Tough Love ✔️

...My Wayward Son

You spent the next week in the hospital being frowned on by doctors, interrogated by the local police department - "how do you just slip and fall in the woods and get...cut up everywhere?", said a suspicious deputy - but luckily the boys were there to back you up, especially Dean.

Since the kiss, he had partially dropped the facade of being stronger than he was and you had opened up to him. Sam had come into the scene after the kiss, and understood what was going on.

It was nice having someone there.

And along came the day to check out of the hospital, and you weren't in those cut up and soiled clothes you were admitted in; you wore a spare flannel Sam had and a pair of sweatpants of Dean's that you swam in. The nurses didn't pay mind as you walked out, and as soon as you made it out of the building you turned to Dean, the Impala parked on the verge nearby.

"I'm so sorry I ruined your hunt," you kept your face down, ashamed of being the reason they couldn't have gotten it done.

Sam gave a snort. "Ruined? No, that hunt, it's done, ______."

You turned to Dean, curious, unsure of what was going on. "Is this true?"

He nodded. "Those demons who got you - they had a habit of stealing women and ... doing things to them." You kept your gaze on Dean, trying to see if he was telling the truth. "Turns out, we got them."

"Two birds, one stone," Sam agrees, awfully sage-like.

You just nod; they hadn't thought to tell you this, but you wouldn't get angry, no. Sam and Dean were going to drive back to Bobby's house and you needed to keep your 'cool'.

"So, you're not mad?" Dean asked.

You shrug. "Maybe later, I don't know. It'll come back and bite you."

You and the boys got into car, relaxing into the gorgeous backseat, glad it wasn't another uncomfortable hospital bed. The engine roared to life and like the blacktop under the wheels, time sped by.

Your eyes drooped, and you fell asleep.

"You will never have happiness with the eldest Winchester," a voice spoke to you, a masculine voice. You turned around trying to find where the person was, but found that you were alone in a house with a scorched ceiling above your head. "He is fated for a life without you. He will move on."

"Who are you?" you questioned, looking about the scene. "Just why - why is this happening?"

You heard a sigh and saw a man, with a scruffy beard walk into the room, wearing a rug-like poncho and an unsure smile on his face.

"I have other plans for you."

You frowned. "God? Really? I'm dreaming - after all you did to my family, all those other people," you paused, averting your eyes from the man before you, "I hope to yourself your plans don't kill everyone I love."

He shook his head. "Dean's going to hell, _____, and you need to move on. The apocalypse is coming. Sit tight."

You shook your head, yeah right, you thought, no reason to believe a dream.

"So don't do anything stupid." he concluded.

"I thought you planned everything," you retorted, and turned to walk away. But you fell, into a large hole that you hadn't seen and the air whooshed past you face like on a roller coaster without seat belts and you felt the floor coming faster than you could possibly imagine, you were about to hit it, and

"Wake up, _______, we're at Bobby's," you tentatively opened your eyes to see Dean before you, smile wide on his face. "C'mon, time to face the music."

You groaned, stretching. "Whoa, I just slept the whole way, didn't I?"

Dean nodded. "Dream of anything, sweetheart?"

You hesitated. "Not sure," you reply, "it's all blurry in my memory now."