esoteric ↯ dean winchester x reader

xvi.

You tried to wait it out but Sam sent you to go get rest. You fell asleep in Dean's bed. It was only fitting. You really wished he would be okay. You laid in bed after sleeping for maybe 2 hours.

Everything sunk in. Monsters. Demons. All these evil things existed, and as far as you knew you were one of them. Dean was one of them. What even was Dean to you at this point? All that's really happened was you slept together twice and kept in touch a few times between it. Did you want something more?

You didn't want to think anymore. You got up to check on Sam. He was still in the dungeon with Dean. You overheard their conversation, that was something you think you'll be doing a lot.

"Guys like me still got to do what we can." Sam says, "You taught me that."

"Don't be so full of yourself, Sammy. 'Cause, see, from where I'm sitting..." Dean pauses, probably knowing exactly what nerve to pull on, "There ain't much difference from what I turned into to what you already are."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Sam asked, slightly offended but also amused with this idiotic defense.

"I know what you did when you went looking for me. I know how far you went. Crowley told me all about it. And you got an innocent girl wrapped up in this now, too. You got her mixed up in this, not me. I didn't get her kidnapped and tortured." Dean said, low and knowingly, "So let me ask you ... which one of us is really a monster? Hmm? Starting to come back to you now?"

You hear Sam let out a breath as he thinks back. Dean has him right where he wants him, "You were trying to get a twenty on Crowley and me from any demon you could snag. But Crowley didn't want to be found, and no one showed when you summoned. But you found a way, didn't you, Sam? You would have liked to have gotten there before the deal went down, but you didn't really care about poor ol' Lester, did you? Oh, and so you know, I killed Lester myself. And that wife of his married the tattooed guy."

You pieced the story together, it made you much more weary of Sam. Where you fit into this equation. But you knew it wasn't Sam's fault for you getting mixed into this. Sam slams his hand down on the table, snapping you back to their conversation.

"I never meant—" Sam started but Dean could care less.

"Who cares what you meant?! That line that we thought was so clear between us and the things that we hunted, ain't so clear is it?" Dean said, stinging a nerve, "Wow. You might actually be worse than me! I mean, you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul. Nice work."

You hear Sam plunge the next needle into Dean's skin, and he screams in pain. This time its even worse than before. You hear Sam toss the syringe onto the table.

"Let me ask you this, Sammy: If this doesn't work, we both know what you got to do to me, right?" Dean built up rage, "You got the stomach for that, Sam?!"

Sam didn't respond. You surely didn't. You heard footsteps approaching the door frame and left the hall for the library. Sam retreated to his room for a little bit. After giving him an appropriate amount of space and time, you knocked on the door.

"It's open." Sam said. When you opened the door he was laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. He wasn't crying or anything, just numb.

"How's it going?" You asked.

"All things considered, I have my brother back so it's okay." He said.

"You know, he's not really Dean right now. Everything he says it isn't-" you started but it was nothing he hadnt been repeating over and over.