Summary: Death can be hard to deal with in any aspect, but when you’re in the hunter's life, it’s something you deal with all to often, and carry with you until it’s your turn to burn.
Warnings: Angst, Drinking, mentions of OC character death, swearing, hints of depression. I think that’s it.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 23879Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡowdY6qG2g0
9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHgS6HzKeSf
The hunt was bad, very bad. You had lost a friend, another piece to the puzzle of your heart now gone permanently from you, leaving a new hole to form a hard callous over. You wondered ideally as you pulled your duffle off your shoulder, and dropped it onto your bed if you would ever get used to losing people, or would ever one hurt as bad as the first time?
You knew hunting was hard when you’d gotten into it, but how could you live in a world that monster existed in, and not try and fight back? To you that would have been just like rolling over and giving up.
When that Werewolf back in your hometown had killed your parents, you had readily joined the Winchesters. Much to Dean’s dismay, he would have rather you go on to try and live a normal life, but how were you supposed to do that after what had happened to you? Nothing had ever been fixed by anyone burying your head in the sand, and pretending that it didn’t exist in hopes it would all go away.
You had been with the boys since John had died. So it was safe to say that you had been with them long enough to know that no matter how much you were hurting right now Dean was hurting that much worse.
He didn’t know Ben very well, but he carried the same name as Lisa’s son. That alone had opened up some bad memories for Dean anyway. Tonight though, as you watched your friend’s body burn, you could see it in Dean’s eyes, regret.
He didn’t open up very often to anyone. Dean had walls that would have made the architects of Jericho jealous. Marching around those bad boys for seven days wouldn’t have done shit, because you had been marching around them for years and to no avail.
You had always carried a torch for the elder Winchester. Even though you weren’t dumb enough to tell him that. If Dean thought anyone was getting too close to him he’d push them away as a way of “keeping them safe,” because he believed that he had some target painted on his ass that would doom anyone he cared about.
The two of you had somewhat of a “friends with benefits” arrangement that worked out well for the life that you lived, and you were determined that if that part of him was all you could have, then that would be enough.
Dean had two settings after a rough hunt, he’d either be in here tearing your clothes off, and using you as a way to erase some of the pain he felt for just a little while, or he’d shut down completely for days and not let anyone in. Looks like tonight was going to be the latter.
You rummage around in your special stash of whiskey that you keep for special occasions, and a couple of tumblers before heading to Dean’s room. If Dean wanted to shut down and block everyone out then you knew the only way to stop it was to force your way in, well as far as you could anyway, and try to pull it out of him.
Dean was the kind of guy that carried things with him. He never let it go. Never. He held onto things better than a nun with a grudge. He carried every loss, every mistake, every failure, and he would take it to his grave. You attributed that to John Winchester’s A+ parenting.
Dean was always to be the perfect son and in turn the perfect soldier. Even though you know Dean as an adult now realized that John was nothing but a narcissistic, abusive asshole, he was his dad, and it still hurt, and he still carried the way he raised him.
You didn’t bother knocking on the door of Dean’s room. It was cracked away. So you just pushed it open, and Dean barely even turned to look at you from his position on the bed with his headphones in place. You could faintly hear the classic rock music blaring through them. Probably hoping it would be loud enough to drown out whatever voices in his head that was screaming at him tonight.
He pulled the headphones off with a sigh, and set them on his nightstand next to his bed, giving you a weak smile as he shoved over to give you a sitting room, and taking one of the tumblers and the whiskey from your hand.
“Spill Winchester?” you said, flopping down next to him dramatically, trying to keep this conversation as light as possible so that Dean wouldn’t just shut down, and stop talking. If you could even get him to start that is.
Dean let out a long exasperated sigh as he poured a healthy three fingers into each glass.
“Just… I don’t know. I guess I’m just tired tonight, sweetheart. I’ll be fine in the morning.” Dean said, taking a generous drink from his glass. You stared at him with narrow eyes until he snorted a sarcastic laugh, and shook his head. “Okay, so you didn’t buy that then.”
“How long have we known each other, De? I think I can tell when you’re bullshitting me by now,” you state matter of factly, watching him closely as you take a sip of your drink.
Dean licked his lips before pulling his plump bottom lip between his perfect white teeth, eyes a thousand miles away from this room.
“I guess I’m just tired of losing people, Y/N/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there fast enough to save Ben. I’m sorry you had to burn your friend’s body tonight.”
You watched him closely, knowing full well that wasn’t even a scratch on the surface of what was really going on with Dean. You had known him too long. You decided to play along anyway, and see if you could get him to open up to you a little.
“Dean, it’s part of the job. Ben knew the risk, and it didn’t matter how fast we got there it was too late. He drew the short straw. It could have easily been any one of us. At least now Ben can rest, at least now he doesn’t have to fight anymore.”
You hoped you sounded convincing because right now you weren’t even sure about how much rest people got in death. You had killed enough ghosts and fought enough Demons to know that you didn’t always get a white robe, and a beach house on the shores of paradise when you died.
Dean nodded his head, and took a long drink from his glass, polishing it off, and refilling it before settling into his pillow that was propped against his headboard. His eyes looked distant and dark, and you knew that even if you got him to open up just a little tonight, it would scratch the surface of horrors Dean had seen in his life.
“I have lost so many people. Friends, family, other hunters that died way before their time like Ben. He would have been pretty close to Ben’s age by now, he may have been only a few years older than the Ben I knew.”
Dean’s eyes shifted over to you carefully. You sat quietly and just waited for him to continue. Determined not to push him in any way.
“I will not regret exposing them to this life, even if Cas did erase their memories,” Dean said, shaking his head, and playing with the string on his sweatpants.
“You mean because you still love Lisa?” you asked, mentally slapping yourself before for not keeping your mouth shut, and asking him something so personal. Dean chuckled at the shocked look on your face, knowing damn well you didn’t mean to say that.
“No, I never loved Lisa. She was… Comfort when I needed the distraction after Sam went to the cage. Then, when I found out Sam was back, she was a burden. She never supported me. No matter what I never fit into her perfect little Stepford husband, picture-perfect family.
You must have had a shocked look on your face because Dean chuckled again into his glass before he refilled yours. “Don’t look so shook, sweetheart.”
“Sorry,” you mumbled, looking down at the brown liquor in your glass, and avoiding Dean’s watchful gaze.
“I guess, I just always thought that you loved her because you told Sam to never bring her up again.”
Dean nodded his head thoughtfully. “That was regret talking. I felt like shit because I felt like I ruined their lives. When I should have just left them alone. If I would have just left them alone, then Lisa wouldn’t have gotten possessed, and almost died, and Bed would have maybe had a real dad.”
You thought about that in silence for a long time before taking a sip of your drink again. Letting it burn all the way down to your toes, warming you, pushing the cold you felt inside away for just a little while.
“I guess I haven’t really ‘loved’ anyone, since Cassie,” Dean said. Now that a crack in the dam had formed, it all seemed to be waiting to flood out, and you were more than willing to listen.
“I told her things about me no one else knew. I trusted her, and she ripped my heart out. Not once, but twice. After that, I’ve never really been able to let go again. Never really could trust another woman. I wouldn’t let myself get close to anyone. Well, anyone except you.” Dean said, giving her a half-hearted smile before turning his attention back to his spot he’d been staring at on the wall.
“I carry so much regret. Things I could have changed but wasn’t good enough or fast enough to change. Joe and Ellen died because of me. Ash died because of me. Bobby died trying to save me. I left Jack alone with mom knowing that he was unstable, so that’s on me too. Kevin is somewhere staggering around a ghost that I will probably have to hunt and salt and burn one day. That’s because of me. I let myself get close to one woman, and she fucked me up so bad that I can’t get past it, and that’s because of me.”
Dean let out a dry laugh before his eyes turned to meet yours. “I can’t look back on one damn thing I’ve done in my life that I can say I’m proud of. Except for maybe the fact that Sammy turned out okay. Other than that I was never good enough, and I never will be.”
If your heart could have stopped beating, and you still be breathing, at that moment you were almost sure that’s what had happened. The truth in his little declaration, or at least the truth as he saw it, was enough to break your heart into an unfixable, shattered mess.
If only he could see what you saw. Someone who was smart, handsome, funny, charismatic, talented, strong, a hero. One who had endured more hurt and heartache than any one person should ever have to in their life. Someone who was constantly cut down, and underrated. Someone who deserved so much better than what this life had given him. Someone who deserved love, whether he believed it or not.
In a momentarily fit of bravery, you reached across the empty space in between you, and grabbed his hand in your own. Dean looked down and smiled a little, lacing his fingers with yours before bringing the back of your hand up to his lips, brushing a quick peck across your skin.
“Dean, you can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong, John was an asshole, Cassie was a bitch, Lisa was an unsupportive moron who didn’t realize what she had, Jo? Well, Jo died a hero, just like she always wanted. Ash and everyone else knew the dangers of this life, just like Ben did, and you can’t carry all that with you all the time. Dean, you’ve saved so many people. The good outways the bad, trust me.”
Dean’s eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned in and closed the distance between you, brushing his lips lightly over your own before kissing you slowly. It was a tender thing, one that was laced with fear, and hurt, and regret, something that Dean would always live with no matter what you say to him.
This life comes with some form of regret to everyone, but no one should have to shoulder it all alone. If he’d ever just let you, you’d gladly help to shoulder some of his burdens, but tonight was not the night to talk about that.
Tonight, tonight Dean just needed you to be close to him. So that’s what you intended to do.
When Dean finally broke the kiss he leaned his forehead against your own, taking a deep breath before pulling the covers back, offering her a spot next to him. “Stay with me tonight baby girl?” he said in more of a plea than a question. You smiled and nodded, making yourself comfortable in his arms as his lips brushed over your own again after he flipped the lights off on the old lamp sitting on his bedside table.
Dean didn’t know how to tell you yet, but you made him feel things he never thought he’d feel again. Having you this close to him right now, made his heart feel like it could beat a little easier. He could feel himself falling for you as you fell asleep in his arms. He wouldn’t tell you though, not right now. He did vow that it would be soon because tomorrow wasn’t promised, and he was determined that this time, this time he could finally have that thing he was missing the most in the shitstorm of regret, hurt, and scars, and that was you. The piece that had been missing all along. He may have lived his whole life with regret, but that didn’t mean he had to die in it, and whether you knew it or not, you gave him something he never thought he’d have again… Hope.
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