought. You’ve obviously been letting the rose colored glasses of your crush affect you. 

You thought you heard something crash in your room behind you, so you scurry as quickly as you can with your stiff steps around the corner. You can call a cab from somewhere else. 

A moment later you hear Dean burst open the door and call your name. “Sweetheart?” He calls again, seeming almost frantic. 

You don’t turn back, no you pick up the pace and turn down a small side street and call a cab. 

And ignore your phone ringing in your bag. 

————

Dean’s head was spinning, and not just from the alcohol last night. 

You finally, finally give him the time of day last night. You didn’t ignore his flirting. You didn’t brush him aside or give him shit the second Sam left and distract yourself with anything other than him. No, you flirted back.  Flirting turned to making out. Making out turned into the best fucking night. 

You were even more perfect than he imagined. And  he had imagined plenty when it came to you.

He’d been trying to get with you for what felt like a lifetime now. And it wasn’t just lust anymore. You are a hot little badass, of course there’s lust. But as he got to know you, he realized you were a whole lot more. You had fire of course - you gave him shit constantly, but you could be soft and sweet too. Especially with strangers. And you were so damn thoughtful, from victims to waitstaff, even to him and Sammy. You had also become his brother's best friend - and that warmed something deep inside him. You related to Sam in a different way than he ever would, talking in circles about some high level brainiac shit he didn’t even try to understand. You would watch weird foreign films and eat rabbit food together and he loved that his brother had someone for that. He wasn’t even jealous, it was so clearly platonic between you. 

His fantasies had expanded way past a night in bed - he dreamed of you curled into his side in crappy motel beds, of showering off long hunts together huddled under the weak stream of dinky motel shower, of stolen kisses in a dark dive bar, of your hand intertwined with his as he drove. And in the early hours of morning after a few particularly brutal hunts, he’s even dreamed of retiring with you. A little house with a porch you could read on. A little yard for that dog you’ve always wanted. Maybe even a couple kids. 

Yeah. He wanted a whole lot more with you.

So maybe it was just his fantasies corrupting his mind - but he expected the two of you would be cuddled up all morning. Maybe even get you pinned underneath him moaning again. And hopefully have time to take you to that little cafe he saw you eyeing yesterday. 

But you were up and dressed with a full face of makeup before he even was out of bed. Practically running away from him. 

Confused. Dean was definitely confused. 

Oh god. What if he said something stupid? What if he confessed that’s he’s so fucking obsessed with you and you freaked out? He did get a little drunker than he meant to last night. But he was nervous. More nervous than he’s been about anything in a long time. Sam left to give him time to talk to you, his little brother was annoyingly perceptive. He needed the liquid courage. And well he got distracted and didn’t really talk. But you clearly like him too. Right? 

Or did this not mean what he thought? Fuck. You two didn’t get a chance to talk this morning yet either, but he figured that it wouldn't be a one time thing. He didn’t want it to be a one time thing. Hell - in all the time he’s known you, you’d only had a few one night stands as far as he knew. Surely you wouldn’t want this to be one.  Would you?

Dean scrambles out of bed in a hurry, knocking the lamp off the nightstand. He’ll join you for your errands. And a talk. 

It wasn’t until he was pulling on his boxers, did he notice the bit of blood on his dick - and on the bed. 

FUCK. Did you start your period? Is that wy you ran? Why didn’t you say anything? But he’s had period sex before, and it’s usually more messy. Was something wrong? 

He ran out after you, calling out for you, still pulling his shirt on. 

But you were long gone. 

He tried calling you. Twice. 

He hurried around the block, down to the busy street. Hoping to find you. 

Eventually he gave up and went back to your room, you had to come back sometime right? 

————

The doctor at the clinic is nice. Her soft eyes are understanding, without a hint of pity or judgement. She felt like an aunt, or maybe even a young grandma. 

But you can’t bring yourself to tell her much. Claiming you and your boyfriend just got out of control last night. 

She doesn’t believe you. But she gave you some slightly stronger Ibuprofen for your bruised cervix, and bruised larynx, and bruised everything else. She also got you a couple of the ‘strong stuff’ for 2 nights with very clear instructions. Then she got you some Plan B. And some arnica gel to help fade the bruises. 

She slips you her card before you leave, offering to help if you need anything. Even just to listen. You’re not some battered wife needing rescuing, but you tuck it into your pocket for safe keeping all the same. 

You run a few other errands. Buying some new socks, makeup, snacks, and some other miscellaneous odds and ends. Nothing you really needed. But you couldn’t come back from your ‘errands’ empty handed. 

After a couple hours a cab drops you off in front of the motel. 

Sam is out front, getting something out of the Impala. Your heart aches, wanting to run to the overgrown string bean of a man and tell him everything that happened. Sam is your closest friend after all. But he’s also Dean’s brother, and you don’t want to make things weird. Besides - you can’t help but be a little mad at him for leaving you. 

He turns to you, confusion wrinkling his brow before he sees your bags. He comes up and wraps you in a hug that makes tears well up as the sweet gesture (and a little at the way he’s crushing your aching body). You’re grateful you took two of those Ibuprofen from the doctor, because you don’t think you could hide your grimace without them dulling the sharp edge.

“Did you find what we needed at the library?” You croak out quickly before he can ask about your night. 

He leans back so he can look down at you, and you pray that your makeup is still covering everything. 

“Uh…” he hesitates for a moment “yeah… yeah I found it”

“That’s great Sam!” You force excitement in your strained voice “let me go put this all down and I’ll come to you room in a second to hear all about it” 

You don’t wait for a response, just stepping out of his hold and walking to your room. 

When you get there, Dean is sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. 

He shoots up the second you let the door close. 

“Oh god sweetheart” he says voice cracking “you came back”

You tilt your head in confusion “yeah. I ran errands” you gesture to the bags you just dropped on the table. Not sure how he forgot, he was awake when you left. 

He looks… sad. Distraught even. And he practically whispers out your name. 

You can’t deal with whatever this is right now though. 

“Sam is back. I’m gonna shower and then I’ll come to your room to hear what all he found. Hopefully now we can get this one wrapped up” your voice is strained and cracks on every third word but you're pretty sure he doesn’t notice. He’s looking down at his hands now 

You don’t wait for a response. Just grabbing you things and heading to shower.

————

Dean gaped at the closed bathroom door for at least 10 minutes. 

You’re upset. He’s not that much of a dumbass. He can see it. Hear it in the way your voice cracks. But… what happened? 

You did seem to actually go run errands. But when he hadn’t heard from you for hours he feared you were leaving them. Leaving him.

You came back though. Just like you said. 

If you were pretending like last night didn’t happen, you would have given him shit. Called him a perv or creepy. Hell - before you’ve even twisted his arm behind his back and marched him out of the room. You ignored his flirting usually but never him. 

And if you weren’t ignoring it - then wouldn’t you flirt with him? Or kiss him again? 

Goddamn he wanted to kiss you again. 

But you clearly were upset. And you wanted to finish this hunt. 

So Dean did what he does best, and pushed all those feelings down deep and focused on ganking this son of a bitch. 

————

20 minutes later you’re knocking on the Winchester’s door. 

Sam’s little library expedition turned out to be just what you needed. You three are able get the case wrapped up that night and by the next afternoon you are all back in the Impala and headed off to the next town. 

Dean didn’t mention your night together. Sam never asked what happened. You were too busy working for any of that and you were grateful for it. 

And you were especially grateful for quiet moments in between in the bathroom where you let a few tears fall before you reapplied that fancy makeup you got last month and that spray that makes it basically fuse to your skin.  

It wasn’t until you stopped on the drive to get gas that your bubble of avoidance burst. Dean went inside to grab something, leaving you and Sam alone in the Impala.  

“What happened while I was gone?” Sam turned from the passenger seat to ask the second the gas station door closed behind Dean.

“Hmm?” You rasped delaying for a minute to come up with an answer 

“Something happened. While I was gone. What was it?” Sam pushed. Insistent and gentle all at once which is impossible to say no too.

“What makes you say that?” You deflected 

Sam just rolled his eyes at you and waited. 

You groan annoyed, which sounds more like a death rattle with your bruised throat. “We had sex”

“You and Dean?”

You nodded 

“And?” He pressed

“And what Sam?”

“And are yall together? Are you going to be doing that again? Are you two sharing rooms now? Did you talk? How was it? How did that happen?” He was stumbling over his words, like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. 

You just stared at him blinking for a long minute trying to understand what he’s so…excited about. It was just one night with his brother, he knows Dean’s ways better than you - why would he even ask?

“Breathe Sam. Nothing's going to change, you don’t have to find a new roommate. It was just sex. A one time thing”

“Just…sex…?” He said slowly like he couldn’t understand the words. 

You nodded again, not following this conversation at all. Even though it definitely wasn’t just sex. It was heartbreaking, soul aching pain. Not to mention the physical pain that the back seat of Baby was not helping with. At least you didn’t have to do much for the hunt last night, just recite some stuff and burn an odd combination of herbs while the brothers were fighting around you. 

But Dean was leaving the gas station, so you didn’t have to talk about this anymore. 

You pulled your big headphones back on, and turned back on your audiobook and Dean pulled back onto the highway. 

————

When you pulled into the motel, you beelined for the front desk while the guys were taking their sweet time. 

You smiled and engaged in some girl talk with the kind woman at the front desk - in exchange for you getting your room on the other side of the motel. If you had to hear Dean sleeping with someone else tonight, you weren’t sure you’d ever stop crying. Besides, you didn’t want them to overhear your breakdown. You’ve been holding on by a very thin thread for 2 days now. You needed your space. 

She had laughed and groaned at your complaints about them being terrible road trip companions and promised you their nicest room, and that theirs would be as far away as possible. 

You gave her a generous tip for her kindness, hoping it would also keep her from giving them your room number if they asked. 

You tossed the boys their room key as you grabbed your bag and headed to your own. 

“Wait!” Dean called when you were a couple steps away. Despite your desire to literally run away and hide, you still your steps - turning back to him “You… uh… you gotta room f’me and Sammy?”

“I can go see if she has two singles for you two instead. Sorry should have asked” you rasped quietly. 

“No I…I just” he rubbed at the back of his neck “I thought you might wanna share with me again”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, too tired to hide your reactions. You definitely weren’t expecting that. You just blinked at him for a second, as your muddled exhausted brain tried to come up with anything to say. 

“I’m tired Dean” you croaked out before you turned and walked towards your room. 

————

Dean stood frozen long after you’d turn the corner. Completely at a loss. 

He didn’t mean sex. Well he didn’t only mean sex.

He’s damn tired too. The three of you only spent a couple of hours in the motel after ganking that monster before driving all day. 

But the two of you could be tired together. Back intertwined in the same bed. 

Now that the case is over, why are you still running? Did you regret the night you spent together?

Dean’s not giving up on the two of you. Especially now that he’s finally gotten a taste. 

Sam cleared his throat behind him. 

Dean sighed, turning back to find his and Sammy’s room. 

“Let her rest. I’ll go surprise her later with movie night and talk to her” Sam said with a pat to his back.  

————

The woman was right, this room is pretty nice. Definetly the nicest motel room you’ve ever had. Maybe the nicest room you’ve ever been in full stop.  A big king bed with a fluffy comforter and a mountain of pillows, a couch in front of a big TV that you could watch from bed. A little kitchenette and kitchen table. And a nice clean bathroom with a massive shower. 

You hadn’t slept much in nearly 3 days. You should’ve crashed immediately the second you got to your room. But you were much too stressed for that. So you paced. Endlessly. 

Your brain on a constant loop of what the fuck is going on? And what should you do now?  And what the fuck did that mean? 

Dean thought that you would share a room after you had barely talked in the 24 hours since he broke you apart in your own bed? Why on earth would you want that? Why would he? You don’t think you’ve ever seen Dean go back for another night with the same woman. God is this why? But why would they come up and rave about him after. Maybe they’re just into it rough? 

After at least an hour of endless pacing and panicking, you acknowledge that this is not helping your frazzled mind or your aching body. 

You take a long hot shower, and under the stream, your stress slips to something darker. Heavier. 

The whole body aches flare into something sharper too under the water pressure. Especially now that you don’t have to hide it. You have to brace yourself against the cool tiles as your legs wobble under you.

Tears fall almost as hard as the water from the shower head. You don’t try to stop them. They can both clean you. 

You slowly wash. Taking the time to care for your bruised… everything. Maybe it’s self care. Maybe you just can’t move any faster. 

It’s not until the tears have slowed and your fingers are pruney do you finally step out. 

You stare at your reflection under the bright bathroom lights. The girl who stares back at you is hardly recognizable now that all the makeup is gone. 

The bruises on your face and neck are darker on day three. The ones on your hips have purple rings around the fingertips now. Like a poison slowly spreading through you. 

You can’t keep pretending you're fine. 

Your doctor’s soft voice echoes through your mind, telling you that when you allow yourself to rest, the pain will be greater. You reach for 1 of the strong pain pills she gave you, swallowing it down before you could overthink it. 

Then you gently rubbed the sticky arnica gel all over your bruises. Wincing at every gentle brush of your own fingers. 

You aren’t fine. But you can take care of yourself. And you will be fine again. 

You’re even more sure now, than you were that first morning - the brothers do not need to know. They have more important things to worry about. And you won’t be a pity case here. Especially since it’s your own damn fault. 

Besides, what if you tell them and Sam gets upset with Dean? 

What if Sam is upset with you?

Or worse, what if they don’t care?

What if they think you’re being dramatic? 

So you can’t tell them. You’ll just keep it to yourself. Get better. And then leave. 

A loud knock on the door startles you out of your spiral. 

“Surprise movie night” Sam’s quiet voice comes through the door

Shit. You can’t put your makeup back on til this gel stuff dries. And you just took your pain pill. If it’s like the ones they gave you after you had your tonsils taken out when you were a teen you’ll have no filter and won’t be able to keep a secret in about 20 minutes. Fuck. 

“Too tired for that Sam” you croaked back

“But I brought food!” He pleads

“So go to your room and eat it” 

“C’mon it’s just me, don’t make me sit out here all night”

“I’m not, I’m just not letting you in”

“I’ll be your best frienddd” he sing songs through the door

“You already are idiot” you gripe back “still can’t let you in”

“I already know you're hiding bruises” he says softly, “I won’t go all ‘big brother’ on you I promise. Just let me in” 

You’ve teased him about his ‘big brother tendencies’ towards you a million times before, and it softens you just enough to have you reaching for the door. 

“You can’t ask me about it. Promise?” You rasp the words out in almost a whisper as your head’s pressed against the door. 

He hears you though, because he sighs dramatically and you can just picture the eye roll that accompanies it. “Promise”

You stand behind the door as you open it, so he can’t see you til he’s fully in the room and you’re locking the door behind him. 

“Holy Shit” he breathes out

“Sam…” you warn

“What happened?!” 

“You promised!” You turn back to open the door, planning to shove him out

“Fine fine” he grumbled going to sit at the table and pulled out enough food for a week

He waits about 30 seconds before he starts again. 

“Why can’t I ask you?”

“Because I don’t want to tell you. And I just took a painkiller that might make me stupid”

“You have drugs?!” Sam looks like you just told him you kick puppies in your free time. 

“Samuel.” You rasp with a dramatic roll of the eyes “I have medicine prescribed to me by a  doctor. And I literally only got 2 of the strong ones. For the first two nights. I’m not doing hard drugs”

“You went to the doctor?” He sighs.

“Yeahhhh that’s how I got the doctor prescribed pain meds.” You emphasized 

“I don’t understand”

You roll your eyes at him again. “Okay Sam. I’ll give you 2 minutes to ask your questions. I don’t promise to answer everything”

“How’d you get so beat up?”

“Made a bad judgement call” you say with a shrug

“Why do you keep it covered?”

“Because I want to? And I can’t exactly walk around in public like this without getting attention”

“Does Dean know?”

“Not unless you told him”

He looks baffled at your answer, “Why didn’t you tell him?”

“He being weird. And I can handle myself”

“You’re pretty beaten up” 

“Yah thanks.”

“No I mean-”

“I’ve seen you look worse. Are you saying you can’t handle yourself?” You snap out, frustrated 

“No but I- ”

You cut him off again with your raised hand. “That’s 2 minutes!” You don’t know if it really is, not bothering to time this.

“I just worry about you” he says with another dramatic sigh

“I’m very familiar with your ‘big brother’ type worries, Sam”

“It’s part of the best friend package” he says with a grin 

“Yeah yeah” you wave him off with a matching smile as you dig into the pile of food and open your laptop to watch another obscure movie from the list of some internet cinephile. 

10 minutes in, you gave up on eating, grabbed a blanket off the bed and curled into yourself on the couch besides Sam. The movie was mostly just a blur of color to you now. You couldn’t be bothered to read the subtitles so just let the foreign language flow over you like a meditation. 

Until you got bored after about another 10 minutes. 

“Saaaam” you tried to sing out, coming out more of a broken choking sort of noise instead “I can’t watch this right now”

He chuckled at you gently and put on one of your guitly pleasure shows. “Better?” 

“Kinda? Everything still hurts but I don’t really care anymore. It’s just all feels -” you waved your hand in the air as some sort of explanation. He was asking about the show but your mind was melting into a pleasant numbness now. 

————

Sam knew he shouldn’t ask you like this. Not when your tongue was loosened by the painkillers. Knew you didn’t want him involved in whatever happened. But he couldn’t stand seeing you like this. And if he knew - he could help. “You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Of course I wanna talk about it” you grumble out. “I always want to talk. Just don’t wanna tell you.”

“Why not?” Sam asked with an exasperated throw of his hands. 

“Because Sam! Because I don’t know how you’ll react. Because I’m too fucking fragile for you to say anything about it right now. And because I don’t want you to leave yet” your voice softens with every statement, barely a whisper by the end. 

“I’ll just sit right here. Listening. I won’t say anything or leave. Promise.”

“I just feel stupid” you admit, “stupid and used. I know it’s my own fault. But I really just didn’t expect this. I mean dozens of women have come up to me telling me how good it is. Why would I expect this?

“Which by the way I didn’t ask for and is super weird and I hate it. And maybe I’m just too… I dunno, soft and sensitive I guess? But I get beat up and pushed around all the damn time hunting shit. Is it such a bad thing that I want someone to be a little soft and sweet with me? I’m not talking ‘confessions of love and rose petals’ sorta crap. Just like, I dunno - saying I look pretty, or holding me soft, or calling me something sweet, or just checking in with me.” Now that you’ve started talking you can't stop, the words pouring out of you faster and faster.

“I always gotta be this badass hunter - takes whatever fight and throws it back sorta girl - but I didn’t want that in bed. Didn’t want that with him. I shoulda probably known better tho huh. Or said something. I shoulda said somethin. But I didn’t want to ruin it ya know. He seemed so…thrilled. I dunno. And my emotions aren’t his problems. 

“Wanna know a secret Sammy? I had a bit of a crush on him. I wasn’t gonna do anything about it of course. Wasn’t gonna give in to all that damn flirting. I know it’s never meant anything. But I dunno… you went to that library and he was lookin at me like I actually meant something and he kissed me like he had been waiting forever for it. And I just caved. I guess that’s what he does tho? Maybe that’s his big move? I dunno. 

“Definitely don’t have a crush anymore tho. Not my favorite way to get over someone but it was pretty fuckin effective. Okay I dunno if that’s even true. I’ll probably still be stupid and start crushin again eventually.

“What I really don’t understand tho is why he’s being so weird now. He got what he wanted from me right? But didn’t leave my bed that whole night. He was still there when I got back from the doctors. And he thought we’d share a room tonight? Why? He's never gone back for seconds with a one night stand as far as I’ve noticed. Maybe it’s cause I’m still here? I dunno. But I haven’t slept since the night before that… so maybe I’m just tired. 

“But I won’t make it weird. We’re all shoved in one damn car, it’s not like I blame him. Not really. It’s my fault. I just. I just hurt. Everywhere. God my fucking heart hurts Sam. Which yes - I know is just my own fault. Expectations vs reality and all that. 

I think I just need a little space. To heal and get my head on again. And I don’t wanna leave you. I don’t wanna have to go hunt by myself. But I might. I just. I dunno anything I guess.”

You didn’t notice Sam frozen, locked in place since you started speaking, muscles tight and eyes wide - filled with a storm of sadness and rage and guilt. Your eyes were fuzzy with tears and the painkillers, as you watched the lights of the TV dance across the ceiling. 

“What did the doctor say” Sam finally managed to ask. Afraid if he apologized or squeezed you close you’d shut down on him. 

You grumbled at the ceiling before answering “Nothing that bad. Bruised larynx and cervix. A bit of tearing but didn’t need stitches. Got me some slightly stronger Advil and 2 of these for the first two nights. Some plan b. some sticky gel to fade the bruises. Think the makeup covers it up pretty well though”

Suddenly you smack your lips together and frown. “My mouths feels so weird.”

He laughs, even though it’s forced through gritted teeth at your pain. You’re done talking about this for the night it seems. Sam takes care of you in the perfect and annoying big brother way he does. Making you drink water, refusing your request for candy, turning off the tv, putting you in bed early (with socks cause you always complain about your feet being cold). He even turns on an audiobook of some nonfiction tome to lure you to sleep, but out loud not in your headphones cause he’s worried about you sleeping in them. And he sits on the couch. Refusing to leave in case anything happened while you slept. 

Sam panics quitely from the other side of the room, careful not to disturb you as he researches your injuries and tries to inspect your bruises from hovering nearby. He knows you have to tell Dean, but you don’t want you. And he’s pretty sure if he talks to him he’s gonna punch him. So he ignores all of Dean's messages. He texts Bobby and asks if you can come stay with him, Bobby gets on the road quickly to come pick you up - even though Sam told him you might not even want to go. And fucking Dean - who doesnt know what’s wrong, is so stupid in love with you, and is the one who fucking hurt you.

He cant believe that you just got fucking assaulted by your crush. His goddamn brother. And you think that it’s your fault. 

And it’s really all his fault, because he left. And told Dean to go for it. That you’d probably be down for whatever he was. 

————

Dean is on the other side of the motel pacing. Sam left hours ago with food for you. He knows better than to interrupt you and Sammy’s movie nights - Last time he tried that, he was yelled at, Sam pushed him back out the door and you were mad for 2 damn days. 

You’re already…something. Not quite mad, you’re quieter than that. But something is clearly wrong.

Something Dean doesn’t understand. 

Something that’s got his stomach twisted into knots. 

So he doesn’t interfere with movie night.

Eventually he can’t wait anymore, he stands outside your room. Presses his ear against the damn door even, just… just checking you’re still there. 

He can’t hear anything. 

Dean paced outside your room for a bit until he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to check on you. 

He knocked on your door. Softly. Careful not to bother you. 

After a long minute, Sam opened the door a crack. 

He had that look. That look that said something was definitely wrong. Sad puppy eyes but jaw clenched angrily. 

Dean swallowed his nerves back, “I…I was just checking in on you two. I’m not breaking up movie night. Just been a while… you two alright?”

He could hear the soft cadence of a documentary or something in the background, but nothing from you. 

Sam’s jaw clenched. “Fine. I’m sleeping on the couch here tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow”

“I - uh what? Can I come in?”

“No Dean. Tomorrow”

Sam pulled the door closed without another word. 

————

The next morning Dean was up before the sun. To be honest he couldn’t really sleep, despite the exhaustion. He was running on fumes and anxiety and bad coffee. 

Something was clearly wrong with his girl. He needed you to be his girl. 

So he found a little bakery and got you a whole box of assorted baked things. Half of which he’d never heard of - so they had to be good. And the biggest size of that fancy coffee you like. He also got Sam something - because you frown at him when he leaves his brother out. And he only wants to see you smile at him. 

That’s a lie, he wants you to press up against him and kiss him. But a smile works too. 

He knocks on your door before 8oclock. You’re always up early. 

Nerves once again twisting his stomach, but if he started drinking now he’d be one of those guys with a problem. So he taps his fingers anxiously on the box of sweets instead. 

Sam opens the door, and he still looks pissed. “You’re up early”

He doesn’t acknowledge that. Because no shit Sammy. He’s obviously up early. 

“Can I come in?” He grunts instead, hoping the frantic beating of his heart isn’t as loud as it is in his ears. “I brought coffee. And pastries!” He adds after a second, nerves clearly showing. 

Sam cocks an eyebrow. Clearly seeing right through him. 

Then he leans back behind the door, and talks to you. Dean can’t hear what you’re saying, just Sammy’s side: “No don’t.” “You gotta tell him” “Yeah I promise” “No now” 

Each sentence makes him more anxious, but he doesn’t have time to worry about it before the door is opening.

His heart stops for a long second before it restarts twice as fast. 

“Oh god sweetheart” Dean croaks out as he stumbles towards you, dropping his cafe treats on the table on the way. 

You’re standing frozen in the middle of the room, covered in deep purple and black bruises. 

His hands ghost over you, stuck between needing to check on you and afraid to make anything worse. 

“What happened?” It comes out as a whisper

Your eyes widen at him and then look behind him. He had forgotten Sam was still here. 

You don’t say anything. Wide eyes blinking at him. 

“Sweetheart, please. Talk to me. Who did this”

You let out a choked whimpering sort of sound that made his heart ache. 

“You can talk to me, promise. Who was it, babygirl?”

He didn’t mean to call you baby girl out loud, yet - it just kinda slipped out in his worry. 

But it seemed to kick start something inside you, because you gasped and flinched back away from him. Not the reaction he was hoping for. 

“I don’t understand” you rasped quietly, shaking your head at him as you stepped back. 

Dean stepped closer, like a magnet drawn in. “What don’t you understand? I’m worried about you. I need to know who hurt you. You’re my g-”

“It was you” you cut him off with a broken whisper as you take another step back.

It’s Dean’s turn to freeze. Mouth open hands still hovering out towards you. It’s a long second before his brain catches up  “What?

“No” he stammers shaking his head, “No. No. I didn’t. Couldn’t. No”

You close your eyes and swallow hard. Fingers trembling slightly at your side. And when your eyes open again they are shining with unshed tears. His stomach knots at the sight

“Sweetheart, I -”

“I don’t understand what this is” you wave a shaking hand at him. “Are you just twisting the knife in or do you seriously not remember?”

Dean gapes at you. Do you think he would be so cruel to hurt you and pretend like it wasn’t him? He would fucking remember if he was leaving bruises on you face and neck like this. Maybe it was a shifter? He would know if he was possessed. 

Sam says your name from somewhere behind him, “tell him.” His voice is soft, like when he’s comforting a victim. And it makes his stomach twist up a little more. 

Your breath puffs out on a shaky exhale, “That night Sam went to the library, we had sex” your voice cracks more now. Like it hurts you to talk about the night he finally got to be with you. 

You must see something in his expression, because you ask “Do you remember any of that night?”

There are admittedly spots in his memory, blacked out from the alcohol. But he does remember you two wrapped around each other at the bar, passionate make outs, your giggle as he dragged you back to your motel room, you riding his thigh calling his name, your plump lips wrapped around his cock with tears in your eyes, your whimpers as he fucked you into the mattress. And after, your nails on his back as he kissed your shoulder, his hand on your waist as he held you close all night. 

“Sam, can you uh not listen to this?” Your voice snaps him back to the bruised reality in front of him. 

He wishes Sammy would just leave, maybe that would help you open up. Even though he knows it wouldn’t, you have a much easier time talking to his little brother than him. 

Sam moves around the motel room, probably getting your headphones and the coffee he brought. But Dean’s eyes never leave you. Your hands are still trembling, eyes still shining as they watch Sam.  He inspects your bruises, and damn they look painful. Purple and black and red in areas, nothing faded to green, and they cross your face and your neck, there’s even a smaller one peeking out from the collar of your tshirt. 

When your eyes finally find him, they are filled with sadness that makes that knot in his stomach drop out and his chest clench. 

They don’t linger on him for long, sliding past him to stare at a spot on the wall. 

The retelling of the night pours out of you in a rush, your words quick and your voice flat but cracking. “Sam left, and you were flirty. You’re always flirty. And I dunno, I flirted back. And then we were making out. And going back to my motel room. But when we got to the room you were just so…mean. You slapped me and choked me and used me and bruised me. Didn’t let me cum.. or speak. You called me names and made fun of me. And yeah I know people are into all that and maybe I’m just too soft for it. For you. But it hurt. Hurts.” Each word cuts like a knife against his heart. He wants to argue, tell you he’d never do that. Never hurt you like that. But he knew you weren’t lying. Could hear it in your voice. See it in the tears that were slipping down your cheeks. 

You didn’t seem to notice them, still staring at the wall behind him. “I didn’t want to bother you with this. It’s not your problem I’m so…” you choked in a rough inhale. “I didn’t mean to tell Sam either. I didn’t want to make this a whole thing. But the painkillers make me a little talkative so”

He wanted you to tell him. To tell him that night. To shove at him. Yell at him. This quiet breakdown is so much worse. He doesn’t know what to say. How can he fix this. 

“I’m gonna go stay with Bobby for a while. I can still research like this. And he can always use a hand around that mess of a place.”

“Sweetheart I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -” 

“It’s really okay. I probably should’ve said something that night I just uh didn’t want to ruin your night. It’s not your fault we didn’t uh mesh well i guess. 

Dean let’s put a choked sob sort of sound. “Sweetheart I -”

“I gotta go Dean. I’m sorry”