Summary: Some things are worth fighting for, even when they think they’re not. You can either roll over and die, or you can pick yourself up off the ground and go get what you want. That’s the place Y/N now finds herself in.
Warnings: Angst, so much angst, heartbreak, breakup, language.
Word Count: 1335
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Prompt: 15: The red tail lights were the last thing she saw.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMdu6U5NrZS
The red tail lights were the last thing she saw. Still, Dean saw a much worse view. The view of her tear-streaked face cast with an almost eerie red glow as he pulled out of the mud slick driveway, and onto the main road. He watched the rearview mirror until he couldn’t see her anymore.
His dad had always taught him never to show emotions. “Real men don’t cry,” he’d said. It took everything in Dean to hold the burning wave of tears back as he refocused his eyes on the road, leaving yet another piece of his heart behind.
Sam watched his brother closely. He could see the strain in his neck and shoulders and he kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and a death glare on the road. Dean could feel Sam’s eyes on him, even though Sam dared not say anything to his older brother.
That was the longest drive to the bunker he’d ever made in his life, and fighting the inevitable breakdown was getting harder and harder with each passing mile. All he could see was her. That hurt looks on her face. Her heart, breaking into pieces. He’d done that. He’d caused her more pain. He didn’t want to cause her any more pain. That’s why he fucking told her they couldn’t keep doing this. That’s why he told her that it was over.
“It’s for the best, she’s safe now,” he told himself over and over again, but it was getting harder and harder to convince himself of that right now.
With each step, he took into the grave-like silence that filled the bunker his chest felt heavier. He got as far as the map table before the first tear slipped down his face. He refused to acknowledge the weakness, and when Sam’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, he jerked away hard, murmuring something about getting some sleep.
Sam wanted to help him, that’s all, but there was no fixing this. There was no putting Dean back together this time. He didn’t really let himself cry in earnest until he was safely locked in his room, with an open bottle of Tennessee’s finest.
This was it, his curse. Some cruel joke Chuck had slapped on him his whole life. Loneliness. He tried to drown it in alcohol, and when he was younger he tried to drown it in young women. It never filled the void the way Y/N did, it never will.
Dean pulled out his phone and started looking through the photos of the two of you over the last six months, and damn if that didn’t rip yet another fresh whole in his chest.
Her smile was his everything. It was his reason for getting up in the morning, and the only reason he’d kept going this long, and not given up and taken the easy way out. She loved him, really loved him. She’d woken a part of him up that he never knew could exist inside the fucked up, broken shell of the former man he once was.
Now… Well, now that man was dying, and fuck if that didn’t hurt worse than anything he’d ever lost in his life.
Over two hours south of where Dean was now, Y/N sat in the driveway with the rain beating down on her already soaked clothes as if it could wash away the crippling heartbreak she felt right now.
The mud she was kneeling in from where she hit her knees the moment those horrible red taillights were no longer in sight. She’d been there for almost two hours. She couldn’t cry anymore. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t even think clearly for nearly two hours. She just knelt there in misery.
If he would have been man enough to just pull his gun and shoot her in the head it would have been more merciful than what he’d just done to her. It would have been quick, painless even. But no, he decided to leave her a half-dead shell of a human, kneeling in the pouring rain, unable to even pick herself up from where he’d left her standing.
“It’s better this way sweetheart,” he’d said. “You’re safer without me. I’m poison baby, you don’t deserve to follow me down this road that’s only going to end up in more hurt and heartache. You don’t deserve that.”
Well, fuck if he wasn’t wrong. She would have taken death for him, and taken it gladly. Torture couldn’t put a dent in what she was feeling right now. She feared no monster, no demon, she could and had faced all those things, and came back stronger. This was different. This was inescapable. This was going to kill her.
“No,” she finally said, grabbing the tale gate of her old Nissan V6 that she’d been kneeling by and using it to force herself to stand.
She knew Dean was hell-bent on “keeping her safe,” but dammit she’d been keeping herself safe for the last 15 years she’d been a hunter. So what gave him the right to make the decision that he wasn’t worth whatever pain was to come?
Once she was inside the house, she quickly changed her clothes into something dry and dialed Sam’s number. She knew Sam almost as well as she knew Dean, and she knew he thought his brother deserved to be happy. He was happy with her. Sam had told her so, and Sam wouldn’t lie about that.
She’d just slammed the door to the old truck, and pressed the clutch to the floor, starting the engine with a roar as she tried to force the old truck in reverse quicker than what it really liked when Sam answered the phone.
“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked as you pulled onto the blacktop, shifting gears as you gained speed, heading for the bunker as fast as the old truck could go.
“I’m fine, how’s Dean?” she asked, her chest tight with panic. She knew him, her Dean, and if she was in this bad of shape, then she could only imagine what he was going through.
“Not good,” Sam answered simply. That was it, all she needed to hear.
“I’m on my way Sam, he’s not going to get rid of me that easily.”
Sam let out a huff of breath that you could tell was the first real one he’d taken all night long.
“Thank God,” he breathed as she hung up the phone, that old truck roaring in the background as she sped their way as fast as it could carry her.
He knew his brother was hurting more than he’d ever seen him hurt. He’d been sitting in the half or almost an hour listening to him cry himself to sleep. Something he’d rarely ever heard him do. Maybe only once, and that was when Mary had been taken away from him the second time. He needed Y/N, and she needed him.
Thankfully she seemed stubborn enough to keep him from destroying the only good thing he’d ever had. So he pulled himself up from the floor and cracked the door open to see Dean on his stomach with an empty whiskey bottle in his hand, and his mouth slack with sleep. He slipped inside, and removed his boats, and put them down beside the bed, pulling the covers over him knowing Y/N would take care of the rest when she got here.
This life wasn’t easy, and Dean didn’t need to make it harder on himself when there was finally someone that was willing to fight for him the way he deserves, and Y/N was just that person.
“Hang in there Dean. She’s almost home,” he said as he tucked the covers around his brother’s sleeping form and went to wait in the library for what he was convinced would be his big brother’s saving grace.
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