Memories Best Forgotten (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Chapter 8

Groaning, you covered your eyes with your arm, trying to pull the blankets over your head. Hearing laughter from across the room, you opened your eyes enough to glare at Sam.

"Really? You couldn't have found a better way to wake me up?" You grumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Sam was already dressed, in jeans and a long sleeve buttoned down shirt.

"Sorry honey, but you never sleep in this late, even on a day off. I'm taking off, and I wanted to make sure you were awake before I left." Sam explained, before leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

"Good luck with classes." You told him as he left the room. Glancing at the alarm clock, you realize you had just enough time for a quick shower before you had to meet Dean for breakfast. Just thinking about it brought butterflies to your stomach, and you wondered if you were doing the right thing.

45 minutes later, you found yourself straightening your simple green tshirt before opening the door to Judy's. Glancing around the small family owned restaurant you failed to find Dean.

The usual hostess, Julia, smiled at you. "Just you?"

Shaking your head, you showed her two fingers. "I'm meeting a friend of mine. He should be here soon." Julia showed you to a booth near the back, where you could see the door, but it also offered you a bit of privacy.

Minutes ticked past, but Dean still hadn't shown up. Your coffee was brought to you, and you were almost ready to order when you heard the tinkling of the bell hanging on the door.

You watch as Dean walked in, his eyes scanning the place before finally settling on you. His full lips broke open into a smile as he noticed you, his long legs striding over. Drinking in the sight of him, his long, lean legs, his firm chest covered in a black tee and a red flannel, and his face, with all the freckles and the striking jawline. He was a very handsome man, sure and confident.

"I wasn't sure you were coming. " You blurted out awkwardly, inwardly groaning at how stupid you sounded.

He slidinto the booth before answering. "I'm sorry, ran into an old friend, lost track of time."

Once the waitress took your order, you both fell into a difficult silence, you not knowing how to start the conversation, while Dean waited patiently.

Knowing Dean was there because of you, you found the courage to speak, watching those mossy green eyes fixate on yours. What was hiding in them? You could have almost sworn you had seen hope, even affection, but then they were clouded over with a look closer to pain.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me. I'm sorry about the late night text messages." You started to say, startled when Dean's rough hand covers your much smaller one. It was callused, with scars crisscrossing over the top of his freckled hand.

"Don't ever be sorry for contacting me. Ever. I know we haven't known each other very long, but I want you to know I will always be there for you." He assured you, his grip tight on yours, making sure you understood how sincere he was being.

Blushing under the intensity of his stare, and his comment, you felt light headed at the thought of having this wonderful man there for you. Then an image of Sam popped into your head, flooding you with feelings of guilt and shame. Slowly withdrawing your hand from Dean's, you missed the hurt look crossing his face.

"What did you want to talk about?" He asked, changing the subject, just as breakfast was delivered, an omelet for you and a hearty stack of pancakes and bacon for him. 

You waited to answer his question, instead focusing on eating, giving you a chance to figure out what you wanted to say, and how to say it without seeming entirely crazy.

"I know how stupid this sounds, but when I saw you yesterday, it felt like I've known you before. Then last night I had the weirdest dream, and you were in it. It really rattled me, and I knew I needed to talk to you about it."

His eyebrows furrowed, his face showing his confusion. "You dreamed about me? Sweetheart, I'm flattered, but shouldn't you be dreaming about Sam?"

Flustered, you tried to explain again. "I know, I feel horrible dreaming about another man while Sam is sleeping next to me. But I couldn't help it. It was so vivid, and real, like it had actually happened. I could smell the mold of the building, I felt the adrenaline rushing through my veins, and I could feel your blood on my hands."

Dean's expression turned to shock and disbelief, his mouth opening and closing multiple times before he found the words to say.

"What exactly happened in your dream? Tell me everything." He demanded, moving to reach for you before deciding against it.

So you explained about the vampires, and him being hurt, and he listened, a troubled look on his face.

"Please don't think I'm crazy." You begged, after you finished telling him your dream.

"Sweetheart, I know you're not crazy. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get in contact with a friend. He might be able to help." Dean explained, before striding out the door.

You turned your attention back to your breakfast, but you were no longer hungry, your omelet becoming a way to pass the time. Ten minutes went by, and you wondered if Dean would be coming back. Your waitress gave you a sympathetic smile as she filled your coffee cup, and you knew she thought you had been ditched.

You started to pull your wallet out, giving up, when Dean came back through the door, followed by a man in a long tan trench coat. Dean slid into the seat, and the man followed suit.

Dean was the first one to speak. "Y/N, this is Cas, I want you to tell him about your dream."

You looked between both men, confusion evident on your face. "Why did you call him Cas, his name is Ryan? He's been one of my regular customers for as long as my bakery's been open. How can he help me?"