Dean's POV
Dean sat on the edge of the mattress, fiddling anxiously with the gun in his hands. He looked over to Sam, who sat at the table staring diligently into some book, like he always did. Dean sighed, setting the gun down beside him.
"I'm bored, man. There has got to be a new case somewhere." Dean groaned, standing to his feet. He began to pace awkwardly around the room for a while, stopping every now and then to look over to Sam to see if there was any change. There wasn't.
Then, as if on cue, Sam's phone start to ring.
"Thank God." Dean mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
Sam reached for the phone then suddenly paused when he saw who was calling. His jaw dropped just slightly, enough to show his brother that something was off. Sam sighed, running his hands through his hair, staring at the small screen of the flip phone as it continued to ring. "Dean... uh... I don't know how to say this, man... but... It's (y/n.)"
"What?" Dean's voice came out just above a whisper, his tense arms dropping to his side. He felt the entire weight of the world collapse in on him in just seconds. It wasn't possible. She was dead. She had to have been. Maybe he just convinced himself she was so he could find some kind of twisted peace when she suddenly dropped him from her life. It hurt like hell. He didn't really have another choice.
It had been nearly two years since he had heard her voice. Dean felt his lower lip twitching, and he tried to push the feelings away quickly before they consumed him whole.
"Give it me." Dean said sternly, extending his hand. He did all he could to keep them from shaking.
Sam handed the phone over, placing it in his brother's palm. He gave Dean a concerned glance, not sure what was going through his mind; silently telling him that it would be alright.
Dean stared at the phone for a minute longer, his eyes tracing every letter of (y/n)'s name. It had been so long since he had seen it light up upon that tiny screen. It made his chest ache. He took a deep breath and forced his heart rate back to a normal pace.
He lifted the phone to his ear. "(Y/n)?"
Only there wasn't an answer. Only silence.
Dean cleared his throat, feeling extremely uneasy. "It's... uh...It's Dean."
He wasn't sure how else to start the conversation. What do you even say to a woman you thought was either dead or wanted nothing to do with you? It's not exactly an easy ice breaker to tackle.
Again, for a few seconds there was no response. Then Dean could hear he faint sound of laughter. A man's voice at that. His first instinct was that the call had been a mistake, that (y/n) had a some guy over and she accidentally hit Sam's number. The very thought made Dean weak in the knees, like he could fall over at any second. But then his senses kicked in. As possible as the scenario was, Dean could feel a pit forming in his stomach. His gut was practically screaming. Something wasn't right.
"Who is this?" Dean questioned, leaning his weight on the table. Sam looked at him, confusion in his eyes. Dean waved him off, turning his back to his brother.
"Dean, Dean, Dean..." The voice spoke. "I dialed Sam's phone, you know? Are you really that desperate to talk to her? Pathetic, honestly."
Dean felt his legs shaking underneath him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to regain composure. "What the hell do you want?"
"I want you to meet me at the old Weasley's Saw Mill on the western outskirts of Wichita at 11 o'clock tonight. I hear you're only a few hours out, so no excused if you're late." The voice said; his tone smooth and yet jarring at the same time. He knew something Dean didn't. This couldn't end well.
"And why the hell would I do that?" Dean asked plainly. He looked to Sam, rolling his eyes. He really tried to pretend that this was just some low level asshole and it was a complete coincidence that he called from (y/n)'s phone. He knew better, of course, but he could pretend for just a few minutes longer.
The man chuckled. "Because I have something you want, moron. Well, someone I should say. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"
"Dean, don't listen to him! It's a trap!"
The sound of her voice nearly sent Dean to his knees. He clutched the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. Sam stood up immediately, taking notice of Dean's sudden change of mood and grabbed his brother's shoulder to keep him steady.
"Shut your mouth, bitch." The man shouted; his voice was muffled as he turned away from the phone. Then Dean heard the sound of the man's fist collide against (y/n)'s jaw. He could practically hear the blood splatter on the floor.
Dean gripped the phone so tightly, it might have crackled under his grasp. "Touch her again and I will slaughter you, you understand me?" He growled.
The man laughed, a confidence in his voice that nearly send Dean over the edge. "I've done quite a number on her already, Dean. I am not afraid of your threats. I suggest you come where you're told, or I will very easily and with great pleasure slice the bitch's throat. Now, do you understand me?"
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, trying to process exactly what was happening. He took a deep breath, knowing there was no other option. Obviously it was a trap. He knew this. Hell, he was Dean Winchester.
But this was (y/n). She will literally die if he didn't do something. He couldn't just let that happen; even if it tore him apart just to see her again.
He was going to run head first into a trap for a girl he only knew for a month in High School. But damn, it felt like centuries.
"I'll be there."
XXXXXXX
(Y/N)'s POV
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" I spit, watching the crimson liquid descend to the floor. Then I looked up at him, my eyes narrowing. "He'll kill you."
Mark laughed, a smirk lighting only the left corner of his cheeks. It left an uneasy feeling in my stomach. He didn't say anything. He only shook his head, that same laugh visible throughout his features. He was one hell of a confident demon, I'll give him that.
"So what's your plan now, genius?" I questioned, trying to get some answers out of him I knew I would never find. But hell, it was worth a shot. I needed to be as prepared as possible for when Dean got here. I mean, it was Mark's intention to slit my throat the second Dean spotted me and I'm not so keen on the idea of death at the moment.
Mark turned his back to me, stepping closer to the metal door that locked me inside the rather small and concrete covered room. "Now, we wait."
And then he was gone.
XXXXXXXX
What could have only been a few hours began to drag like years. I struggled to keep my eyes open as I felt myself slowly begin to nod off. I most likely had a concussion from the amount of hits I took, so sleep wasn't really a viable option. It wasn't until I heard the sound of gunshots that I snapped awake.
My heart was beating rapidly in my chest as I heard Dean's voice echoing through the halls, shouting to Sam. There must be more demons crawling around this dump than I thought.
I looked to my arms that were bound to the chair, and struggled to free them. I bit my lip, trying to ignore the pain of the raw skin beneath the ropes. It was no use. Damn demons knew how to tie a good knot.
Then I heard pounding against the door to my cellar. I gulped, half of me hoping it was Dean; the other half praying it was literally anyone else. The door swung open after the last hit, slamming against the adjacent wall.
In it's frame stood Dean Winchester and time seemed to slow down. He was much older than I remembered him, with the stubble along his jaw and muscles packed onto his body. A few things were still the same though; the messiness of his hair, the subtle traces of dirt on his face, the lingering sadness he carried behind his eyes when he thought no one could see. It felt like a damn dream seeing him again.
Dean didn't waste any time. He bolted towards me, kneeing in front my chair. He reached forward, cupping my face in his hands. I felt him place his thumb delicately against a new bruise forming on my jawline. The whole scene felt too familiar for my liking.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Dean asked, his voice lower than I remembered. It was raspier too. Soothing.
I could only stare at him, lost in those green eyes of his. I couldn't even speak, let alone answer his questions.
"(Y/n)!" Dean snapped, shaking me. "Did he hurt you?"
I shook my head, regaining composure. "No, no, I'm fine. I've had worse."
Dean nodded, releasing me. I felt my body crave his touch again the second it left. His hands made their way to my right arm, tugging on the ropes. I winced and chocked back a yelp, feeling the burn against my raw and bloodied skin.
"Shit, sorry." Dean whispered, pulling a knife from his back pocket. He kept looking anxiously to the door as he began to saw the ropes.
"Dean," I said, finally brining myself back into focus. "You have to get out of here. It's a trap."
Dean didn't look up at me, or stop cutting the ropes for even a second. "I know."
"So what the hell are you doing here?" I asked, my voice harsher than I wanted it to be. I couldn't help it. I was kind of pissed at him for showing up, throwing himself into obvious danger for no good reason at all.
Dean shook his head as he cut through the last rope tying my right arm down. He made his way to my left hand before he spoke. "I'm here to get you out of this mess, (y/n)."
"I don't need you to save me, Dean." I closed my eyes, knowing that those words hurt him though he would never show it. "This demon, Mark, he has a vengeance against you."
"I don't know a demon named Mark, (y/n). I kill a lot of demons, I'm sure they all have a vengeance against me." Dean stated simply, continuing his work on the ropes surrounding my left wrist. "I don't exactly get to know them all by name before I gank 'em."
"You killed his girlfriend, or whatever." I sighed. "And now... he uh... he wants to get back at you by..."
"...killing you." Dean realized, finally looking up at me; his eyes full of a sadness I never wanted to see in him. The guilt of it all was already consuming him. It was goddamn talent. He gently pulling the loose ropes from around my wrist, and tossed them to the side. "I'm not going to let that happen."
"We'll see about that." Mark grinned, suddenly appearing in the room. He twisted a knife around in his hands, staring the two of his down.
Dean quickly helped me to my feet, stepping in front of me; his body shielding mine. Funny how that was his first instinct, to protect me.
"If you think you're gonna lay another hand on her, you are sorely mistaken." Dean growled, his eyes narrowing.
Mark laughed, stepping forward. Dean held his ground. "You must be as dumb as you look, Dean-o."
With a single flick of the wrist, Dean went flying into the wall. He body slammed against the concrete and landed on the ground with a loud thud. He rolled on his side, groaning and clutching the back of his head which was now dripping blood down his neck.
I was frozen still, staring at Dean lying on the concrete floor, trying with all his will to stand back up. I was about to run to him when I felt Mark grab me from behind, yanking me in the opposite direction.
The cool metal blade sitting diligently against my throat seemed to be all the motivation Dean needed. He sprung to his feet in obvious pain, propping his body up against the wall. "Get away from her."
Mark frowned. "I thought you would put up a better fight, Dean, really I did. I have to say I'm a bit disappointed in you."
Dean stepped forward, away from the wall, his hands clutching a long, thin barreled gun in his grasp I hadn't noticed before. His upper lip began to twitch as he aimed it at us. Mark tightened his grip on me, pressing the blade harder against my throat. I could feel it breaking skin. Blood dripped down my neck, sliding to my chest. I winced, struggling in his grasp.
Dean had a rage in his eyes I had never seen, but for a split second he caught my eye and it seemed to fade. I stared at him, calmer than I had ever been. I said years before that I would put my life in his hands willingly. I guess this was my chance.
Mark laughed, I could feel the vibration of it against my back. "You gonna shoot me, Dean? What is that going to do? I'm a demon, you idiot. Mortal weapons won't harm me."
Dean grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess you'll have to wait and find out."
Mark held me closer to him, maneuvering me so my body was shielding his. There was only one shot to take and it was inches from my face.
"You're not going to take the shot, Winchester. We both know it." Mark growled. "You wouldn't risk it, not with (y/n)'s life hanging in the balance. One wrong move and you kill the goddamn love of your life. Think you can handle that? Huh, Dean?"
Dean narrowed his eyes, tightening the grip on his gun. His knuckles were white.
Mark repositioned the knife on my throat. I could tell this was it; seconds away from salvation or murder. "I bet I can drag this blade against your girl's throat faster than you can pull the trigger. Want to test that theory, Winchester?"
I squeezed my eyes shut as the sound of gunfire filled the air. I felt a sharp pain ran down my throat and along my chest from where the knife had dragged against my skin. Pain was a good thing. It meant I wasn't dead. I also wasn't chocking on blood. All good signs.
Still, I felt lightheaded and my body gave out on me. But before I could hit the floor, Dean's arm managed to encase me. He held me tight against his chest as he turned away from Mark's body lying next to us, a single bullet in his forehead.
Mark's eyes were glossy, still open. I couldn't help but stare. The face that stared back wasn't that of a demon or a monster, but a scared man in his early twenties. The demon had stripped him of everything. His humanity. His life. Poor kid never had a chance.
"You ok?" Dean whispered, pushing me away only enough to see my face.
I looked up at him, nodding, not sure what else to say.
His tired, green eyes crinkled as a smile reached his lips. "It's nice to see you again, (y/n)."
I opened my mouth, about to say yeah, you too or I've missed you like hell or I'm sorry I gave up on us, please forgive my absolutely stupidity because I am so damn in love with you that I can't even see straight. You know, something simple. But then another quick thought came to mind that seemed a bit more important.
"Where's Sam?" I asked suddenly.
I watched Dean's smile drop instantly. He looked anxiously around the room. "Shit. I'm sure he's out there somewhere. You okay to come with?"
I nodded and accepted his hand, helping me to my feet. I could feel my legs wobbling beneath me, so I grabbed onto Dean's arm for support. He didn't seem to mind. He looked from my hands wrapped around his bicep to the door ahead of us. He bit his lip, trying suppress a smile.
We made our way into the hall which turned out to be stunningly empty; if you didn't count the numerous demon bodies lining the floors. Dean pursed his lips.
"Sammy!" Dean shouted, his voice echoing.
For a moment there was nothing. We continued along the hall, my grip on Dean's arm tightening whenever I took a step.
"Sam! Come on man, where are you?" Dean yelled. "Sammy!"
"Dean!" A deep voice rung from behind the thick, concrete wall.
Dean turned his attention to a metal door to our right, much like the one that held me in. I let go of his arm and leaned against the wall, allowing Dean the space to work at the door's handle. After a few minutes of frustrated lock picking, he finally got it open.
A man stood on the other side, sitting cross legged on the floor, clutching his gun. His long, brown hair nearly covered his eyes and when he stood up I swear he was over 6 feet tall.
"Sammy!" Dean ran into the room, yanking his brother to his feet.
Sammy? Shit, that kid really grew up in the last 6 years. Like, whoa.
Sam looked from his brother, and then slowly to me. A smile spread quickly across his lips. "(Y/n)!"
He made his way across the room and engulfed me in a hug before I could object; not that I ever would. I mean, look at the kid. He was lovable as hell.
"How are you doing? It is seriously so nice to see you again." Sam said, his smile so genuine that I couldn't help but return the gesture. "I want to hear all about how you've been and where you ended up going after we left and if you heard from you dad and-"
"Sammy." Dean's voice prodded it, hitting his brother on the arm. "I don't know about you, but (y/n) and I have some serious wounds we need to attend to. We can catch up at the motel, come on."
Dean waved for us to head towards the door, but he held back as Sam rolled his eyes and made his way to the exit. He looked to me, extending his arm for me to hold onto.
"Thanks." I whispered, grabbing on.
Dean helped me hobble along to the exit, pushing the heavy door open. It was dark outside and I could hear the crickets chirping in the distance. It smelt of a crisp fall air and faintly of laundry detergent. Maybe that last bit was just Dean. It was nice. Comforting, really. Smelled like a home we were all looking for.
A shiny black car started to appear in the distance. Sam shouted for Dean to throw him the keys and he lights blinked a few times as he unlocked the doors. No freaking way.
"You still have the impala?" I asked, grinning ear to ear. My mind drifted for a moment to the night Dean and I had spent in the back seat of that car, listening to music and drinking beer. We had no idea what was ahead of us. I had tried so damn hard not to fall for him. It didn't work, but we all know that.
Dean nodded, obviously proud. "Yeah, she's beautiful, right?"
"Stunning." I said, tracing my hand along the smooth surface. "I can't believe it's still in this condition."
Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well I always-"
"Guys!" Sam shouted at us, rolling his eyes with a smile present on his lips. "Wounds to attend to, remember? Let's go."
I looked at Dean and we both laughed for a moment before climbing into the car. Dean at the wheel, Sam in the passenger's seat. I smiled, watching them as Dean drove along the highway. It was so peaceful. I wondered for a moment if this was how it was always like with these two. Fun. Carefree. Simple.
I craved it more than I ever thought possible.
