Tough Love ✔️

Familial Ties and The Unbreakable Love of Dean Winchester

"What took you so long?" you heard Dean yell from the kitchen when you burst through the door with all the bags of shopping in both hands.

"Ran into Him," you gritted out, regretting not doing two trips.

A scuffle of feet into the room and a chaste kiss on the kips later, Dean took a hold of a bunch of bags.

"Him?" he repeated. "Ex-boyfriend kind of him? I have more than a shotgun in the trunk if he's trouble, y'know."

You shook your head, leading into the kitchen. "No. Divine Him. Man Upstairs. Creator of universe. God."

Dean stopped. "What did He look like?"

You paused, giving him a side glance as you began to restock the pantry. "Really?" you laughed. "I get ambushed by God Himself and you want his appearance?"

There was silence from his side. But nonetheless you described what the guy who was waiting for you looked like. You slipped past the part of your griping - nobody likes a whiner, no matter the tragedy - but accidentally managed to keep a bump in the tale, a loophole.

"Your family," Dean said, cracking the lid of a beer from the fridge. "You skipped that bit. I haven't heard much about them."

You looked to the roof, trying to contain the emotions about the cut strings of the familial ties you had seen severed.

"They're dead. All of them."

You went to slip past Dean into the lounge room to desensitise yourself to the world of soap operas and faux death much like what happened in real life sans the incredulity, but your hand was caught in Dean's.

"You can talk about it, you know. I'm here."

You smiled, and looked away. "It's not a big deal, really. Just more dead people. Everyone has dead people they miss, you of all people should know, Dean."

His mother Mary. His father John. Ellen. Jo. Ash. All the people they couldn't save in time.

"I know," he whispered, pulling your hand back to hold it to his chest. "I know the goddam pain. I know how it kills you." With the hand that held the beer, you felt him gather you to rest your face onto his chest, and that was when you broke.

It had only taken a lifetime.

"Rugaru," you whispered, feeling the tears come on like a weather forecaster before the storm. "A goddamned Rugaru. He used to be a family friend, and we were at a barbecue, and it was fine until someone - I can't remember, a cousin? Well, he tripped and split his leg. And the Rugaru transformed...and killed everyone."

Tears.

All over Dean's V-neck. Proof you weren't as hardcore a hunter as you'd thought.

"It's okay," he hummed, but you continued to sob.

"He just began to eat, and I watched from the patio. Just watched as my family screamed for mercy, the pavers turning red in seconds." You began to breathe fast then; too fast. "Someone said it had been my time to light the barbecue that day, and I was only nine - the Rugaru was almost onto me, and I had a lighter and -," you stopped to breathe, feeling Dean's hand on your hair. Smoothing it. His voice, cooing to you. "You know how like in the comics or movies, when things explode? How the hero makes gas turn into flames?"

Dean nodded, you could tell.

"The Rugaru had shredded the barbecue and the gas bottle, open and leaking. I could smell it...and like I'd learned, I flicked the Bic to fire and..."

Dean's hand didn't stop stroking your (h/l) (h/c) hair. "And you managed to miraculously survive the horrific event by a stroke of luck," he whispered. It was then you realised his voice had broken with tears.

You were both hot messes.

"They said it was a gas leak and it was but they'd never seen -," you shuddered. "God is real, Dean. I talked to him today. And he made what happened happen. He got me into this godforsaken business."

"But he also got you to me," Dean breathed into your (h/c) hair. "You remember that nest of fangs?"

You nodded. "And sleeping in the Impala."

"You're the best person that I've ever met," he stroked your hair, and added, "I'd be dead without you."

"I love you Dean Winchester," you hiccuped into his chest, "you're all the family I need."

"I love you too, ______ ______."

You heard floorboards creaking in the next room and sharply withdrew from Dean's front. You weren't expecting Sam or anyone. And Castiel always conveniently appeared two inches from yours and Dean's faces.

Slipping your hand behind the cans section of the pantry, you took two angel blades, tossing one to your boyfriend the hunter.

"Don't stab, don't stab!" a voice you recognised cried. And in unison, you both yelled,

"Chuck?"

"God!"