lovesick ➳ destiel oneshots

mem•o•ries

description: based on 12x11, when Dean loses his memory. A short, cute one! But don't worry, others are on their way, soon! 

hint: seven more. oh yeah lovelies you know what's up

words: 2,157

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Dean doesn't remember crushing on the trench-coated angel, but he did.

It was all a blur to him. Each memory slowly faded away, until Sam reminded him that they had an angel as a best friend. He was so surprised by that statement and wouldn't stop talking about him. The whole angel info and angel mojo was such a brand new thing to him, that he wanted to look and research more. He asked Sam millions of questions and his younger brother would simply reply with a few words.

"Ooh, what does he look like? Is he like seven feet tall and like a guardian angel?" Dean chuckled, he pat Sam's arm with the back of his hand. "No, no, no. He's like that one angel guy... God, what's his name? He's based off of that detective-"

"Constantine?" Sam rolled his eyes for approximately the forty-seventh time.

Dean snapped his fingers, the slight memory of him watching the show coming back to him. "Yes! Great job. Constantine. I bet he looks like him, but tougher." Dean chuckled.

Sam rolled his eyes as they continued trekking through the dark woods. He got annoyed with the whole witching situation, and how Dean got hexed by some random witch. Dean claimed he had no idea what had happened, and that everything that had happened that night was a whirr of white. Dean had tried to convince him he'll be fine, but trying to name different objects was difficult, even naming all the members of Bon Jovi circa 1983 was extremely hard. He couldn't even remember the name of a lamp, calling it a 'light stick' instead.

Before they went to the woods, Sam had called Rowena for help, asking her what they would have to do. She simply replied they had to kill the witch that had roofied him. Dean was even surprised that witches even existed, let alone monsters, ghosts and demons. Dean kept asking Sam questions which annoyed him even more, with each question and each sentence, the younger one got more irritated and the older one was losing his memory.

Dean's best friend was an angel! Isn't that insane? Wow, a messenger of God. Wait, did God even exist? Dean couldn't remember, but he knew that angel's were good, and they were friends with one, so all angels were good, right?

When they got back at the hotel, Dean was exhausted. He wanted to just lay down and continue forgetting about the bad things in the world. But the forgotten memory of the angel kept bugging him, he wanted to remember who he was, but he couldn't. He didn't even know what his name was, nor who he was. All that he knew was that he was an angel, which he guessed was good.

Dean practically jumped on the bed, and as he landed, the bed shook with force. He crossed his arms over his stomach and tried to sleep as Sam was sitting on the desk, writing something down with a pen and paper. Dean looked up in the sky and counted sheep, he counted up to nine but forgot what was next, he shook his head and laid it down to try to sleep, using a different method.

Damn, was sleeping always this hard? Dean had to have remembered how to sleep. It was easy. Just close your eyes and bam, easier done than said. Or was it, easier said than done? That didn't matter. What mattered was Dean's beauty sleep that he couldn't seem to get. 

Sam had finished writing and he went on his phone, texting somebody to ask for help. Dean could hear the beeping and chiming of the phone and he slightly grunted to try to get himself to sleep. None of the methods worked which made him mad, sleeping was supposed to be easy and the highlight of his whole day.