Dean Winchester X Reader

Synopsis: After a long day, you're at a bar, when you see a person who seemed to have it worse than you.  Set in season three, close to the the finale.

"A jack and coke please." You told the bartender as you tapped your fingers nervously against the bar. Glancing around, you stared at each male body in the room, making sure it wasn't the familiar, linebacker build of your ex, John. You had broken up with him the night before, after two years together, and he didn't seem to be taking it to well. So well in fact, that he had been threatening you all night, and at work today. 

After your drink was placed in front of you, you kept up your perusal of the bar patrons, feeling a little foolish for doing so. This wasn't your usual bar, in fact it was on the other side of the town. But with his creepy texts looming on your mind, you couldn't be too careful. 

"Rough day?" A deep timbered voice said from the bar stool next to you, and you jumped, almost knocking your drink over in the process. 

"You could say that." You mumbled, tilting your head down so your hair covered your face, trying to cut off the conversation before it could even start.

"Tell me about it." He muttered, getting the hint and leaving you to your drink. Your hand shaking, you lifted it up, taking a sip before once again checking to make sure John hadn't shown up while you were preoccupied. When it was deemed safe, you turned your attention on the man sitting next to you, staring, looking him over out of the corner of your eye. 

While not as buff and big as your previous boyfriend, this man was tall, and his shoulders hiding underneath that drab olive coat showed that he could handle himself. His hair was short and spiky, a brown from what you could tell in the dim bar light. As you stared, he ran his hand through it, making the already short strands stand even more on edge. His shoulders were slumped, his long and slender fingers holding tightly to a glass of whiskey. You could barely make out the bruised knuckles on his hand. 

From what you could tell, and the bar light was not flattering, was that this was a handsome man. A man who was used to getting his way, or any girl he wanted. A lot like John, and that thought had you wanting to scoot your chair farther away. You were done with men like John, men that treated you like crap, and expected you to be grateful for it.

"You know, if you wanted to stare at me, all you had to do was ask." The man said, in his smooth and enticing voice, turning in his seat to stare your way. The shadows shifted, and you could make out a mean slice on his cheekbone, and the darkening signs of a black eye. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." You apologized, starting to feel even more nervous and unsure. Setting your empty glass on the counter, you moved to stand up, freezing when you felt his hand on you. 

Noticing how tense you had become, he released his hold on you quickly, apologizing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stop you. But I thought maybe I could buy you a drink. At least as an apology for bugging you. I didn't mean any harm. I just came here to drink, and forget about what lays ahead. It would be nice to have a drinking companion."

There was something in his tone of voice, in the sincerity of his eyes that had you sliding back into your seat. His eyes were a green, but they were so full of pain. Eyes that probably matched your own e/c eyes. Instantly you had a feeling he wasn't there to play games with you, to hurt you or torment you. He just really wanted someone to sit and drink with him. To maybe share a conversation with, and then go your separate ways. 

"What were you drinking?" He asks as he signals the bartender. After ordering a new drink for you and him, the two of you sit there quietly for a moment, and you chance another quick look around the bar. "I don't know what you keep looking for, but are you sure you'll find it in a cheap, tasteless bar like this one?"

As you drinks were set down in front of you, you stayed quiet, and he quietly cussed. "That was a low blow, I apologize again. Usually I can  come in here, and charm the panties off of any girl I set my eyes on. But I wasn't looking for that, and my conversation game is rusty."

"It's alright." You whispered, giving him a small smile. "I'm just a little out of it, you could say. I had a bad break up, and I keep thinking he's going to show up and cause trouble." 

"Well if he does, I can take him down." He assured you. "The names Dean by the way."

You appreciated the effort, but you weren't sure this man would be able to handle himself against a man like John. John was used to hitting people, men and women alike. He had played college football, almost pro until an unfortunate accident had turned him to the life of a mechanic. It had turned his mood sour, and you hadn't realized that until it was too late. "My name's Y/N.  But now we know why I'm here, but why are you here? If it's not too bold to ask." You said, knowing that you would have spoken too much for John's liking.

If Dean noticed how you pulled back into yourself, your shoulders slumped, he didn't say anything. But you did notice the way his jaw clenched. "It's kind of hard to explain. Let's just say I made a deal, and it's coming up soon."

"Oh." You answered, a little disappointed that he didn't give you much more information. You could sense so much more lurking behind those sage green eyes, and you were surprised at how much you wanted to learn about this man.

"The guy who dumped you?" Dean started, and you looked up at him. "He didn't deserve you. And whatever he told you, made you believe, it wasn't true. I hope you realize that, and how much better you are away from him."

"Thanks." You answered. "It's nice to hear that."

Dean seemed to weigh something in his mind, before he reached over, and placed his hand on yours. "If my deal wasn't coming up in a week, I would try to make a move on you. There's something about you, I wish I had met you sooner." 

You wanted to answer him, to tell him to forget about the deal, that you wanted him to make a move on you, when you felt eyes drilling into your back. Your heart in your throat, you turned in your seat, trying to play it off as cool to Dean. But when you saw a familiar pair of deep brown eyes starring daggers at you, you felt your palms grow sweaty, and your knees weak. "I need to go." You whispered, moving to stand up, but Dean kept his hand on yours.

"Why? Is it because of what I said? I was just telling the truth. There's a connection between us, don't tell me you didn't feel it too." He argued with you, but your fight or flight adrenaline had kicked in, and you were no fighter. At least not for this.

"No, Dean. But I need to go, now. I'm sorry." You said, tearing your hand away from his. You wanted to glance back, to see if John was there, but you didn't want to draw attention. Instead you pushed forward, past a confused and slightly hurt Dean, into the back hallway. Past girls who were drunk off of their feet, and the smell of fried food as you rushed past the kitchen. Taking a second to glance back, you breathed a sigh of relief when you didn't see anyone following you. Pushing the heavy back door open, you breathed in the disgusting, but freeing scent of the back alley. Turning to the right, you figured you would leave your car there, and catch the bus at the end of the street. But you ran smack dab into the solid chest you knew so well. A bruising grasp was placed on your forearm, as John's meaty face came into view. 

"You thought you could hide from me, here in this dump of a bar. But Y/N, I'm smarter than you give me credit for. I knew I would find you. Now it's time for you to see reason." He said, before swinging a large hand, letting it connect sharply with your cheek.

Gasping in pain, you raised a hand to feel the welt already forming on your cheek. "Now here's what I'm not sure about. I can either drag you back home, and teach you a lesson there. Make you never want to leave me again. Or, we could have the lesson here, and I could move on with my life. Find another slut who would be more willing to spread her legs than you ever were." He said crudely, before yanking you away from the door, towards a large dumpster. Before you could even fight, he shoved you into it, your temple connecting with the unforgiving metal. You fell to the dirty, grease soaked ground as your head throbbed. 

Struggling to your feet, you heard him chuckling as he watched you. "I don't know what I ever saw in you. Maybe I am glad that you ended things. Because why would a man like me, be with such a stupid, ugly woman like yourself." He said, before shoving you back into the dumpster once again. Before you could gain your balance he was on you. His hands flying furiously, you could only cover so much of your skin, and you wanted to curl into yourself as he beat you more than he had ever done before. No spot of your body was safe, your face was bruised and battered, and you fell to the ground, unable to roll away.

That's when he turned to kicking, his heavy work boots making quick work of your ribs, cracking them easily. You lay there, gasping for air, when you heard it. It was the sound of Dean's voice, and for a second you wondered if you had imagined it. Opening your good eye, you saw Dean standing next to John, his face full of rage. 

You wanted to tell Dean to run, to get away before he was ground to a pulp too. Because you knew that would happen. John was too big, too strong. "Hey dickwad, you don't know what no means?" Dean smarted off, and John turned on him with a snarl.

"She replaced me, with you? A scrawny, hick like yourself." John taunted.

"Well, I for sure am not a hick. And no, she was just smart enough to leave a no talent loser before you sucked her down with you." Dean answered. Before you could warn him, John charged him, and you could only watch as they took each other on. Fists flew, and the ugly sounds of flesh being beaten echoed in the alley. Grunts came from both men, and you watched as heads would snap back, or teeth were clench together.

At first you thought John had the upper hand, like you thought would have happened. But Dean seemed to have more skill, like he had been in fights many of times. You watched as John slowly fell to Dean, finally landing on his butt next to the wall. Dean hit him a couple more times, making his face a messy pulp of blood and broken skin, before squatting down next to him. "Don't you ever lay a hand on a woman again, got it? If I hear you do, then I will come back, or my friends, and you will be dickless. Got it?"

John nodded, and Dean left him to come walking over to you. "Damn Y/N, I'm sorry I couldn't find you earlier. This might hurt, but I need to get you somewhere safe."

Holding your breath, you couldn't help the groan that slipped out as Dean gently picked up your battered body. Giving one last glance at the broken man that John became, you cuddled into Dean's chest, letting his smooth gait, along with your pain, lull you into unconsciousness.