We pulled up into a parking lot of a run down motel a half hour later. I yanked myself out of the car, balancing myself on my feet. The air reeked of beer and cigarettes. It was a familiar kind of smell. I found myself smiling as I limped to the door.
Room 194. Dean slide the key into the lock, fiddling with it until the door opened. I followed Dean inside, trailing on his feet. He threw his bag on the couch to his left, nodding for Sam to take the bed in the far corner.
"You can have that bed, if you want it." Dean said to me, gesturing to the bed closest to the door.
I stared for a moment at the thin, stained, and rather lumpy couch that Dean planned to sleep on. "I couldn't take your bed, Dean. I'll just get another room."
"I don't mind. I promise." Dean put on a genuine smile, sitting on the edge of what was now my bed and pulling off his shoes.
I nodded, still unsure.
Sam pulled a small bag out of his duffle. "You two are going to need this." He threw the bag at Dean's direction, allowing it to land softly on the side of the bed. "I'm going to take a nice, long walk now."
Sam quickly made his way to the door and stepped outside before I could say a word. Dean didn't seem to find it odd. In fact, he hardly even noticed Sam leave.
I reached for the bag Sam had thrown, opening the inside contents. Bandages, needles, string. It was their homemade kit for hunter's wounds. Cute.
I smile filled my lips. It was all so familiar. Dean and I sitting in an old run down motel, about to stitch up wounds as Sam took a walk to give us space. I shook my head. That kid really wanted things to work out for us. He always had good intensions. Nice kid, like I always said.
Dean stood to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. For a split second I could see a line of his lower abdomen and I had to force myself to look away.
Dean looked up at me and smiled. "Guess we should start on these wounds then, huh?"
I nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. Dean rummaged through the bag for a minute before pulling out the tools he needed. I sighed, trying to avoid looking at the massive scar running along my chest.
"It's not that bad." Dean said, noticing the gaze in my eyes.
"It's the kind of wound that won't fade." I said simply, sighing. I really hated scars.
Dean shrugged, running a clean cloth around the skin to clean off the excess blood. "It'll be a reminder of the night you survived this. Like the scar on your arm. Shows you're a survivor. A fighter. Scars like that are important."
I nodded, looking at the scar on my arm. It had faded a great deal, but it had never gone away. Dean had done a pretty good job of stitching it up all those years ago. I knew I was in good hands.
Dean started to lace the string in and out of my skin, trying to close the wound. I winced, attempting to ignore the small pricks of pain. Dean reached over to his bag and pulled a bottle of scotch out of it. He handed it to me, and went quickly back to his work.
I took a swig, closing my eyes.
As the warm burn of the liquor moved down into my chest, the long awaited guilt trip finally hit me. I was right back where I was 6 years ago. Dean was silently stitching up my wounds and I was drinking an old bottle of something that could take the pain away. There was always a part of me that wanted Dean to be the massive jerk that everyone thought he was. I wanted him to be an asshole. I wanted him to have used me and thrown me aside. It would have been so much easier than this.
Instead, he's kind. He loves without expecting anything in return. He'd take a bullet for just about anyone. He's honest and genuine and nurturing. He watches out for his brother in a kind of way that makes my stomach hurt because I was never loved by anyone with even half of a fraction as much. He was the best man I knew. I loved him and I hated him for it.
"Done." Dean said as he cut the string now attached to my chest. He placed the tools in the bag. "My turn."
Dean turned his back to me so I could have a better look at his head. He hit the wall pretty hard but the bleeding seemed to be pretty minimal. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to move the short strands out of the way so I could examine the wound. The damage wasn't nearly as bad as I would have thought.
But then I noticed a trail of fresh scars peeping from beneath the collar of Dean's shirt.
"Take your shirt off." I said.
Dean laughed, "That progressed quickly."
I smiled, a laugh sneaking through my lips. I hit him on the shoulder lightly. "Just do it, jackass."
He obliged, reaching behind his head to pull the thin fabric over his shoulders. I reached forward, running my fingers along the bareness of his back. He shivered under my touch. The damage wasn't bad, just a lot of what looked like serious rug burn and punctures from tiny rocks. I grabbed the cloth from the bag and dabbed it along his bad, trying to soak up the blood.
"I'm sorry about all this, by the way." Dean said suddenly, breaking the silence. He shook his head. "You shouldn't have had to go through that crap because of me."
I sighed, rubbing my thumb along the bloodied skin on his back. His skin was soft, even under the rubble. "I don't blame you, Dean. I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen."
"Still..." Dean whispered. I could hear the edge of guilt in his voice. My heart cracked. "I couldn't live with myself if something had really happened to you. I don't even know what I would do."
I bit my lip, trying to hold back whatever butterflies were consuming my stomach. I couldn't find anything else to say, not that he expected an answer. We just sat in silence for a while as I ran the cloth gently against his back.
After I had cleared most of the blood away, there wasn't much else to be done. It would hurt like hell for a while, but it would just be impractical to bandage his entire back.
Once I decided I was done, I placed my hand on Dean's shoulder lightly, squeezing it. "It's the best I can do, but it seems you're going to live."
"Always good news." Dean said sadly, slipping his shirt back over his head. He stood for a moment and stared at the empty space of mattress next to me. He bit his lip as if he were deciding if he would take the seat or not.
He did't. Instead, he sat on the edge of Sam's bed, across from me.
Anxiety filled his eyes suddenly as he looked from me to the floor. There was something running rapid through his head, something he seriously needed to get off his chest and it hit him almost immediately. Dean wasn't exactly the type to share his feelings. Hell, neither was I. But we had become the exception to one another. It was our weakness.
Dean kept his eyes trained on the floor, avoiding my gaze. I knew I had to say something but a pit was forming in my stomach and I felt nauseous. I knew what was coming but I opened my stupid mouth anyway.
"What is it?" I asked quietly, not exactly sure I wanted the answer.
He shook his head, forcing a smile to return, as if to play it off like it was no big deal. He looked up at me, staring me right in the eye. "It's stupid, I know. But I keep expecting to wake up. None of this feels real, you know?"
I turned away from him, unable to look into his green eyes anymore.
Dean sighed, continuing. "I just don't get it. I don't get what happened with us. Because as I remember, we were fine. We were great, actually, for a really long time. We talked every single day and I did whatever I could to see you. I know it wasn't as often as either of us wanted, but we were just kids. I couldn't leave my dad or Sammy behind. I had to stick with them."
"I know that, Dean." I said, trying to come up with a better excuse than what was brewing inside my head. The only problem was that I didn't have no. No excuse at all. "I know. None of it was your fault."
"Then tell me what happened!" Dean said, his voice louder than he intended. He closed his eyes. "You just stopped answering one day. That's it. Nothing. I really thought you were dead, (y/n), and that fucking killed me."
I could feel my lower lip twitching and the pressure building behind my eyes. No. I couldn't let myself cry, not now. With all the strength I had I managed to force a few words out. "I'm sorry, Dean."
"I'm sorry? That's really all you have to say?" Dean voice wasn't as angry as it was upset, almost desperate. It would have been easier if he was screaming. "You stop answering one day out of nowhere and I just... I..."
I looked up at him with wide eyes. He met my glaze for a second, his mouth still open as if he were trying to gain the courage to finish his sentence.
Dean sighed and closed his eyes tightly. "You stopped answering and my whole damn world fell apart. So please, tell me why because I deserve answers, (y/n). I deserve them, because I fucking loved you and you just-"
He stopped the second the words slipped out of his mouth. Dean stared at me for only a second before his eyes wandered around the room, trying to capture anything other than the complete shock on my face. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously.
My heart was racing through my chest. "You loved me?" My voice was barely above a whisper.
Dean took a minute to respond. He sighed, chewing on his inner lip. "I don't do relationships. I always screw 'em up somehow. But it was different with you. I didn't have to try. I didn't have to put on this act or anything. I could just be me, crap and all, and you were ok with all of it. I just... It was easy to feel that way about you. I carry a lot of crap on my shoulders and you somehow made it feel less heavy."
Dean stared off at the wall behind me, trying to avoid my eyes. I sat in silence, unable to respond.
"It doesn't matter anymore, ok? I just... I want answers, (y/n). I think I deserve that, at least." Dean sighed, fiddling with his hands anxiously and biting his lower lip. "Look, if you met some guy and you didn't want me-"
"Dean, there was never anyone else." My voice was stronger this time. More certain. Perhaps because I was certain. It was the one thing I knew to be true. "There was only ever you."
That didn't seem to ease him. He shook his head, running his tongue over his lips. "Then what was it? Because I am grasping at straws here, (y/n). What the hell did I do?"
"Nothing, Dean. It was never anything you did." I said, my voice shaking. I didn't know how to explain it and I knew he needed me to and well, I owed him that.
"Then enlighten me, (y/n), please!" Dean yelled, standing to his feet. I could tell the frustration was building in him. He squeezed his hands into fists, trying to restrain himself from hitting a wall. "Just tell me!"
"I was scared, ok!" I shouted, bringing my knees to my chest. Cowering. Dean paused, the anger draining from his system almost immediately. He sat back down on Sam's bed. I sighed, trying to summon the courage to speak. "I don't know how to do this kind of stuff, Dean. I don't know how to love properly. I spent most of my life in a home where that word was never even spoken, let alone felt. And I know you had it rough with John. I know that. But at the end of the day, you know he loved you. There's not a doubt in your mind. Plus, you had Sam. You had someone that made you feel worthwhile. You had someone who loved you unconditionally. I never had that, Dean. I don't know what that feels like."
I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I didn't want to know what he thought of all this. Pathetic is an easy word that comes to mind. But we had been down this road before. Dean was a better man than I always gave him credit for.
I swallowed. "You were so wonderful. You listened to me and put up with all my crap. You genuinely cared about me and I couldn't understand why. We only knew each other for a month high school, Dean. We were different people back then. We grew up and things changed and I just wasn't worth your time. I thought I was doing you a favor."
I took a deep breath, my arms shaking as I clung onto my legs wrapped tightly to my chest. Gathering all the strength I could, I dared to look him right in the eye. They were sad, like mine.
My chest felt heavy as I forced myself to speak. "Don't you dare think for a second that I was okay through all of that. I felt like hell every single day. I missed you liked crazy and I thought I was going to collapse every time I saw your name light up on that stupid little phone. But it was even worse when I didn't see it anymore. Everything hurt. All the time." I finished with my voice shaking, letting out a breath that I could have been holding for centuries. I could feel the tears coming and the lump forming in me throat.
Dean stared at me, a genuine hurt flooding his features. "I don't understand, (y/n). If you really felt like that, why cut me out?"
I shook my head, letting my legs fall off the edge of the bed. I tried to gather some sort of stability as the same frustration that hit Dean only minutes ago was about to smother me.
Then I exploded. "Because I'm weak, Dean! I'm weak, ok? I knew how I felt about you and it scared the shit out of me! I love you more than I've ever loved anyone on this goddamn planet and that's coming from a girl who spent her life purposely trying not to ever have attachments. It terrifies me how much I love you and I was so scared, Dean. I don't know why. But God, loving you scares the shit out of me."
I hadn't noticed when it happened, but I was standing on my feet. My heart was beating rapidly inside my chest, and yet I felt relief. It was all out there. Nothing left to hold back. I let out a deep breath.
Dean slowly stood up, his expression unreadable. He stepped closer to me so our bodies were only inches apart. I felt his hands grasp mine, the roughness of his skin more soothing than I could have ever imagined. I sighed at his touch.
"You love me?" Dean asked, his voice gentle and softer than I had ever head it before. "Present tense?"
The tiniest of smiles escaped my lips as I nodded. "Present tense."
Dean bit his lip, trying to suppress the grin raising his cheeks. He released my hands and instead wrapped his arms tightly around my body, pulling me closer until the only space between us was the fabric of our clothing. He rested his chin on the crown of my head. We fit together so perfectly.
"You're not weak, you know." Dean said, not expected me to answer. "And when you said you didn't have anyone that loved you unconditionally... well, I hate to get all chick flick with you, but I'm that guy, (y/n). I've always been that guy."
I pulled back from his embrace, only enough so I could see his eyes. "Present tense?"
Dean smiled, not even trying to hold it back this time. "Present tense."
A million thoughts went through my mind at once. But the only thing I could focus on was the warm sensation of relief flooding throughout my body. My muscles relaxed for the first time in years and I swear the total and complete joy almost knocked me off my feet. Without wasting any time I reached up and placed my hands on either side of Dean's face and gently pulled his lips down to meet mine.
I felt him smile against my mouth as our lips moved rhythmically together. I could taste died blood on him and his lips were calloused, but it was a familiar and comforting feeling. His hands ran down my back, tracing the fabric of my worn down t-shirt. My fingers clutched onto the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him even closer to me.
My back arched as he moved his right hand to my neck, cupping the side of my face as he kissed me deeper. Hungrier. It was like we had waited years for this moment. Hell, we had.
I wanted more and more of him but I had to stop somewhere. For tonight anyway.
Dean was the first one to pull back. He grinned, a redness filling his cheeks I never though I would see. "So, you want to stick around this time?"
"Do I even need to answer that?" I smiled, allowing it to fill my cheeks as I ran my fingers along his hair. "I'm not going anywhere if it's not with you."
Dean pressed a kiss against my forehead, smiling against my skin. He looked to Sam's empty bed behind him. "Maybe I should call Sam and let him know it's safe to come back. It's pretty late."
"Do what you need to. I need some serious sleep. It's been an eventful day, to say the least." I grinned, pulling back the heavy covers of the bed and climbing inside.
Dean nodded and grabbed my phone, about to head for the door.
"Oh and Dean?" I called.
He spun around, that same smile never leaving his lips. "Yeah, baby?" He asked, trying the name out for the first time.
My heart swelled on the spot. I tried to stop my cheeks from blushing, but I knew it was no use. Damn boy made me weak and he knew it. He raised an eyebrow, urging me to go on.
"The left side of the bed is open for you when you get back." I said, resting my head on the pillow. "You know, if you want it?"
Dean's smile only spread wider. I swear I've never seen him so happy and I felt worthwhile for the first time in years. Dean made me feel like I was invincible, like I take on the whole damn world. He made me feel... loved. I would go through another 6 years of heartache again in an instant if I knew I'd have this in the end.
Dean walked over to the bed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my lips that lingered just a bit longer than he originally intended. "I plan on spending every goddamn second I can with you to make up for lost time. You better believe I'll take you up on that offer."
I smiled, biting my lip as Dean made his way to the door. He looked back at me for a moment before turning the handle to step outside. He shook his head, a smile so wide it crinkled the skin around his eyes.
I curled up inside the blankets of the dirty old motel, staring at the left side of the bed where Dean would lay tonight and every goddamn night for however long we wanted. It was a beautifully freeing feeling.
I smiled to myself, pressed the side of my face into the pillow. I wasn't scared. Not at all.
Dean made me feel safe. Physically and well... in the super girly emotional way too. He was the exception to every rule I had ever made. He was the anchor that held my hand when I thought I was about to go mad; he pulled me back to earth. He was the man I planned to hold onto with every fiber of my being. I was never going to let Dean Winchester slip from my grasp again.
I love him.
And dammit, he loves me too.
