SHE TRIED TO NOT LET IT SHOW, how terrified she was when it came to the high - tier supernaturals. on her own, dealing with things like apocalyptic demons, angels, and the assholes that called themselves gods wasn’t something that happened often. that was partially because the brothers winchester would take care of them before anyone else had to. she knew the game when it came to the bottom feeders : vampires, werewolves, ghouls and ghosts. now, she wasn’t so sheltered. of course, she wasn’t helpless against them, and she could hold her own when it came to fighting them. anti - possession tattoos and devil’s traps weren’t foreign to her, and she’d taken down her fair share of crossroad dwellers, but it didn’t change the fact that the biblical monsters were meanest motherfuckers out there.
milly stands in front of the bathroom mirror, hands rested on the counter top as she leans on them. she’s thinking about something, it seems, or going over all the horrors she’d seen in the past twelve hours. the twitching of her fingers gave away her hollow shock, along with the rocky breaths leaving her nostrils. the shower was on behind her, which was where she’d told dean she’d be, but she couldn’t find the strength to leave her petrified mindset. hot steam surrounded her, warmed her. she found a little comfort in that humid cloud, but not enough. she must’ve not heard dean ask if she was okay, because she only turned to the door when he began vigorously trying to get inside. the woman reaches to the doorknob and unlocks it, coming face to face with a pair of green eyes that had seen too much loss to be okay with silence behind a locked door. it was the kind of loss she knew now.
she watches him let out a deep breath, staring at her with something that was half aggravation and half concern, something that wanted to know why the hell she locked herself in a room ( or something more severe, why she locked him out ). goddamnit, she doesn’t have a fucking answer. maybe it had to do with the baggage that came with being beside him, the sword of michael. maybe she was angry at him for dragging her and her family into this shitstorm. or, maybe, she was just a human being human, trying to swallow a pill that was stuck in her throat like a stone.
there’s a second of silence before he falls softer, realizing what was happening with her. the fear in her eyes, he sees it. understands it. even the hardest of mountains weathered, didn’t they ? it only takes a moment or two before he steps forward, wrapping his arms around her to hold her. and he does that until she reacts, sinking into him, letting him support her like the rock he was. she doesn’t shake with sobs or scream in grief, but she does bury her face into his chest, balling his cotton shirt up into fists, stretching the fabric enough to bust the threads at the hem. he lets her do it.
❝ i don’t know if i can bare it. ❞ she growls through her gritted teeth, angry and heartbroken.❝ you don’t have to do it alone. ❞ he murmurs against her temple, moving a hand to the back of her head, knotting his fingers in her hair. ❝ i’m right here with you. i ain’t going anywhere. ❞
it’s those words that get through to her. I AIN’T GOING ANYWHERE. they release her from the loneliness she felt in that bathroom, from the feeling of inevitable doom scratching around inside her skull. it seemed like only then did she truly realize where they were and what they were doing, like a fog was lifted from her and that that was there was him.
leaning back, she looks up at him. the fear is gone, and all that’s left is a sort of exposed nerve of pain. he helped with that, though. she moves her hands to hold his face, leaning up to put her lips on his. a stark contrast from the white - knuckled grasp she had on his shirt only moments ago. it’s a deep kiss, a means to being closer to him, a way of saying thank you. of saying i love you, and i need you. she was safe with him.
stormborns
pixelskylines
areudirty
