"Look, I'm not saying you're lying, but you are definitely not telling the truth." Sam shook his head, nearing desperate to cover the curvature of his lips and the laugh erupting in his chest. He took another sip of his beer before forcing the overdramatically serious expression to return to his face.
Dean narrowed his eyes on his brother, throwing back the remnants of bourbon in the bottom of his glass. He glanced over in your direction for a split second, sending you a smile that exhilarated butterflies in the depths of your core, before turning back to Sam with an intoxicated glare.
"I am appalled you don't believe me. You'll just have to take my word for it, Sammy. You weren't there. Deal with it." Dean slurred, pointing a finger at Sam, who only rolled his eyes in return.
You couldn't help but laugh, covering your lips with the palm of your hand, as you watched Dean attempt to compose himself to appear more credible.
They had been having this fight for the last hour, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the pub. A few tables glanced over every so often, whispering and trying to gesture towards the three of you discreetly. Others didn't even attempt to hide their amusement and had turned their bar stools to face your table, obviously intrigued. It didn't bother you at all. In fact, it was only adding to hilarity of the situation that Sam and Dean didn't seem to find ridiculous in the slightest.
Neither of the brothers were budging on either side of the argument. Not to mention the increasing blood-alcohol levels weren't exactly helping their cases or doing any favors to stop Dean's invigoratingly smug confidence or Sam's deteriorating patience.
Sam took another swig from his beer, keeping careful eye contact with his brother. You glanced between the two, biting back the laugh threatening to incapacitate you.
After a few minutes of agonizing silence and exponentially building anticipation, Sam slammed his beer on the table, causing remnants of the liquid to fly from the glass onto the wooden table. The audience of drunken travelers nearly jumped from the sudden movement.
"There's no way you met Bon Jovi at some floozy bar in Jersey when you were 16, Dean!" Sam shouted, throwing his arms in the air. The frustration was evident in every inch of his expression down to the twitch of his upper lip. "I'm not buying it! Just cave already!"
"Not happening, bro. I have never spoken truer words in my life and I resent the accusation! That night was magical experience for us both." Dean insisted with a defiant smirk, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands behind his head. To anyone else he would have come across as an arrogant jerk, but you knew him much better than that. He winked at you, causing you to grin wildly in return.
Sam frowned at your obvious enjoyment of the argument and you immediately bit your lip for the younger Winchester's sake, though you couldn't keep the laugh in for long when Dean's smile practically lit up every corner of the dingy old bar.
"I'm going to get the next round." Sam groaned, pushing his chair out from under him and standing to his feet. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning between you and Dean. He shook his head, a soft smile curving on his lips before he made his way towards the bartender.
The crowd sighed, probably wishing a full fledged brawl would have erupted, and went back to their own business. It suddenly felt like you were finally alone, despite the heavy traffic of the pub. You were happy to just feel free of the insanity of your world for just one night.
Almost as if Dean's thoughts aligned perfectly with yours, now realizing the lack of viewers to your table, his hand slowly slid comfortably against your thigh, squeezing it lightly through the layer of denim; a gesture he could only make when no one could see. It was the most natural, most familiar, almost expected behavior, and yet it set a fire in your stomach every time.
An involuntary smile set on the edges of your lips like a reflex as you leaned against his shoulder. His nose pressed against your neck, his lips just barely grazing the skin, his breath warm against you. Your fingers quickly intertwined in his; calloused hands easily finding their way to one another in the most casual of ways.
Neither of you ever discussed the impossibly brief stolen moments you shared, or why you hid it from Sam. You never so much as mentioned it once aloud, far too afraid that it would crumble away the second it felt real. You knew it could never be more than a fantasy tucked away in secret moments and you were certain Dean was aware of the reality of the situation as well.
No one in your line of work survives anything past one night stands. Relationships and love tend to destroy hunters far worse than any amount of monsters ever could.
Those brief moments of intimacy were already far more than you should have allowed for yourself, but there was something about Dean that drew you to him like he was the only sense of home you had ever known, like he was the only source of light in your world of complete and total darkness.
Maybe he was. Maybe he meant a lot more to you than you would ever admit to yourself. Maybe you wanted more than this, but saying it aloud, making it real, would surely be the death of you both.
You were an empty shell before you met the Winchesters; deadly and reckless at just nineteen years old, with a bloodlust that would put Cain himself to shame. Hunters without something to lose are far more dangerous than any monster with a twisted sense of justice.
You used to hunt just to kill, to feel something die beneath your hands, as if the ability to take life somehow restored the emptiness inside you the world has instilled in you years before.
Dean changed that in you. Sam, too. They showed you what it meant to have someone watching out for you, how it felt to be cared for in the most selfless of ways, why your life mattered more than you believed it did, and that you were more than just a pawn in a game you didn't understand.
They gave you family and home and security.
They saved you.
It didn't surprise you, to say the least, when you started to realize the extent of your feelings for the older Winchester. Your first instinct was to push him away, or to leave in the dead of night to avoid the pain and heartache that would naturally come with the vulnerability of love. Only, it never came to that.
The night before you decided you were going to leave, Dean stumbled into your room for the first time with whiskey on his breath and tears in his eyes, complaining of nightmares and a fear of sleep that set stone deep in your heart.
Allowing him to curl up next to you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his head lying on your chest, was the first and final straw. He shattered the walls around your heart in one night. They crumbled instantly just with his touch.
It was too difficult to stay away from him after that. It started out with innocent requests to sleep in the other's bed at night to avoid the monsters lurking in your dreams, intentional brushes of hands as you walked next to each other along busy sidewalks, and sitting close enough for your hips to touch on the same side of a diner's booth.
Eventually, you were making up excuses to be alone with him just so you could feel him against your chest, his hands weaving through your hair, his lips warm and gentle on yours. You began to crave moments when Sam would step away, even for a second, just so you could give into the undeniable need just to touch Dean, even if it was just to hold his hand under the table or lean against his shoulder.
It was enough; for you, anyway.
"So, how true is that story?" You asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow as Dean pulled back away from you. You were careful to not break the moment between the pair of you by playing with the lines in his left hand, as you had done a million times before. You traced the old scars and creases in his skin as if you were memorizing him.
"Oh, it's not. I lied." Dean grinned wildly. "I never met Bon Jovi. Are you kidding me, (Y/n)? If I had, I would have tattooed a detailed account of that night on my face... on Sam's face!"
You burst into laughter, shaking your head in a helpless ditch to compose yourself. You could feel Dean's eyes watching you, grazing over every feature effortless lit up simply by being near him. It never once made you feel self-conscious or uncomfortable. That's just how he was with you.
After the ache in your cheeks had passed and the laughter subsided, you pulled Dean's hand back into your lap, continuing to mindless playing with it. Dean sighed, watching your fingers touch and drag along his hand as if he were in a daze.
It wasn't until you spotted Sam passing the bartender a twenty that you quickly let go of Dean's hand, turning back towards the table and facing away from him. Dean nodded slowly with a drawn out sigh, chewing on his lip, knowing that the moment between the two of you had ended as they always do.
"So," Sam said, sliding into his chair and passing out the drinks. "Did Dean confess to being a dirty liar yet?"
"Sorry, Sam. Afraid not." You shrugged.
Sam groaned, pushing fallen locks of hair from his eyes and trying not appeared bothered. He wasn't doing a very good job.
Dean grinned, and you caught him eyeing you with the same level of adoration he gave only a minute ago while Sam was over at the bar. You narrowed your eyes at him, confused, gesturing towards his brother who didn't seem to notice the silent exchange. You quickly shook your head, inaudibly telling Dean to stop looking at you like that before Sam caught on.
Dean stared back at you for a minute, a flash of hurt across his face, before he turned his attention to the glass of whiskey at his fingertips. He took a larger gulp than normal and clenched the sides of the glass as the burn slid down his throat.
He barely made eye contact with you after that, as if you had uncovered something he didn't want you to see. It took a while before you put the pieces together and realized that it wasn't just a slipup. Dean didn't just forget that Sam was there.
He didn't want the moment to end. He tried to keep it alive longer than it was meant to.
He wanted it to be real.
Your heart dropped.

You decided to head out earlier than the boys, making up a poorly thought out excuse that Sam didn't question. Dean eyed you for a second, sensing that you felt the shift in the dynamic between the two of you just as much as he did, but ultimately let you go without any protest.
You weren't sure what to think or what you would say if Dean wanted to talk about what happened. You took in a deep breath, wincing against the cool night's air filling your lungs, and prayed that this wouldn't be the one time Dean decided to talk about the serious stuff without someone forcing him to.
You sighed, tucking your hands into your pockets as you walked the remaining quarter mile back to the motel room. The air was colder than you remembered, chilling you through the thin layer of jeans and flannel. You shivered.
"Hello Darling."
You spun on your heels at the sudden voice appearing behind you, only a few feet from the safety and warmth of your motel. Your handgun was between your palms before you had a second thought, the barrel aimed pointedly at the King of Hell.
"Crowley? What the hell do you want?" You growled, lowering your weapon, knowing it's bullets were useless against him. No sense in pretending you had any chance in protecting yourself with a mortal weapon when he could literally crush your lungs with the snap of his fingers.
Crowley shrugged nonchalantly, pacing around you. You could feel his eyes scanning your body, leaving a nauseating feeling in your gut. You crossed your arms over your chest in a worthless attempt to shield yourself.
He finally paused when he stood in front of you once again, though this time he was standing far too close to you. You could smell the sulfur on his skin and feel the warmth of his sticky hot breath against you. You took a step back.
"No need to be so paranoid, Dear." Crowley purred. "I'm only here to chat."
"Not interested." You spat, though you curled your fingers into fists to stop the sudden shaking. You were never able to drown out whatever fear you had for the former crossroads demon with hatred in the way that Dean and Sam could. They were always so still, so sure of themselves. But you could never imitate that. Crowley put you on edge, he struck uncertainty and panic within you and he knew it.
"How unfortunate." Crowley sighed, playing the defeated school kid act you had seen a million times before. He frowned, kicking the stones in the pavement. "Well, if you're sure..."
You turned on your heels immediately, racing to the motel so you could grab the holy water, fill your gun with rock salt, and put in a call to the Winchesters as soon as physically possible. You didn't know what Crowley wanted, but you knew for certain it wasn't anything good.
"Then I guess there's nothing I can do to save Dean!" Crowley called out, his voice echoing through the otherwise silent parking lot.
You froze in your tracks, just barely making it to the edge of the motel room. Your hand lifted off of the doorknob slowly and you clenched your jaw in an attempt to hide the wave of fear sweeping through you.
"What did you say?"
Crowley instantaneously appeared behind you, startling you as you turned around. "We have a mutual problem, Dear. I don't want Dean to mauled by hellhounds again just as much as you don't. I hate to say that I've grown fond of him and I would really rather not subject him to that if I don't have to."
Your eyes widened, your breath nearly catching in your throat. You could feel your heart pounded, threatening to explode from your chest.
"Hellhounds?" You whispered, the fear evident in your shaking voice at the memory of those dog ripping Dean to shreds. It was, without a doubt, the worst night of your life. "What are you talking about?"
Crowley nodded, pleased he gained your attention as a flash of malice passed through his eyes. "Dean has grown soft this last year... have you noticed?"
You straightened your back suddenly, doing your best to slow your rapidly beating heart.
It was about you. Of course, it was about you. This is why you spent so long convincing yourself that being with Dean would only lead to more pain. This was why you kept him at a distance and forbade yourself from acknowledging the depth of your feels for him. This was the reason and it was coming for you anyway.
"Dean has been... how should I put this... less than optimal in his hunting ability since the two of you started sneaking away like a couple of high-schoolers." Crowley spat, his posed front of level headedness quickly withering away. "He has been annoyingly unwilling to let you die on these damn meaningless hunts like you should have years ago. He's been throwing himself into the fire to make sure there isn't a scratch on your precious little face."
Crowley's hand reached out and grazed the edge of of your jawline. You snapped your head away, glaring at him.
"We used to be friends before the two of your started playing pretend. He used to listen to me and kill what I told him needed to be killed without question." Crowley complained, his face growing red. "Now, he's a sorry excuse for a hunter who spends more of his time staring at you with damn heart eyes than killing monsters that get in my way!"
"Good thing Dean doesn't work for you." You muttered under your breath, though you knew he would hear you. It was the only ounce of courage you had left in your system.
Crowley smirked, nodding. "That's true. He doesn't. But I can still drag his ass back to hell. I can still stash him away in the furthest circle where not even Castiel can find him."
Your jaw dropped, your body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, threatening to pull you to ground. You locked your knees, blinking through the tears building behind your eyes. Crowley's upper lip twitched, the years of aggravation present in his face.
"Think he can last another forty years?" Crowley threatened. "How long do you think before he starts torturing this time? A year? A a few weeks? How long before he gives in to being the man he has so desperately been trying to forget since the second that angel saved his ass from the fire? How long before he loses that miniscule ounce of hope he has left? How long before Dean Winchester's soul is so tainted he becomes the very thing you hunt!?"
"You wouldn't." You whispered, through shaky breaths. "You'd put Dean through hell again... because of what? Because you don't like me?"
"BECAUSE YOU'VE RUINED HIM!" Crowley snarled, causing you to step back, reflexively raising your gun at him again. He didn't seem to be bothered by the weapon aimed at his skull. He reached out and grabbed it effortless from you, tossing it aside. It slid along the pavement far away from your reach. You staggered backward.
"But it doesn't matter now, because I can drag him to hell and mold him into the demon I need him to be." Crowley growled, a growing look of pride upon his face. "I'd like to get rid of the humanity that's always trying to tell him right from wrong. I could make Dean Winchester great again."
"What if I left?" You interjected suddenly. Crowley narrowed his eyes on you, clearly intrigued, waiting for you to continue. "What if... what if I left? If I'm not around, Dean can go back to being who he used to before... before it got complicated. You don't need to put him through hell, okay? I can... I can leave. I can disappear."
An unexpected laughter burst through Crowley's chest. "You really think that would be enough? He'd spend all his time looking for you and trying to track you down. He wouldn't believe for a second that you would just up and leave for no reason. He'd be convinced that someone took you. It would only make his feelings for you worse!"
"So what do I do? Please, tell me what to do." You whispered, your eyes falling to the pavement, feeling more helpless than you ever had in your life. This is what love does. It ruins you. You would do almost anything before subjecting Dean to hell again. You would take his place if Crowley warranted it.
Goddamn love.
Crowley's lips pressed into a thin line, the smirk sending shivers down your spine. He leaned in close to you, his breath so hot on your neck you did all you could to keep from flinching away.
"Break his heart." Crowley sneered. "If you want to keep my hellhounds from ripping Dean to shreds and dragging his soul back to hell, destroy him yourself. Show him how love can ruin a man like him."
You bit down hard on your lip, drawing blood, in an effort to stop the tears in your eyes. It was painfully ineffective.
Crowley chuckled, stepping back away from you. "Dean has a lot of insecurities, especially when it comes to you. There's a lot of ammo to choose from, Darling. I'm sure almost anything will do quite nicely."
You nodded, pushing away the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. Your body had grown numb; whether it was from the cold or the constant stream of pain in your chest, you didn't know.
"Oh and (Y/n)," Crowley called back towards you over his shoulder, finally grabbing your attention to meet his wicked stare. He grinned, no hint of remorse behind the solid red of his eyes. "Make it believable, or I'll send the hounds anyway."
With that, he disappeared into the air. You fell to your knees instantly, your own body giving out beneath you, irrevocably unable to control the sob racking through your body any longer.

It should have been harder to pack away the only possessions you had to your name. It should have taken more than a few minutes and a single duffle bag to gather all that you owned. Though you never had much more than a few days worth of clothes and the basics necessary to remain a presentable human being anyway. Nothing of worth. No valuables. Nothing.
The only belonging of importance you carried was a small, faded picture of you, Sam, and Dean from a few years back. It was before purgatory, before the apocalypse and the devil, before hell; it was the one last moment of innocence the three of you had left.
You set the crumpled image on the nightstand by Dean's bed. It was discolored from years of stuffing it in your pockets, folding and unfolding it, with blood staining the outside corners. It was the most valuable thing you had; a perfectly preserved moment of pure happiness, smiles upon all of your faces with crinkles up to your eyes.
You took a step back, allowing some space between you and the picture, more than you had allowed in years. Tears prickled in your eyes. Leaving this behind would be the final act in convincing Dean that you were really gone.
You took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed. You stared at the door with an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Waiting for him to come back was agonizing, but you knew it would only get worse from the moment he arrived. It was like you were awaiting your own certain heartbreak. There was no version of this night ending without your heart shattering beyond any chance of repair.
A low vibration from your phone pulled your attention away from the doorway after a indiscernible time had passed.
Can we talk? Sam won't be back for a while. - Dean.
You clenched your jaw in an effort to stop the subtle twitching of your lower lip. You quickly typed back a response effectively saying that you had something you needed to talk to him about as well, carrying a coolness within your wording that should startle him. He knew you well enough to know something was off even through a text message.
He'd see right through you in a second. He'd know you were under duress and you were beyond afraid of losing him the second your cold expression faltered. You'd end up losing him either way; but at least this way he'd still be alive.
The only way to save him is to be as cruel as you possibly can; aim directly at his biggest insecurity, the one thing he invests wholeheartedly in, the one thing he is afraid will reject him... you.
You waited anxiously for Dean to come back, blinking away the tears in your eyes. A part of you desperately begged to tell Dean everything, to explain to him that Crowley was blackmailing you and his life was in danger if you didn't completely destroy the one good thing you had in your life. All you wanted to do was hold him; you wanted to feel the softness of his hair in your fingers and callouses on his hands. You just wanted to fall asleep next to him.
But instead you were going to break his heart and yours along with it.
A soft rattling on the other side of the door signaled that Dean was fidgeting with the keys. You quickly wiped the remaining tears from your eyes, drying them before he had any chance of seeing how much you were hurting.
The door pressed open, carrying Dean behind it. He smiled lightly at you as he closed the door behind him. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and rubbed his hands together, biting his lip. He looked... nervous.
You studied him as he debated whether or not he should sit on the bed across from you or begin whatever speech he had rolling in his head as he paced around the room. You took a deep breath, forcing your face clear of concern.
"What's this about, Dean?" You asked flatly. His head perked up. He didn't seem to notice the shift in your tone as a gentle smile lifted his lips. He moved across the room and took a seat on the bed opposite you.
"I uh, I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier... at the bar." He said, his fingers curling on the edge of the mattress. He looked so young in that moment, wide eyes tracing your face with anticipation.
You narrowed your eyes on him, nodding. "Good. I wanted to talk to you about that, too."
"You did?" Dean grinned. You could see the excitement, the hope behind his expression and you realized suddenly what he wanted to talk to you about. It hit you like truck.
He wanted to make this real. He wanted to, honest to God, be with you in the light of day instead of hiding in the shadows. You're heart nearly snapped in two.
Dean ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous laugh escaping him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be obvious about it or whatever. I guess I forgot Sam was there. It's hard to focus on anything else, really, when you're in the room..."
You swallowed, keeping your face stern. "No, it's okay. I'm glad it happened."
Dean caught your eye then, a flash of that same memory of pure happiness upon his features that now sat upon his dresser drawer, entirely out of your reach. It was such a rarity when he allowed himself to feel this free, this at ease. All you wanted to do was revel in it and give in to him and love him the way he deserved.
God, he doesn't deserve this.
But he also doesn't deserve hell.
"It made me realize something." You continued, dragging your gaze away from Dean, unable to handle the genuine adoration he watched you with. It will only be wiped away in a matter of minutes. You didn't know if you could bare to watch it slip from his features. "This... you and me... it's clearly gone too far."
Dean straightened his back, the smile immediately disappearing from his face. He pursed his lips, furrowing his brows. He shook his head, the complete confusion and shock swimming on his features. This was clearly not the way he expected the conversation to go. It shouldn't have gone this way.
Maybe if Crowley never found you earlier tonight, you would have been smiling with Dean. Maybe you would have laughed and kissed him and told him how you really felt.
But this wasn't a fantasy.
"(Y/n)..." Dean breathed, his eyes searching yours for answers you wouldn't dare allow him to find.
You forced a frown and folded your arms over your chest to appear more closed off. There's no turning back now. No last chance to preserve what you had. Crowley's words rang in the back of your head, demanding believability.
"You're too invested in this, Dean." You shrugged casually, careful to ignore the instantaneous hurt upon his face. "I mean, I could tell you were starting to get clingy. Which, by the way, was the one thing I thought I could count on you not to do. You're literally known for being physically unable to commit. And now... what? You want to walk into the sunset holding hands or some shit?"
Dean's eyes fell to the floor. He rubbed his hands on his jeans; they were sweating. Your stomach plummeted.
"Where is this coming from?" Dean asked softly, though he couldn't meet your eye. His voice was so small, like a child's. It broke your heart.
"I never wanted to be in a relationship, Dean." You pressed, warring with yourself to keep your tone cold and unsympathetic. "This was supposed to easy. Why are you trying to ruin what we've got going? It was supposed to be casual and meaningless."
Dean caught your eye this time, that final word striking a chord deep in his chest. His lips parted slightly, just staring at you, studying you, before he could form words.
"You can't tell me this doesn't mean anything to you."
You sighed, your body physically fighting against every word you spoke though you forced your expression to remain unaffected by the obvious disappointment and heartache consuming the man in front of you.
You rolled your eyes, swallowing back the burn in your throat. "Dean, I could have been sneaking off with Sam instead and it wouldn't have made any difference. It was supposed to be fun. I thought we were on the same page."
"Why are you saying this?" Dean whispered, standing to his feet. He paced across the room, rubbing his hands over his face. "This isn't you... this isn't right. You... you don't mean this. You can't."
"I'm sorry this isn't what you want to hear..." You started with a sharpness to your tone that caused Dean to spin on his heels to face you. The complete look of shock silenced you immediately.
"There's something else going on. There has to be." Dean said, convinced. He sat down next to you, cautiously placing his hand over yours. "I'm not crazy, (Y/n). We've been friends for years. I know this meant a hell of a lot more to you than you're saying. I know you care about me. This... this isn't one-sided. I know it isn't. So please, just tell me what's wrong. Let me help you."
"What do you want me to say, Dean?" You scoffed, yanking your hand away. This time it was you who stood up and walked to the other side of the room.
Feeling his hand on yours was almost enough to convince you to drop this whole act and spend the rest of the night crying against his chest and begging for forgiveness. You almost gave in. But a memory of hellhounds clawing at Dean's stomach, ripping and mutilating him, kept you grounded to your course.
"I want you to tell me the truth, (Y/n)." Dean said honestly.
You chuckled darkly, folding your arms over your chest.
Dean sighed, his eyes glancing over at the duffle packed in the corner of the room. He stared at it for a minute, almost as if his breath hitched in his lungs. He looked back to you, his lips parted.
"What?" You hissed.
"You're leaving?" Dean breathed, standing to his feet. "You... you can't."
"Why not?" You snapped, shrugging your shoulders. "Now that all of this is out in the open, it's only going to be uncomfortable for all of us. I'm doing us a favor, Dean."
"No..." Dean whispered, stepping closer to you, his left hand outstretched as if to touch you but he held it in the air for a second before dropping it to his side. Before tonight he wouldn't have thought twice about it. Now, he's stopping his most natural instincts mid-motion. "Please, (Y/n). I... I need you here. We can... we can forget about all this, okay? We can just pretend it never happened. Just, please, don't go."
You clenched your jaw until the muscle was sore, looking away from him. "I was always a better hunter on my own anyway. Besides, there's no reason for me to stay now that this is done."
Dean's eyes widened and he stepped back, setting his hand on the bed to balance him. He looked like he was just hit in the gut.
As you watched him, he slowly gathered himself and straightened his back. He took a deep breath, ridding the hurt from his face, determined more than ever to convince you to stay.
"I'll give you a reason." Dean said, his voice stronger now. He stepped closer to you and you could feel his eyes tracing your features, desperately trying to understand you. His hands were shaking slightly and you could almost hear the beat of his heart.
You looked up at him for the first time in what felt like hours. The warmth in his eyes almost melted you. It was nearly impossible to keep the emotionless, cold facade going.
Dean sighed, biting his lip and running his trembling hand through his hair. "Ok. So, I didn't exactly want to tell you like this but..."
"Just spit it out, Dean." You snarled.
He didn't seem to take offense. God, why was it so hard to make him hate you?
Dean met your stare, a soft smile on his lips despite the frown upon yours.
"I love you."
No.
Your breath left your lungs and you almost choked on the dry air, though you didn't dare let Dean see the signs that your heart was caving in on itself. You curved your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms, certainly drawing blood. It was all you could do to keep from crying.
I love you too, you screamed in your head. Your entire body ached for him. You needed him to know that he was worth so much more than how you were treating him in this moment. You knew how hard it is for him to open up like this.
He was handing his heart to you with only a small request to not shatter it between your fingers.
Dean chewed on his lower lip, studying you as he waited for a response. You groaned, backing away from him. His smile faded instantly.
"You don't love me, Dean." You accused, shaking your head as if to mock him.
Dean narrowed his eyes, clearly taken back. He watched you walk away from him and the action almost seemed to frustrate him. Good, you thought. Get angry.
"You can't tell me how I feel, (Y/n)." Dean said sternly. "You, of all people, know how hard it is for me to let someone in like this. I not saying this for kicks or for some half-ditched attempt to make you stay. I don't ever lie to you, (Y/n). You know that."
You turned back to face him, a scowl on your features. "Really? You want to stand there and try to convince me that you're in love with me?"
Dean nodded, standing taller. "If that's what it takes."
You laughed, though your voice didn't sound like your own. You hated it. You hated yourself.
You paced around the room, pursing your lips like you were gathering the ammunition to destroy whatever love Dean honestly did have for you. Knowing that this night would be the last memory Dean has of you before you disappeared haunted you to your core.
"You have no idea how to love, Dean." You growled, forcing your voice cruel and unforgiving. "You throw yourself in front of bullets for other people and call it love. That's not love. That's hating yourself so much you don't care if you die or not. Jumping into the fire to save me or Sam isn't heroic or some bullshit symbol of devotion or loyalty or whatever. It's pathetic and it's weak."
Dean's stance faltered, thought you wouldn't allow yourself to catch a glimpse of the pain that was undoubtedly radiating on his face.
"You can barely stand to look yourself in the mirror." You spat, continuing, as if what you had already said wasn't enough. You needed him to hate you beyond a doubt. This was the only way. "Why the hell would I willingly give myself to man that can hardly keep himself together? You're a mess, Dean. You can't even sleep through the night without someone lying next to you."
Dean remained silent. It was the first time you had ever known him to be at a loss for words. You had never once spoken to him with anything other than the care and gentleness that he deserved but would never dare ask for. You knew how hard he was on himself and how ashamed he was to feel anything other than stonecold. You knew how afraid he was to fall asleep alone, knowing he would only be met with the most terrifying of nightmares beyond imagination. You knew that every time he was left alone with this thoughts, he only ever though the worst of himself despite the layer of confidence and arrogance he kept on the surface.
You knew these things because he trusted you enough to confide in you. That kind of trust took years to build and even then, it only came in pieces. You gave all of your time to help him break down the walls he kept around his heart. You promised him that his insecurities would be safe with you. You promised him that you would never judge him and that you would be the one person he knew he could feel safe enough with to open up to.
Now, you were throwing it all back in his face.
You turned your back to him, quickly wiping the tears in your eyes before he could see them even begin to form.
"Love me?" You mocked, slowly turning to face him once you were certain the evidence of your heartache had disappeared. "You have never loved anyone in your life, Dean! Lisa was just a pathetic escape route for you to deal with your crap once Sam jumped in the pit. You just weren't strong enough to stick around with me and do your damn job! And let's not forget all of the countless women you've slept with! I mean... do you even have an accurate count? You pretend like you're some kind of player but you're really just looking to play house with some sleazy chick for a night and act like someone actually cares about you."
All you could hear in the room was your own heavy breathing and the quiet crackling from the air conditioning unit. You drew in a shaky breath, keeping your eyes averted from Dean's silhouette.
You sighed. "Maybe there is a part of you that really does love Sam once you get past all the codependent shit. But don't stand there and try to tell me that you love me because you don't. Even if you did, I don't want to be someone you love. Haven't you noticed? They all wind up dead."
You swallowed hard, waiting for Dean to say something, to even scream or hit you. You stood there, lingering in the aftermath of lies you spat from your lips, wishing he would just pull the colt from his jeans and put a bullet between your eyes. Hurting him like this was the worst thing you've ever done.
You finally allowed yourself to catch a glimpse of his face and you regretted it instantly. A line ran on his cheek; a trail of the single tear reflecting in the dim motel light.
The silence between you was agonizing. It took everything you had not to collapse. You never imagined in your worst nightmares that he would look so broken, so defeated. You were the cause of that. You shattered him. You targeted his biggest insecurities and mocked him. He loved you and you spat in his face.
You felt sick.
"Maybe you're right." Dean whispered, his eyes glued to the floor. He didn't lift his head to face you. "If you want to leave... I won't stop you."
You clenched your jaw, biting the inside of your lip and tasting blood. You took a deep breath and grabbed the handles of the duffle bag before slinging it over your shoulder. Not a single word passed your lips as you made your way to the door. You knew any attempt to speak aloud would only be met with your own tears. You couldn't hold the act much longer.
It took all the strength you had left to cross the threshold of the door. You paused for a moment, almost praying that Dean would suddenly see through this act and beg you stay. You were never a woman of faith, but you always prayed when it came to him.
You stepped out into the cold, only allowing a second for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. You'd have to hotwire a car or hitchhike your way out of this town. You wouldn't have to try too hard to disappear. Dean wouldn't want anything to do with you after tonight.
You didn't mean to, but when you turned to close the door behind you, you caught a glimpse of Dean. His shoulders were hunched over and he had already pulled the emergency bottle of bourbon from his bag. His gaze was directed away from you. He didn't even notice your eyes on him.
He was too busy staring at the picture left behind on his nightstand.

It was near impossible to sleep in the old motel room you managed to find out in Colorado. You weren't even sure what town you were in. It was a miracle in itself that you were even able to uncover the state you landed on. The blizzard outside was nearing a whiteout and driving on those roads any longer was a sure death sentence.
The heater barely worked, so you had to pile layers of musty blankets on top of the thin comforter. You were still shivering, your teeth still chattering. Sleep was unlikely given the loud clicking of the radiator and the inability to remain warm. You hadn't slept in what felt like years.
You wore constant dark circles under your eyes, red and swollen like you spend most of your time in tears. Your skin had grown pale and your body thin, hardly able to eat. You spent most of your free time worrying about Dean, petrified that Crowley would go back on his end of the deal. You had lost all contact with the Winchesters when you left that night. After what you did to Dean, you weren't all that sure Sam would even take the time to track you down to tell you if something happened to his brother anyway.
You clenched your jaw and tried to pull the blankets tighter under your chin. It didn't seem to help. The bright red light illuminating from the bedside alarm clock signaled that it was almost three in the morning and you had yet to get any kind of rest. A part of you debated driving the rest of the way to your case in Nevada and if the snowstorm killed you along the way, so be it; at least your car had heat.
Your hand naturally reached for the other side of the bed when the shivering was almost too much to handle. It took you a moment to realize why you had down that; you were searching for Dean. You were looking for his warmth, his body, his arms to wrap tightly around yours. You closed your eyes, biting down hard on your lip.
Sometimes you wondered if he missed you. You knew it was a misplaced hope, but you couldn't help but imagine that he lied awake at night sometimes wishing you were there with him. It was foolish to think he want anything to do with you after the night you left.
You laid out all of his insecurities in front of him, spitting them in his face. You were the one person he trusted wholeheartedly to keep, what he believed to be, his shameful secrets locked away. You were supposed to help him and protect him from himself. You weren't supposed hurt him like this.
If he hated you now, at least you knew he was safe. If he hated you, then he was alive. You did your job. You held up your end of the deal. If Dean was somehow able to figure out that you had lied that night, if there was a part of him that still cared for you, he'd wind up in hell, strapped to the rack.
Dean wasn't in hell now, but it felt like you were.
A sudden pounding on the door made your heart skip a beat. You jumped from under the covers and groaned when the cold air hit you. Your hand slipped beneath your pillow and the cool metal of your handgun curled within your palm.
With the barrel of the gun aimed at the door, you made your way towards the entrance. The pounded against the frame rang out again.
You slowly stepped closer to the insistent pounding, carefully shielding the gun before you opened the door. There was no peephole, so the only way to know who was on the other side was to open the door and take a look for yourself.
You took in a deep breath, and opened the barrier only a few inches.
Dean's arm was raised in the air like he was about to slam his fist against the door for the fourth time. Your eyes widened the second his stare caught yours. All of the air in your lungs evaporated.
You quickly slammed the door shut and stumbled back into the room, sealing the barrier between you the man you loved. Your gun fell from the tips of your fingers and landed with a distant thud on the carpet.
"(Y/n)!" Dean shouted, his voice muffled from the high winds and the deafening beating of your own heart. "Open the door! We need to talk right now!"
You shook your head in disbelief, staring at the door with wide, fearful eyes. Your breathing was short and labored, your hands now shaking though it was no longer from the chilled air.
You had spent so much time dreaming that Dean would find you and somehow forgive for all the horrible things you said to him that night, but now that he was actually here it felt like a train had hit you in your gut. There was only one of two reasons why he would show up here after so much time has passed: to kill you for the pain you had caused him, or to save you from yourself and try to stop Crowley's end of the deal.
You weren't sure which was worse.
Dean's continued pounding on the other side of the door startled you out of your trance. It felt like you were paralyzed. You couldn't move, or breath. You could barely keep your knees locked beneath you.
You didn't know if you could play this act again. It had been almost four months since you'd seen him last. It was the most time you had gone without him by your side since you were nineteen. You ached for him like you had never craved anything else in your life. There was no chance in hell you could keep this facade going.
Still, you found yourself walking towards the door. You didn't know what version of Dean would be on the other side, but a part of you was hoping he'd just end you. You were so tired of the guilt and the shame and the loneliness. At least maybe he would get closure.
Your fingers touched the cold handle, rusty beneath your skin. You took a deep breath and carefully parted the entrance to the room.
Dean immediately threw the door the rest of the way open and it slammed with a bang against the adjacent wall before you had a chance to change your mind. His hands rapidly curled around your shoulders as he kicked the door shut behind him. You winced at the sound.
You barely had time to process what was happening as Dean ran you against the wall. Your back slammed against the peeling wallpaper and you groaned. You clutched onto his forearm, now draped over your collarbone, pinning you against the wall with little ability to move.
Once you finally caught your breath, you looked up to see Dean studying you. His upper lip was twitching, his eyes scanning you as if he was searching for something. You could tell his stare lingered on the seemingly permanent dark circles under your eyes and the protruding bones that were once covered by muscle and soft layers of skin. He wasn't expecting you to look like this and it took him by surprise.
You knew how tired you looked and how miserable you had been these last few months without him. You knew it was probably obvious on your features. Because of that, you knew the longer he stayed here, the more likely it was that he would catch on.
You had to protect him. You needed him to walk away. He came here because he wanted answers; answers you could only give to him if it meant trading his soul in return. You wouldn't allow that to happen if it killed you.
"Dean," you choked out, struggling against him. "You need to leave... now."
Dean narrowed his eyes on you, ignoring your demand. He had intentions of his own.
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why the hell you lied to me that night."
Your eyes widened and you were sure Dean felt your heart stop beneath his grasp. You forced your voice to be steady despite the fear for his life crippling you. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't lie to me!" Dean bellowed, pushing you harder against the wall. You winced, edging away from him the best you could. You knew he wasn't using his full force and he was holding himself back from really hurting you. It was then you noticed the red staining the white in his eyes. It matched yours.
He dropped his hands, backing away abruptly as if he just realized how much his anger had overtaken him in his pursuit for the truth.
You took a deep breath and massaged your shoulder. All you could do was stare at him, watching as he tried to find the words he must have practiced a thousand times before he found the courage to track you down.
"I spent a lot of time blaming myself for what happened between us." Dean said suddenly. He didn't face you. Maybe if he did, he would see the tears building behind your eyes. You were thankful he didn't. "I thought maybe if I had done something differently, you wouldn't have said those things and you wouldn't have left. Maybe if I had been stronger or... or a better man, you wouldn't have thought so low of me."
You folded your arms over your chest, biting your lip. Dean sat down on the bed, raking his hands through his untidy hair. He looked just as restless and defeated as you were.
It was clear he came here with the intention to demand answers from you, whether that meant beating it out of you or not, but once he actually found you his whole plan fell apart.
There was a part of him that still cared.
Dean took a deep breath and turned to face you, his once vibrant eyes had become distant and harsh. He swallowed, unable to keep your stare any longer. He shrugged off his jacket and set it on the bed next to him. He was wearing the flannel you bought him for his birthday a few years back. You wondered if he remembered.
"Dean..." You started, preparing yourself to convince him to leave again, but he cut you off.
"After I stopped wallowing in my own pity, I started to hate you." Dean said, resting his elbows on his thighs. His clasped his hands together in an attempt to cease the nervous twitching in his fingers. "And I mean... really hate you. I hated you for making me open up to you. I hated you for allowing me to fall in love with you and then throwing it back in my face like I... like I meant nothing to you. I hated you for leaving and deserting me when I begged you to stay. I hated you for a long time, (Y/n)."
You nodded, looking up at the edge of the ceiling to keep back your tears.
"About a month ago, I guess Sam got tired of me throwing myself into reckless cases o blow off steam and gave me that picture you left behind that night; the one of the three of us." Dean recalled, his voice much softer now. "It was taken before my dad died but long enough after Sam lost Jess that he wasn't so... you know."
You finally looked in Dean's direction to see him watching you. You knew he could sense the pain radiating from your body, but he didn't comment on it. Your lips parted slightly as dread ran through your veins.
Dean shook his head, memories playing behind his eyes. He stood up, slowly making his way towards you. "You carried that thing everywhere we went for years. It's nothing more than an old scrap of paper. It's faded and stained. Any sensible person would have thrown it out years ago, but not you. You used to tell me it was reassurance that one day, when this is all over, we could be as happy as we were in that picture. You wouldn't do any of that if you didn't care."
"Dean..." You started again, desperate to derail him from the truth but the words fell short in your mouth.
He was only a foot away from you now; just one more step. You backed up, feeling the wall against your shoulders. Dean moved closer to you, carefully reaching out and touching your arms.
"Dean, no." You pressed your hands against his chest, pushing him away from you despite your desperate need to hold him. "I'm being serious. You need to leave right now."
Your eyes kept glancing towards the door, certain that Crowley had been watching you from the second you left Dean's motel room all those months ago. You were always living in a constant fear of him showing up unexpectedly and tonight was no different.
"(Y/n), I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me." Dean said, though his voice was calming and reassuring rather than frustrated and angry like you thought he should be. "I just want to understand why you tried so hard to make me hate you that night. If you want to be on your own... that's okay, I promise. I just want to make things right with us. I want us to be friends again... at least. Please, (Y/n)..."
"You need to leave, Dean. I don't... I don't want you here." You shook your head, backing away when he reached out for you again. You weren't convincing anyone, certainly not Dean.
Tears welled in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around your body, eyes constantly glancing back at the door, waiting for Crowley and a pair of hellhounds to walk through.
"(Y/n), please, just talk to me. Let me help you." Dean whispered, following your worried glimpses towards the door. He could sense something was off with you. He could sense your fear. You could almost see the guilt in his eyes for not catching it in that night all those months ago.
Dean quickly pulled you against his chest, encasing you against him in an effort to calm you down and comfort you, though it only seemed to make things worse. You pushed against him, certain that the very act of him holding you like this was enough evidence for Crowley to prove that you had failed on your end of the deal.
"Stop!" You screamed, your frail voice piercing through the nearly silent motel. You slammed your fist against his chest, punching him though it was the last thing you wanted to do. "Get off of me!"
Dean only held you tighter. For a brief second you caught sight of his eyes, staring at you as you kicked and struggled against him. You froze, your heart dropping as you noticed the one thing in his eyes you never thought you would see again.
Forgiveness.
You kicked his shin suddenly and he groaned, though he didn't release you.
"Stop it! Stop looking at me like that!" You screamed through the sobs nearly choking you. "You're supposed to hate me! Why can't you just fucking hate me!"
Dean stepped back, but only so you would stop bruising his body in an attempt to get away from him, though it seemed like a part of him knew that you didn't really want him to let go of you at all.
He reached his arm out towards you tentatively, "(Y/n), talk to me, please..."
"We're done talking, Dean! Get out!" You screeched, running towards the door and throwing it open. You pointed towards the blizzard outside as the cold air rushed in. The snow spilled onto the doormat.
Dean took a deep breath and slowly walked towards you. Your heart was beating rapidly as he made his way across the room. Once he was only a foot away from you, he stared out at the snow, studying it for a moment as if he was considering listening to your demands. You were losing your will to keep this act up and it didn't pass his notice.
Dean's fingers curled around the edge of the door, and gently took it from your grasp and closed it. The loud whistling of the wind ceased. Your hand fell, knowing all hope of keeping from away from you was fading.
"Please..." You whispered, tears prickling in your eyes as your voice quivered. A lump built in your throat almost instantaneously. Dean's face softened, watching as you nearly collapsed. He gathered you in his arms and you held onto him with all you had left in you. "Please, Dean. I'm begging you. Walk out that door and don't ever come looking for me again. Please..."
"I'm not walking out on you." Dean said like it was a basic fact of his life. Your heart nearly snapped in two, baffled why he would ever dare to forgive you for the things you said that night, let alone confidently assure you that he wouldn't leave you on your own.
"You don't understand... you have to go..." You shook your head, your tears staining his shirt, though he didn't seem to mind. "He might already know you're here."
Dean pulled back suddenly, his eyes wide and scanning yours for answers. "What did you just say?"
You froze, your breath caught in your lungs. You pressed your lips tightly together.
"Is someone after you? Did someone threaten you?" Dean asked gently, cupping the side of you face with his palm. You bit your limp, trying to stop the tears before they fell with no avail. Dean's thumb wiped away the wetness in your cheeks.
"Is that why you lied to me that night? Is that why you were trying so hard to make me hate you... to keep me away? To protect me from... from whoever this is?" Dean prodded. He took a deep breath as a million questions were clearly ringing through the back of his mind.
Losing all will to lie to him any longer, you nodded.
Dean's entire body seemed to have sighed of relief. "So... so you never meant any of that? You don't think those things of me?"
The sea of green swimming within his eyes, almost melted you. You clenched your jaw, eyes darting towards the door for a split second.
"I..." You started, though a sob caught you off guard. Dean brought back against his chest, holding you so tightly you were sure that you could feel the beat of his heart against yours. "I'm... I'm so s-sorry."
"Shhh," Dean whispered, running his fingers gently through your hair and down your back. He set his chin on the crown of your head. "It's alright, Sweetheart. It's going to be okay."
You nodded, though you didn't believe him.

You stood there for what felt like hours, pressed against Dean's chest. Your hands curled tightly around the warm fabric of his flannel. You didn't dare let him go, too afraid for the moment to end. You knew what was coming. He didn't. Not yet.
After a while, Dean pulled back. "I know this guy has got you running scared, but I need you to tell me who's threatening you. What has got you so afraid that you couldn't tell me, or Sam, what was going on? Why did you run?"
You stared at him for a minute, just taking in the freckles kissed upon his skin and the warmth within his eyes. The fear of losing him was crippling.
"Crowley." You whispered and suddenly Dean's upper lip began to twitch in rage. "But Dean he's not after me-"
"I'm going to kill him!" Dean growled, backing away from you and punching the wall. You winced, knowing it surely broken skin.
You raced towards him, grabbing his arm and drawing his attention back to you. "Dean, listen to me. Crowley's threat wasn't against me. He... he threatened you."
Dean narrowed his eyes, confused.
You took a deep breath, pushing your hair from your eyes nervously. "He came to me after I left the bar that night."
"He what?" Dean snarled, clearly furious that this had all gone down without his knowledge. He always had a habit of blaming himself for what he couldn't control.
"He said that I... that our relationship had made you soft. He said that I was the reason that you're not as good of a hunter as you used to be." You said tentatively, nervous for Dean's reaction. His face was almost blank. You sighed. "Crowley said that the only way to make you ruthless and cold and cruel again was to... to drag you back to Hell and torture it out of you."
Dean's eyes widened and you could almost feel the increase of his heartbeat across the room.
You grabbed his hand to remind him of your presence. "So, I told Crowley that I would leave instead. I thought maybe if I was out of the picture, Crowley could still get what he wanted without sending you back to Hell. But he told me the only way he wouldn't send the hellhounds after you anyway was if I..."
"If you said every last thing you could to make me hate you. You needed to be sure I wouldn't come looking for you." Dean finished, squeezing your hand back and meeting your eye. "You had to hurt me to save my life."
You nodded, brushing away the tears slipping past your eyes. You looked back at the door again. "But Dean... he must know by now that you're here and that you... that you know everything. I went back on my end of the deal and now he's going to..."
Dean pressed his lips to your forehead as he had done a thousand times before, though in that moment it felt like the first time. It effectively took the words from your mouth.
"You are not responsible for what Crowley threatens against me, you understand?" Dean whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "We'll fight this. Together."
You nodded, and for a moment you believed him.
Until you heard the faint growl of hounds in the distance.
Dean stumbled back away from the door instantly, nearly tripping over his feet. He grabbed onto the wall for balance, staring out the windows from the opposite side of the room with wide and fearful eyes. The confidence and sureness he carried only seconds prior faded in an instant at the sound of the approaching hellhounds.
"Dean, get Cas here now!" You shouted, your voice stronger now as you charged across the room to grab your gun. You quickly turned the safety off, knowing what was on the other side of that door deserved no restraint. When you didn't hear Dean's voice behind you calling for the angel, you looked over your shoulder, though you were careful not to keep your eyes off the door for too long. "Dean?"
He didn't look at you. It was like he was paralyzed. It had been years since you've seen him like this. You slid your gun into the back of your jeans and ran towards him, ignoring the clamoring of paws on the pavement outside.
You placed his face in your hands, desperate to grab his attention. "Dean! Dean, look at me."
You could feel his heartbeat in your fingertips resting against his neck. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the direction of the barking. The vicious growling only grew louder with each passing second. They were running.
You ran your thumb gently along Dean's cheek, your fingers edging on the nape of his neck, calming him in the only way you knew how. Once he finally able to look at you, you saw the absolute terror racing within him.
He wouldn't dare mention it aloud, but you knew he was more afraid in this moment than he had ever been in his life. Afraid of hell itself. Afraid of the rack. Afraid of the man he becomes when he trades his humanity to escape the torture.
"I am not going to let him drag you back there." You said sternly and much more confidently than you should. There was no plan, no escape route. You had no idea how the two of you were going to get out of this, but you knew with absolute certainty that you would sooner die than allow Crowley to drag Dean back to the pit. That was enough, for now.
The suddenly and piercing sound of nails clawing at the motel door startled you and sent a wave of horror through Dean. You could feel it radiating off of him.
"Dean, call Cas. Right now." You whispered, stepped closer to the door, acting as a barrier between the dogs on the other side and Dean.
As the door began to rattle and the barking became deafening, you could still make out the sound of Dean's voice praying rapidly to his best friend. You found yourself desperately doing the same.
Just as the door nearly collapsed, you raised your gun, ready to shoot blindly until the room was silent of the dogs. You felt Dean's presence behind you, his own gun aimed towards the door. His hands were clearly shaking slightly, though he took the time to smile weakly at you in an effort to make you feel better despite the pit in his stomach. He took a deep breath and steadied himself.
There was no preparing for what was about to shred its way through the entrance.
With a loud crash, the door unhinged and fell to the floor as an eruption of growling and barks pierced your eardrums. Time felt as if it stood still.
You felt Dean's arms wrap tightly around your stomach, yanking you backwards just as a blinding light filled the room and a familiar voice shouted words you could barely understand. Dean's hand covered your eyes, holding you against him as you heard the hounds whimper and cry out.
You could feel his heart beating rapidly through his chest, though his breathing was much more even now. He seemed calm, like he somehow knew that everything was going to be alright.
The hounds' cried ceased and the bodies all seemed to fall over with a heavy thud.
"It is safe now." A deep voice spoke through the lingering silence and Dean instantly released you. Cas.
You opened your eyes slowly, rubbing them to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. Cas peered down at you with narrowed eyes, massaging his hand. His trench coat was hanging off his shoulder and his hair was just as messy as you remembered. The vibrant blue of his eyes felt like they could stare directly into your soul.
You turned away, ashamed. Cas was your friend, too, before the night you left. You were certain he came to Dean's defense and learned to hate you in the same way Dean had. He was never someone you wanted to disappoint. He always thought so highly of you.
Dean jumped to his feet and threw his arms around the angel, catching him off guard in a brief embrace. Dean pulled back, hitting Cas lightly on his shoulder.
"You have a nasty habit of showing up last minute, man." Dean chuckled, bringing about a nervous smile in the angel.
You could see Cas staring at you from the corner of your eye. He bent down and extended his hand to you. You looked up at him, confused. Cas offered a reassuring smile before you allowed him to help you to your feet.
"Are you okay, (Y/n)?" Cas asked, his deep voice setting a wave of peace within you when you only expected fear.
"I'm.. I'm fine. Thanks, Cas." You whispered, glancing towards the door. Your eyes fell upon the bloods of blood lining the carpet. The sudden relief in Dean and the calm in Cas did not find a place in you.
Their voices became a distant muffle as you paced around the room. You couldn't help but twitch at every whistle of the wind or crackle of the furnace. This wasn't over and you seemed to be the only one who knew that. Hell was not in short supply of dogs.
"Crowley won't stop." You interjected. Cas and Dean both turned to face you, dropping whatever sense of normalcy they both held in their features. Dean moved closer towards you, but crossed your arms over your chest. You needed to protect yourself for when you lose him again.
You took a deep breath as Dean stepped back. "He'll just keep sending hellhounds after Dean until he gets what he wants."
"She has a point," spoke a thick scottish accent, forcing your heart to skip a beat.
The three of you spun around immediately, two guns and the power of heaven ready to strike, only to face the King of Hell himself.
Crowley laughed, clearly unbothered by the threat against him. His stare lingered between you and Dean. "I see the two of you are back together. I'm not surprised."
You narrowed your eyes, watching as he paced around the room. He paused and tapped his leg against the air, kicking a dead hellhound invisible to your eyes.
"You killed my dogs." Crowley groaned, looking up towards you and Cas with a frown.
"You tried to kill Dean." You spat back, clicking back the safety of your gun. You knew it would do nothing to maim the demon but it would certainly hurt. Cas' hand reached out and pressed your arms down until the gun aimed at the floor.
"What are you doing?" You hissed at the angel, though you didn't raise your weapon again.
Cas remained silent as he stepped forward, walking around the hellhounds towards Crowley as if he could see the beasts' bodies below him. You felt Dean's hand slip into yours, intertwining fingers and grasping onto you. You made no effort to move away from him this time. Perhaps it was the lingering fear, or maybe your desperate need to be close to him that outweighed your misplaced attempt to protect your heart.
"This deal is none of your business, Castiel." Crowley growled. "Feel free to go back to whatever cloud you spend your free time on."
"You have no dealings here, Crowley." Cas accused, his voice low enough to set vibrations through your chest. "There is no contract. No deal. You have no right to Dean's soul."
Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically. "I think you're forgetting I'm the bloody King of Hell! I can do what I want."
While the Crowley's sudden outburst shook you to your core, Cas remained unaffected. You could practically see the rage building behind the angel's eyes. His lip twitched and his eyes narrowed, as if he could stare bullets.
Cas took a step closer to Crowley and you noticed the slight falter in the demon's stance despite the confidence in his face.
"And I think you're forgetting that I am an angel of the Lord. I can wipe you from existence..." Cas threatened, raising his hand as a white light consumed his palm. Crowley stared at the light, clearly startled. The light dimmed and Cas let his hand fall back to his side. "...but I chose not to because you are useful to me. You only survive because I allow it. You would do well to remember that."
Crowley straightened his back, glancing over towards you and Dean. You felt Dean's heart jump for a second and you squeezed his hand to remind him you were there. An old habit. Crowley turned his attention back to the angel.
Cas' features were unchanged, sturdy, and intimidating even to you.
"You will not come after Dean again. You will not attempt to coerce (Y/n) to suit your own needs." Cas demanded with the kind of confidence you always admired in him. "If either of them ever so much as hear a hellhound again, I will come for you and I will end you. Do I make myself clear?"
Crowley narrowed his eyes, scanning Cas' face for signs of a bluff but fell short. "Alright, alright. I hear you. Sue me for trying to return Dean to his glory days. None of you ever appreciate me anyway."
"You're sick..." You whispered, drawing Crowley's attention towards you. He only smiled an unpleasant grin before snapping his fingers and then he was gone.
Dean's entire body relaxed next to you. Cas' shoulders fell and he made his way back towards the two of you.
"Are you alright, Dean?" Cas asked sincerely. "I know how difficult this ordeal must be for you. Memories of Hell are your most frequent nightmares, aren't they?"
"I'm good, Cas. Thanks." Dean forced a smile, though you could still feel the rapid beating of his heart. "I uh... I didn't think you still had that kind of angel juice in you."
"I don't. I haven't had that kind of power in a long time." Cas confessed, shrugging his shoulders. "But Crowley doesn't need to know that."
Dean laughed and he seemed to lose the tension in his body. "Good work, man."
"It is always my pleasure to be of service to you, Dean." Cas said, his voice low and warm. You smiled. His loyalty to the Winchesters was unlike anything else.
"Alright, alright." Dean chuckled, hitting the angel lightly on the back, shaking off the moment. "Let's just go home."
Cas nodded, saying that he would meet Dean there. He barely had the energy to transport himself, let alone passengers. Angel disappeared with a soft flutter of wings.
Dean shook his head with a smile on his lips as he stumbled his way across the floor, careful not to trip over the bodies of hellhounds upon the floor.
You remained still in your position on the other side of the room, watching as Dean made his way towards the door and dread built in your stomach. This was it. You had your moment with Dean and now it was over. He was leaving. You were going to be without him again.
You watched as he crossed the room, studying the muscles visible through his shirt and the chestnut hairs effortlessly settled on the crown of his head. If this was the last time you'd see him again, you needed to memorize him this time.
Dean looked over his shoulder, surprised you weren't directly behind him. "(Y/n)? You okay over there?"
You nodded, biting your lip, trying not to meet his eye. "I just... I think I forgot how hard it was being without you. I'm just... I'm not sure I'm ready to do that again. But it's okay... go. I'll be... I'll be fine."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? You're not coming with me?"
You stared at him for a moment, studying the genuine confusion in his features. You fidgeted anxiously, tucking your hands into your pockets.
"You want me to?" You asked with a voice as quiet as a child's.
Dean's face sunk, his lips parting slightly. He held out his hand to you, gesturing for you to come towards him. You did so, not breaking eye contact with him as you passed by the invisible bodies littering the floor. You placed your hand in his the moment you were close enough.
"I want you to come home." Dean said sincerely, letting his free hand play with the ends of your hair. "If that's what you want, too."
You shook your head, fighting the lump in your throat. "You can't possibly forgive me for the things I said to you that night..."
"Well tough... because I do." Dean grinned, trying to cheer you up though he could sense quickly that you were too caught up in trying to fight the tears in your eyes to notice the light behind his produced just by being near you.
Dean's smile faded, noticing your inability to look at him. He recognize the feeling spurring inside of you instantly. Shame. Guilt. Dean pressed his lips together into a thin line, setting his hand gently on the side of your face.
"I still love you, you know." Dean said simply. Your eyes flickered up to his instantly and he couldn't help but allow the smile to return to his face. "I know you only said those things to keep me away from you. I know you were only saying those things to make me hate you so I wouldn't come looking for you. I know you were trying to protect me. I know that saying those things hurt you just as much, if not more, than it hurt to hear them."
You closed your eyes, blinking away tears. Dean sighed, his hand on the side of your face drawing your attention back to him.
Dean smiled once you allowed yourself to look at him again. "(Y/n), if I can promise you only two things in this world... it's that I love you more than I ever thought I could love a woman and I forgive you for everything you think you've done and everything you will do."
You bit your lip, losing yourself in the emerald in his eyes staring down on you with more sincerity and care than you ever believed you deserved. Hours could have passed.
You took a deep breath as every wall you built crumbled down. Tears spilled behind your eyes and you squeezed Dean's hand. "I'm... I'm so sorry I said those things about you... I didn't mean a word of it... you have to know that... it killed me to even say any of it aloud, especially directly to you... and when you told me how you felt that night, I thought I was going to collapse because all I wanted to do give you everything you deserved and tell you how much I loved you and I..."
In one swift motion Dean pressed his lips against yours, silencing the words in your mouth much to your relief. He was just as warm and gentle as you remembered as his hands cupped the sides of your face, his thumbs tracing gently against your cheeks. It wasn't any he hadn't done before, but this was different. It was new in some way.
Perhaps it was the way he moved his lips against your with a new certainty, or the lack of edge the two of you carried whenever you allowed yourselves to be close in fear that someone would notice. Maybe it was the way in which he lingered against your lips, just holding himself there, breathing hot air in striking contrast the cold outside. Whatever the difference was, you felt it deep in your core.
Once he pulled back, he nodded towards the car, reluctant to release your from his grasp. He shoved his hands in his pockets with a nervous laugh. "It's freezing out here, huh?"
You nodded, quickly grabbing the bag you kept packed by the door holding the few possessions you owned. You linked your arm around Dean's and walked with him towards the impala.
Dean took your bag and threw it into the back seat, helping you slide into the passenger seat with a grin.
As Dean made his way around the car to the driver's seat, you found yourself admiring the interior of the old car you had spent so many years in. Just as Dean jumped into his seat and closed the door quickly behind him, you noticed the edges of the faded picture peeking out from behind the driver's sun visor.
Dean followed your gaze and reached out towards the image. He slipped the paper out from behind the barrier and handed it to you.
"I thought you might like this back." Dean said softly, placing the image in your hand.
You stared at it for a while, committing the smiling faces to memory. You had nearly forgotten what you looked like with a smile so wide it set crinkles next to your eyes. You had never been as happy as you were with Dean and Sam. They were your family. They were everything.
A smile curved onto your lips as Dean shifted the car into gear. His hand fell into your lap, squeezing your own. You couldn't help but feel a warmth return in your chest that had been absent just as long as he had been.
You pressed a kiss to his hand, grinning back at him when he began to laugh.
"Let's go home, Dean."