21: Take A Swig [SPN]

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#DEAN-WINCHESTER

Pairings: Dean x Reader
Status: Boyfriend deceased

-First Person Point of View-

I woke up, feeling the cold spot on the right side of the bed. I was now alone in this little apartment.

One week ago, the bed was warm when I would woke up. The room would smell like coffee, and the radio would blast some Kansas. But, now, it was silent. It was cold and dark.

Dean is gone, and I still can't believe it. I swear that stupid son of a bitch will see me soon.

I don't feel like getting dressed up, but I have to meet Sam and Bobby. "Y/N, how have you been lately?"

"I don't know, Sam, how do you feel? I mean, I lost my boyfriend, and you lost your brother. How do you think I have been?" I shouldn't take my anger out on Sam, but I hate when people ask if I'm okay when it's clear that I'm not.

"Don't take this out on me. We did everything we could." I acknowledge Sam's response and nod, apologizing.

"It's just hard, you know. One day he's there, and the next he isn't. We were together since high school, and it's just I can't." I couldn't hold it together. I break down in Sam's arms. He rocks me back and forth, whispering, "We'll get him back."

I shouldn't say this, but I lost hope. I know he'll never come back, and I have to live with that. Bobby came in with Dean's stuff in a box for me to keep or burn in the yard. We agreed that Sam would keep his baby.

We all sat around the table with stuff in front of us and a box in the middle for us to throw the things we want to burn. Bobby already threw something in, but I didn't check. Sam threw Dean's music player, and I fight the urge not to take it back.

I look through my stuff, and tears started to flow down my face. It was a picture of us in high school, the first day we met.

I keep the picture and put it in my bag. I kept his leather jacket and the music concert ticket we went on our first date. For the rest, I threw it in the box and left the room, taking a beer with me. I ignored Bobby's question and made my way into the living room, sitting down on the couch, thinking about Dean.

"Hey, Y/N. I found this in my box. I think it was meant for you." Sam gives me a letter with my name on it. "You should go. We'll take care of your things." I nod and gather my things; I hug Sam and Bobby before going back to our- apartment.

I'm not going to read it right away. I think I'm going to wait until his funeral.

The funeral was fairly large; a lot of people came to show their respect. I was the last one to say goodbye to him. I kneel beside his grave and let go. I can't control my tears. I look up and saw Dean, but I knew it was only my imagination playing tricks.

Sam drove me back to my place and told me he'd come by tomorrow to check on me. "Alright. Be careful, Sammy. I don't want to lose you too." I hug him and get out of Baby. Before I completely reach my door, Sam calls something out.

"Remember, I'm here for you, Y/N."

I take Dean's letter and a cold beer. As I enter my room, I see my side of the bed unmade. I throw my heels on it and sit by my window.

And I start reading;

Dear Y/N,

I'm not really good at these kinds of things so forgive me for any grammar mistakes. I know I didn't tell you that I loved you a lot, but God knows how much I do. It all started in high school, the first time we saw each other. Do you remember that time when I caught you staring at me? Ever since I didn't stop thinking about you. I begged my father for us to stay and miserably failed, but you found your way back to me anyway, and I am grateful for that. I'm never going to forget the memories we had, the case we fought together, hell- I never thought I'd say this but seeing you hunt was one of the best things in my life. But, you know there are consequences to this, and I'm proof of it. Don't blame yourself for what happened, and neither Sam. It was all me, and now I want you to go out there and show the world the strong woman I fell in love with. I love you.

PS- I know you're reading this with a beer in hand, so honey, take a huge swig for me.

Love always, Dean. Or what you liked to call me, your man.

I set the letter down and smile; water drops from the cold bottle of beer as I take it in my hand. "That's for you, Dean." I take a swig and close my eyes, mentally re-reading the letter. I'll miss my man.

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