Relationship: Dean/Reader
Word Count: 1,855
Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of PTSD
Summary: After the incident with Bloody Mary, Dean decides it's time to tell Sam. Time to tell Sam about what he did during the two and a half years Sam was away at Stanford and Dean wasn't hunting with John. Time to tell Sam about what they both had in common with their father.
A/N: This is the quality part 9 that I was hoping to give y'all. Keep sending messages about it!
~Jordan
October 20th, 2005
"I found her three days after the call with Bobby. We were right. Demons had taken her. There were two of them. Neither was the one that killed mom. At the time, I didn't think they had anything to do with it, I just guessed they like messing with our family. I was able to kill one, but... but the other got away." Dean paused and looked out the windshield in front of him. "She never told me what all exactly happened in the five days that they had her... I mean, it was obvious that they had tortured her, hurt her somehow. She didn't tell my how or why and I told her she didn't have to if she didn't want to, you know." Dean checked his watch as Sam took in the story. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean cut him off. "We should get to a motel, we've been sitting here for a half hour. I'll finish telling you everything once we settle down, okay?" Dean looked at his brother, who nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure," Sam said gently.
February 19th, 2002
Dean sat by your hospital bed as you slept, his elbows on his knees, his hands supporting his chin as he leaned forward. He wasn't worried. The doctors told him you'd be fine, that you just needed some rest since you didn't get any sleep while you were held hostage. He was just watching you as you slept, hoping you slept peacefully. Hoping there weren't any demonic nightmares. Hoping you'd forgive him when you woke up. Hoping you'd let him take care of you while your injuries healed. Hoping what happened in the past week wouldn't mean you'd have to go back to hunting or running. Dean wasn't worrying at all. He was praying.
He had closed his eyes for a few minutes when you opened yours. You carefully turned your head- the muscles in your neck were strained- and looked at him. "Dean," you whispered, your voice hoarse.
His eyes snapped open and he scooted his chair closer, resting his hands on the edge of your bed. "Yeah, baby, it's me," he said with a forced smile.
Your lips turned up slightly. "I know. I remember everything," you told him.Everything.
"Baby, I am so sorry that I couldn't-"
"Stop right there, Winchester," you interrupted him. "It's not your fault, okay? You couldn't have known this would happen. You couldn't have possibly thought out a plan for if a situation like this were to occur." You snickered darkly to yourself. "I honestly thought I'd die before you even found them." If you could, you'd shake your head, but your neck was too fragile. "But I knew you'd find them. I knew you'd look for me. You were a hunter; you had to find them sometime, right?" Dean nodded then looked down once his eyes watered. You inched your hand forward and linked your pinky with his. "Hey," you whispered. "It's okay. We'll just have to relocate, that's all. We can still be normal."
Dean gently squeezed your pinky with his. "I'm never going to let anything touch you again, I swear to god," he said through gritted teeth.
"Neither of us is religious, Dean." There was evident pain in your voice, but Dean cracked a smile.
