how they are when they're jealous... ft. giyu, mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, rengoku, tengen, & hotaru
authors note: hello. with this new season of demon slayer i felt inspired. lemme know if you guys want more. i sort of went a little crazy with tengen's and hotaru's little stories. ENJOY!
cw: lots of death talk in hotaru's part, maybe slightly suggestive, not proofread
wc: 5k
click here for my masterlist
Giyu hides his jealousy way too well. You two had worked together for a very long time. The first few months of knowing him you didn’t even know if he knew your name let alone that you existed to him. He was not very open so you left him alone the best you could. That was until one day you were eating peacefully and he came and sat next to you. You were stunned, your chewing paused as you slowly looked over at him. He was sitting cross legged beside you, quietly opening his wrapped food. When he noticed you looking he paused and met your eyes.
“Hm?” He hummed, as though he sat next to you all the time. As though you two had said more than three words to each other in months. You didn’t want to scare him off so you just gently shook your head.
“Nothing.” You answered, looking back down at your food, swallowing nervously. Giyu returned his look to his food and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him pause.
“Are you… friendly with Sanemi?” He asked. You furrowed your brow, chancing a glance at him. He met your eyes with a curious stare.
“Sanemi?” You repeated. He nodded his head once. You purse your lips. You were friendly with all the hashira’s except him but you didn’t think that was exactly what he was asking. Well to be honest you weren’t really sure what he was asking so you decided to play it safe.
“Hmm… yes. He’s a friend.” You answer. His face doesn’t reveal anything as he nods his head again, looking back at his food. You wonder if you answered correctly as he suddenly pulls out a little white sweets box. The very same sweets that you would buy as a treat for yourself after missions.
“Just a friend?” He asks as you nod your head, blushing slightly. Giyu looks relieved and hands the sweets over to you without a word.
“Oh… for me?” You ask and he nods his head. When you reach to take it your hands brush and you swear his cheeks pinken.
-
You didn’t think Mitsuri ever got jealous until a few years into your relationship. You two often had missions together which meant you also had time off at the same time. Hiking to the swordsmith village to relax. After settling in you two hit the kitchen. The only thing that could rival your love for each other was your love for food. There were a few other hashira’s around and when you couldn’t pop a jar open you handed it over, sighing, to the closest person, which wasn’t your girlfriend. Shinobu popped it open for you and you continued to help prep the food. That’s when you noticed Mitsuri pouting and when you met her eyes she blushed and looked away embarrassed, returning to helping prepare food. You didn’t think much about it but at dinner she was quiet. You wanted to ask if something was wrong but you didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other hashira’s so you waited until you two were headed back to your shared cabin. Once out of ear shot you reached and tucked her hair behind her ear so you were able to see her face.
“Is something wrong?” You asked, still blushing she shrugged it off, shaking her head.
“No… nothing’s wrong, dear.” She answered quickly. It was an obvious lie.
“Did someone say something to you? To make you upset?”
“No… it’s… nothing important.” She said with a soft shake of her head, like she was trying to trick herself into forgetting about it. You laced your fingers with hers.
“If you're upset then it’s important. Come on, just tell me.” You prodded gently. She gave a little sigh and you could tell she was a little embarrassed but still she opened up to you.
“I’m strong… you know,” She starts, wearily looking over at you.
“I know that.”
“I can open things. Lift things…. You know, you don’t need anyone else to do that kind of stuff.” Slowly you nodded your head, trying to understand what she was saying. “I just wanted you to know that.” You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and that’s when it hit you. You absentmindedly let someone open a jar for you. It really was a small thing but you knew Mitsuri liked to be strong for you. You turned to hide your smile, you pulled her hand to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “That… reminds me, honey, I’m exhausted…”
“You want me to carry you?” She asks excitedly as you softly laughed, nodding your head. MItsuri sweeps you off your feet with ease and you can tell she’s forgotten all about being upset.
-
Obanai doesn’t necessarily get jealous, it's more of a territorial thing. You thought for sure he hated you, little did you know he worshiped you from the start. Sometimes you’d have missions with him and he'd speak about three words to you and sometimes when you were lucky he’d speak full sentences. You didn’t know until later on it was because he was so damn nervous around you. On this particular mission, after slaying the demon, you two went out for drinks. It was wholly awkward so you excused yourself from the table and found your way to the bar. The bartender thanked you for helping with the demon and it felt nice to talk with someone. This whole thing played out for maybe two minutes before the bartender froze, eyes fearful as he glanced behind you. You furrowed your brows and turned as Obanai approached.
“We received another mission, we should get going.” He says as you sigh, nodding your head, he placed some money on the counter for your drinks.
“T-the drinks are on the house.” The bartender offered but Obanai just slid the money over, his eyes sharpening. You watched the whole thing, sort of speechless. When you followed him out he held the door open for you and gave one more heated glance at the bartender. The village you two were currently stationed at was quiet and peaceful.
“Where are we headed next?” You asked as you fell into step with him.
“A few towns over.” He answered and you nodded your head, knowing that was just about as much talking you're probably getting out of him tonight. “Unless you wanted to stay.”
“Stay here?” You asked, he was walking a few steps ahead of you. He didn’t answer. “I wouldn’t have minded having a few more drinks.” You joked.
“With that bartender?” He added and you didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. You paused, deciding whatever you said next you had to tread lightly. You could tease him or you could clear things up.
“At least he talks to me.” You said. He stopped, turning to face you.
“Anything enlightening?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You said and he raised his head just slightly.
“I would.”
“I’m joking, he was just thanking us for taking care of that demon.” You said truthfully as Obanai nodded his head, turning away from you as you walked. You didn’t want the conversation to end. Even though you two never talked much before you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice, wanting more of his attention. Unwittingly you had all of his attention most of the time. You couldn’t think of anything to say.
“You make me nervous,” Obanai says over his shoulder. “That’s why I don’t talk much.”
“Oh,” You were stunned. He turned to face you again and you gave him a soft smile, you wanted him to feel comfortable with you. “Is it because I talk too much?” You ask. Obanai instantly shakes his head ‘no’.
“Don’t stop. I like the sound of your voice.” It almost sounded like a plea.
-
Sanemi lets it be known he’s jealous, he doesn’t care to hide it. Someone’s talking with you, smiling and laughing a bit too much with you? There’s Sanemi saddling up beside you, hand sliding around you to rest on your hip as he pulls you a bit closer to him. He’s shameless. When he first met you, you were in training to be a hashira under Tengen and Sanemi would watch your workouts sometimes. He’d always watch with this sort of intense expression and sometimes it caught you off guard and distracted you. In those moments Tengen would take you to the floor, huffing.
“I’m going to ban him from our training sessions if you can’t focus.” Tengen said, he straddled you, pressing you into the dirt as you cleared your throat.
“I’m so sorry sir, it won’t happen again.” And at least for the rest of practice that day you kept your eyes on your teacher. But after Tengen was finished with you he ruffled your hair.
“You’re a force to be reckoned with if you keep your eyes off the wind hashira.” He said and you turned bright red, unable to chirp back at him so he laughs heartily and waves as he leaves. You sigh, turning as Sanemi grabs a practice sword. You watch as he swings it around before pointing it towards you.
“Tengen’s a handsy guy. Already has three wives but watch out and you’ll be his fourth.” Sanemi stated dryly. You were exhausted from training and the way Sanemi moved closer to you you wondered if he was wanting to train you a bit himself. Sanemi circles you like a predator. You feel his eyes on every part of your body as you swallow dryly. When he walked back around the front he tossed you the sword and you caught it with ease. He grabbed a sword himself.
“I… am exhausted, Sanemi.” You huffed and he gave you a heated look.
“One round.” He points the tip at you. You swallowed down a sigh and pointed your sword right back at him. You weren’t bad by any means but you weren’t even close to the level of a hashira. Sanemi worked around your blade with practiced ease and you realized right there and then that Tengen was certainly going easy on you because Sanemi had backed you up in seconds and took you to the ground. He pressed himself against you, his sword against your neck. Your eyes glared up at him.
“Alright you won, can I go rest now?”
“Has that lousy sound hashira taught you anything?” Sanemi questions. He was obsessed with this. He saw the look on your face. “Ditch him, I’ll teach you from now on.”
“I’m not doing that. Tengen is a good teacher.” You defended. Sanemi pulled the sword away from your neck and with swiftness pulled you to your feet. He doesn’t let go of your hand though and the closeness to him has your heart beating wildly in your chest.
“I’m better.” He says as though it's a well known fact. You wondered what his motives were and what his grudge was against Tengen.
“What’s this about?” You ask and watch his eyes leave yours as he shamelessly looks at your lips, scanning what he wanted to before meeting your eyes again. This simple act wreaked havoc on your systems.
“I think it’s pretty clear, I want to teach you myself.”
“Why though?”
“Tengen doesn’t deserve to. That’s why.” He pulls you to him suddenly. “Do you understand?” His voice was low and soft, eyes searching. He was trying to tell you something with his eyes. He sighed, you guessed he needed to be more clear with his intentions so he gave a small shake of the head and dipped his head to meet your lips with his. You sucked in a breath as he kissed you hard enough to prove his point. You understood now, albeit a little late.
-
Rengoku’s jealousy is healthy. He trusts you fully but doesn’t trust anyone who would come up and flirt with you when he’s right there. A lot of people come up and talk with you and you're completely oblivious to their flirting so Rengoku will intervene to save you. On your very first date the waiter at the noodle place you two were at flirted with you practically the entire time. Rengoku didn’t get angry, in fact it made him smile that no matter how much flirting was being done you’d still be leaving this restaurant with him. But the moment the waiter stepped over the line and made you clearly uncomfortable Rengoku cleared his throat. He didn’t yell or make a scene, he just simply gave the waiter a fiery glare. The waiter was gone within seconds. You looked at your date, giving him a knowing and thankful smile.
The only time jealousy fully got under his skin was when he came back from a long mission and caught sight of you eating lunch in the courtyard with Giyu. He felt his cheeks burn at the sight. One thing Rengoku loved just slightly less than you was food. And what he loved more about it was eating it next to you. But here you were, eating it next to someone else. Sure it was childish but logic never really came into play when jealousy took over. When you walked back to your shared room and caught sight of his red hair your face completely morphed into light as you sprinted across the room and slammed against him in a bone crushing hug. He’d been gone for at least two months and it was almost unbearable.Rengoku, despite pouting slightly, wrapped you in a hug with the same vigor, breathing in your scent. You two stayed like that for a long moment.
“I missed you. When did you get back?” You asked, muffled against his chest.
“About an hour ago.” You pulled back at that, looking up at him. He wanted to mope but the moment your eyes met his smile so wide fitted to his lips.
“An hour?” You asked. “Why didn’t you come find me?”
“I saw you eating with Giyu, just didn’t want to bother you.” He says and knows he was being silly earlier. But being apart from you for two months had made him weary and heartsick for you.
“You could never bother me. Never.” You doubled down, pulling his face to yours, proving your point with a kiss. He mumbled an apology against your lips before you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled back you slightly smirked up at him. “Was that jealousy?” You asked as his entire face went beet red and you knew you were right. You tilted your head to the side. “Kyojuro…”
“I’m sorry,” He says, tightening his hold around you. “We’ve been apart far too long.”
-
Tengen also hides his jealousy pretty well but hides it behind jokes. You could not stand him when you first met. You were nothing like him. Liked the quiet, liked the dark, liked your solitude. Tengen on the hand liked you. He liked how quiet you were and wanted to diminish the dark for you and snatch away your solitude. You liked your personal space and he also liked your personal space.
You grew up an only child with cold parents in a depressing town so when you met Tengen and he was flashy and warm, naturally you sulked away from him. He tried everything. He bought you your favorite sweets and relished when you’d give him the smallest of smiles that looked more like a grimace but he’d take what he can get. He’d find you books to read and insist that you read it to him in return and when you begrudgingly agreed he’d melt into a puddle and sit as close as humanly possible. And when he’d pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder he really felt as though he could combust.
He’d never chased after someone so hard.
You were so elusive, just out of reach. When you met his wives they all adored you in the same way he did. It scared him though, you weren’t one to put yourself out there. You didn’t like many people and being with Tengen meant you’d be with four people at all times. Though the times that you were around and happened to run into him and his wives you didn’t seem overwhelmed. In fact the first time he saw you actually smile, like eyes crinkling cheeks blushing smile was when Hinatsuru pulled you into a hug and told you how pretty you looked. The only jealousy he felt then and there was not being able to have that smile directed at him. But after seeing that smile he finally realized it was possible to make you smile so let the teasing begin. Suddenly Tengen was around all the time. You didn’t notice it at first but suddenly he was everywhere. Teasing you, overtly flirting with you, towering over you and trying so damn hard to make you blush and smile the way his wife did.
It was exhausting for you. All this attention. What was even more exhausting is pretending that you didn’t want Tengen. There was a war within you. Wanting to be alone and wishing to never be alone again. Tengen and his life was the polar opposite of yours. Everything you couldn’t stand but found wanting to tolerate, wanting that shine in your darkness. Things all came to a head when you were at a fork in the road. Tagging along Tengen’s mission versus Giyu’s. To you it was an obvious choice. Tagging along with Giyu meant not really having to talk the entire time. And when you told Tengen things spiraled.
“So you got a thing for the quiet ones? Should’ve known.” He teased with this sort of practiced ease. He looked wholly unaffected by your decision.
“I don’t have a thing for anyone.” You corrected, you had been cleaning your katana when he found his way into your room somehow without your objections. Maybe it was all the time that you were spending with him things were just slowly becoming comfortable?
“You’re breaking my heart, sunshine.” If looks could kill Tengen would be long long dead. It wasn’t the first time he called you that nickname and it certainly would not be the last. Unfortunately.
“I’m very busy, you know.”
“Busy thinking of your mission with the stoic Giyu?” He teased and you breathed in and let out a huff of air.
“You are relentless. Is there something you want to say?” You ask over your shoulder. He’s uncharacteristically quiet behind you so you turn just slightly. Tengen is looking at you in the same way he’d been looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Tengen looked at you as though the light only shined on earth because you held the sun in place. You looked away and begrudgingly ignored that flip in your chest.
“You like him better than me.” And… he’s back to teasing. Well two can play that game.
“Yes I do.” You answered bluntly.
“Now you’re really killing me, Sun-”
“Nope. No nicknames. I’m not a pet.” He laughed at that, a warm laugh that you didn’t know how badly you wanted to hear again.
“I bet he isn’t able to get under your skin like I do.”
“You’re right.” You said and heard Tengen stand from where he was sitting. You go slightly rigid as you feel him walk closer to where you’re standing. He barely brushes against you as he looks over your shoulder. You try to continue to work like this was unaffecting you but your walls were slowly crumbling around you. There was only so long you could pretend you didn’t want a good thing. And Tengen was sure as hell a good thing.
“Giyu’s quiet. You won’t have an ounce of fun on his mission.”
“Killing demon’s isn’t supposed to be fun.” You throw back and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he responds.
“It is with me.” You roll your eyes and turn to tell him to get lost but when you turn and look up your faces are millimeters apart. Maybe even less. Your words falter and for a moment all you can think of is if you moved just barely forwards your lips would meet his. “Cat got your tongue?” He said huskily just loud enough for you to hear. It turns your insides out, burning you up from head to toe. You wanted to ask what he really wanted but it would ultimately be a stupid question. Tengen had never hidden his intentions from the start. Only you had. He pointedly moved his eyes to your lips but didn’t move any closer. You knew then and there he was practically handing over the reigns. If you wanted him you’d have to make the next move. You had a penchant for letting things pass you by. It was like you were begrudgingly obsessed with not letting yourself have anything. Love never seemed like something attainable. Friendship seemed like a lot of work and family never felt like family. “I’ll wait forever, if that’s what you want.” He whispered, interrupting your thoughts. Your heart hurts at that. You weren’t being fair. Making him wait forever was a selfish thing to do and even with all those things he still looked one hundred percent serious when he said it. He wouldn’t get tired of you. He could be the one to stick around for good. He could be the good.
“I”m still going with Giyu. I already promised.” You said.
“Break the promise, Sunshine, I’m practically begging.” As his face slightly dropped you leaned forwards and closed that gap that you had gotten far too comfortable with. Lips sliding against lips.
-
Hotaru was downright scary when he was jealous. Holy shit you were scared out of your mind. Your destroyed blade laid in pieces in front of you. Your heart was in your throat. You felt a hand on your shoulder as Rengoku gave you a reassuring squeeze.
“Tough break, kid.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“The last time I broke my blade he yelled and ranted for three hours and passed out from lightheadedness.” You said, remembering the whole ordeal with a shiver. Rengoku shook his head.
“Your blade broke for a noble cause, make sure to tell him that.” He said, giving you one last squeeze before turning to leave. You bent over and grabbed the shattered remains. You were dead. Dead dead dead. You had so much life to live. You had sweets in the fridge that Mitsuri made for you. You had finally learned a few new cool tricks to use in fighting. You were visiting home next month. You sighed, gathering up the broken pieces in a cloth.
“I will pay you double… no triple the usual amount, please I beg you.” You had your hands clasped together in front of you as though silent praying. The night before last you had an idea. There was more than just Hotaru that could make you a blade in the village so if you enlisted someone else to make you a sword just this one time Hotaru wouldn’t lob your head off your shoulders.
“Mr. Haganezuka would kill me, bring me back to life then kill me again if I made a sword for you.” The villager trembled at the mere thought. He was clearly just as afraid of Hotaru as you were. You swallowed dryly.
“He would never know, please I beg you.I’ll give you any amount.” You begged but the villager just shook his head.
“He would know because it’s you. Any other client I might do it but you… absolutely not. You’re his favorite!” He said, looking over your shoulder as though Hotaru would enter his shop at any second.
“What does that mean! The only people that would know would be me and you! Please I will literally do anything!”
“And me.” A voice behind you says. Your blood goes cold. Slowly you turn around and sure enough there’s Hotaru. You’re caught like a deer in headlights. The villager actually screams and scrambles away, startling you. Hotaru’s expressions are hidden behind his mask so you’re not sure whether or not he’s angry quite yet. You’d seen his face once a few years ago when this peaceful village was attacked. You were surprised in the moment that someone so intense could look so beautiful. That didn’t dull that fact he was scary though.
“Mr. Haganezuka! W-what a surprise!” You choke out, cheeks going fuchsia. “Lovely weather we’re having today isn’t it?” You squeak out. Hotaru slightly moves his head and you force yourself not to bolt out the door screaming like the villager. You’re a hashira for god sakes! But to be completely truthful, Hotaru was scarier than any demon you’d ever faced.
“Very lovely. What brings to our village?” He asks, his voice scarily calm. You force yourself to give a terse smile.
“I- I came to relax of course!”
“Relax at my competitor's shop?” He asks and there is a sharp edge to his voice.
“Competitor? Wha? I didn’t-- I did not know you two were competing!” You nervously laughed it off, running a quick hand through your hair. “We-- we go way back. I was just visiting for a second before hitting the hot springs!” You say and start to walk towards the door but Hotaru’s hand juts out, blocking you from leaving. You freeze, you’re so close to him, he towers over you and when he turns to look down at you you feel weak in the knees. Slowly he brings his hand up, untying the back of his mask as it falls into his waiting hand and you’re met face to face with Hotaru once again. The years had passed but he still looked as beautiful as ever. You definitely make a sound, a strangled gasp, though if it was from fear or surprise no one would ever know.
“You… two… go way back?” He grits out. God… you’d done it now. You should’ve just went to him in the first place, accepted his scolding and went about your week. But here you were, ten feet under and you weren’t even sure after this debacle if he’d fix your sword for any amount of money. You cleared your throat.
“Uhm… y-yes?”
“Yes?” He repeated and the look on his face was as sharp as the sharpest katana. You were so dead. Goodbye family. Goodbye sweet treats.
“How… far back?” He asks. You stare at him. How far back? He caught you in the lie and you wished instead of twenty questions he’d just yell at you.
“Just like… a year.” You lied, Hotaru’s eyes narrowed on yours. The intense eye contact was insane. You almost forgot to breathe.
“You’ve known me longer than.” He articulates sharply. Your lips part, you're stumped for a moment.
“Uh… y-yes, sir, I have.” You stumble.
“Yet instead of coming to me, who you’ve known far longer, you go to my competitor to fix the sword that I made you.” Ah fuck. The color absolutely drained from your face.
“What?” You shook your head. “N-nuh uh! I-- I was just visiting like I said.” At the end of your sentence he holds up the cloth that had the broken pieces of your sword. You patted your bag and gasped. How the hell did he get that! “It-- that-- It’s not what it looks like, Mr. Hagenzuka! I-- well you see it broke… honorably of course… and I was coming to you-” Hotaru raised his hand to silence you and you instantly stopped talking. This was it. This was the end. Killed by your swordsmith. If you were quick you could probably wrestle back a piece of your katana and end your life before he could.
“If you ever break your sword again,” Hotaru practically growled.”And go to my competitor, I will-”
“Kill me?” You filled in.
“Kill him.” He fumed and then he reached for you. God he was gonna choke you out! His hand slid against your cheek and when he leaned in you sent out a final goodbye.
His lips met yours. His lips. Pressed against your lips. He was kissing you. Kissing? You? Your eyes were wide open. You had watched the whole thing in slow motion. Sure enough the moment heated as he stepped a bit closer to you, hand sliding around your hip to yank you a step closer to him. The most startling thing? The heat that suddenly ignited in your gut at the press of his mouth on yours. You made a startled sound in the back of your throat at the strange realization. What the hell was happening? When he pulled back your eyes were still open. Looking up at him as though he’d just smacked you right across the face.
“You… just kissed me.” You say. He doesn’t answer you with words, just nods his head, still looking pissed. “On the lips.”
“Yes.” He says sharply.
“Like lips on my lips.”
“I’m aware of what I did.” Hotaru groans, looking down at you.
“Am I dead?” You asked, patting yourself for any life threatening wounds, Hotaru watches you, looking unamused.
“No. You are not dead.”
“I… was dead sure you… were going to murder me. Like… bloody murder.”
“Why in the world would I murder you?” Hotaru asks, crossing his arms.
“B-because you… because I broke my sword and schemed to fix it behind your back with your competitor.” You say slowly as though he doesn’t remember the last ten minutes. But he just looks down at you like you’re saying something incredibly apparent.
“Yes. I know.” He growls but his anger doesn’t necessarily seem directed at you as he sighs heavily.
“I am… very… confused.” You force out. Your brain felt melted in your head. Hotaru looks down at you and for a moment so quick you could’ve missed it his eyes look… soft? No… that had to be a trick of the lights.
“You’re my client. No one else’s. Got it?” He punctuates seriously. You nod your head quickly. What the hell just happened?
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impetus
summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?
pairing: dean winchester x female reader
word count: 9.4k+
warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes
“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.
You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.
“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.
“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”
“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.
“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”
“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”
“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.
You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.
“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”
“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”
You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.
“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.
Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.
“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.
“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.
“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.
“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”
“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”
“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.
The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.
“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”
You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”
“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.
The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.
“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”
“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”
He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”
“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.
You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.
“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.
“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.
“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.
You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.
A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.
“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.
Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.
Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“
“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.
Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.
“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”
“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.
“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.
“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”
Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.
Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.
By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”
Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.
“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”
“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.
She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”
“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.
Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.
“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”
Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.
The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.
Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.
“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.
“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.
“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”
After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.
“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.
“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”
Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”
“What?” Dean asked gruffly.
“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”
“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”
Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”
“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.
“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.
“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.
Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.
“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.
“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.
You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.
“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.
“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”
“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.
“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”
Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.
“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.
“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.
“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.
He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.
The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.
Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”
“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.
“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”
Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”
He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.
“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.
By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.
“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.
“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.
“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.
“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.
“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.
Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”
“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.
“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.
“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.
“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.
Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”
You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”
“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.
“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”
Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”
Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.
“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”
You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.
“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.
“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.
You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.
He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.
Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.
As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.
“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.
“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.
“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.
Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”
Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.
Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.
“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.
The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.
“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”
Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”
“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.
“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”
“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.
“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”
“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”
“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.
“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”
“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.
“What, why?” you asked in confusion.
“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”
“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.
“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.
You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”
The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”
By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.
“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.
You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.
Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.
Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.
“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.
Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.
He couldn’t reach you.
He couldn’t save you.
The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.
As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.
The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.
“Dean.”
The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.
“Dean.”
He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.
“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.
A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.
“God dammit, Dean!”
Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.
“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.
His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.
“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”
“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”
“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.
“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.
“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.
Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.
“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”
Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.
Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.
Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.
His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.
Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.
Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.
“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.
“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.
“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.
With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.
He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.
Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.
“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”
“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”
“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.
While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”
“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”
“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.
“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.
“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”
“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.
“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.
The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.
“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.
“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.
Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”
“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.
“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”
“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”
“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”
“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”
“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.
“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.
“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.
Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”
“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”
“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”
“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”
Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”
“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”
“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”
“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”
“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”
“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”
“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.
“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”
“Sam-”
“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”
“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.
After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”
“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”
“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.
“Dean,” Sam chastised.
“What?”
“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”
Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.
“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.
“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”
“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”
“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.
“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”
Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.
Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.
“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.
“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.
“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”
“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”
“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.
“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.
“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.
“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.
“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.
“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”
His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.
“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.
“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.
“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.
“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.
“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”
“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”
Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.
“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.
“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.
Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”
“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?”
“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.
“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.
“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.
Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.
“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.
You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.
He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.
At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.
It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.
Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”
While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.
“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”
His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”
“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”
He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”
You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.
Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”
The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.
“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.
You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.
“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.
“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.
“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.
“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”
“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.
“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”
He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”
“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.
He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”
“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.
“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.
“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?�� you asked hesitantly.
He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”
“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.
“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”
“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.
“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”
He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.
He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”
“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”
“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”
“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”
“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.
“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.
“It’s not gonna kill me!”
“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”
He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”
“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”
He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”
You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.
“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”
Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”
“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”
“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”
“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”
“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”
“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”
“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“You know what,” you scolded.
“This is so fucking ridiculous.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.
“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”
Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.
“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”
Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.
“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”
“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.
“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.
He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”
He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”
“I do,” you agreed quietly.
“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”
He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”
“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”
“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.
“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”
“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.
“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.
“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.
“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”
“Right,” you agreed.
“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.
“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”
“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”
“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.
Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”
“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.
“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”
“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.
“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”
“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.
“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”
You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.
“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”
“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.
“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”
“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”
“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”
“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.
“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.
“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.
“Okay,” he said with a huff.
“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.
Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.
You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.
“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.
“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”
“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.
“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.
“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”
“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”
“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.
“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”
“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”
You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”
He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”
“Always,” you said honestly.
“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.
He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.
“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.
“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.
He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.
When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.
The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.
The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.
He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.
Maybe witches aren’t so bad.
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