Strength - DeanxReader

Chapter 4: Make Up Your Mind

After hours on the road, Dean finally got a call from the friend that was in charge of handling your car. Jumping, you awoke from your nap as the obnoxiously loud ringtone of one of his many burner phones sounded, You had secretly been listening for it, what could you say, you wanted to be in on the conversation the older winchester had with this person.

"Hey Bobby, thanks for helping." He answered the phone with. Bobby, you thought, that name sounds awfully familiar. "Yeah, '67 Cadillac, thats the one." More muffled talking from the other end. "Yeah i'll text you the address. Thanks again." Click. He reached across you to put the phone into the glove compartment, and shut it quietly. 

You yawned as you stretched your arms as high as you could, careful not to punch the roof of the Impala. Wide awake, you took the time to admire your current setting. You ran your small hands over the smooth leather seats, taking the time to feel the divots in the fabric, the microscopic rips at the edge. Your eyes, on the other hand, looked outside the windshield, watching as the trees whipped past you, the orange and brown leaves swirling in circles on the asphalt.

"Whats the date today, Dee?" you asked out of curiosity, not being able to remember the exact date. 

"September 5th, and you gotta stop with those dumbass nicknames. My name is Dean." he grumbled at you, relaxing his posture and sticking one of his arms out of the window. You smirked, knowing that you would never stop calling him anything other than Dean. Maybe you could keep it up, and never actually call him by his real name. Quickly, you were pulled out of your thoughts by own free will, you had to be careful.

"So.... it's almost holiday season. What do you guys celebrate?" You asked, still running your hands over the leather interior. You got no answer. "Come on, you have to celebrate something!" you pried. More silence. Finally giving up on communicating with Dean you muttered curse words under your breath, really aggravated, but not yet acting upon it. He treated you like trash sometimes, and then others he's a sweetheart. Why can't he make up his mind?  You angrily picked up your phone and headphones out of your backpack and plugged them in, bringing the headphones over your head and onto your ears. Thank God these are soundproof, you thought to yourself. You pressed play on your playlist and ended up listening to Paint It Black by the Rolling Stones.

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60 songs deep into your playlist, you zoned out, only to be shaken out of it by someone literally shaking you. It took you a couple seconds, but when you were really being pushed around, your instincts kicked in and you pulled out your knifes, pushing them against the throat of who ever was next to you. When you looked at your 'assailant', you saw a very scared Dean Winchester gulping, with his hands in the air.  You were back at the bunker, once again in the garage. 

"Damn." You heard him whisper, as you pushed away your headphones from off of your ears. 

"Sorry, Dee-Dee, couldn't hear, see, or feel ya there." you apologized, pushing past him in a fit of anger in an attempt to get out of the garage of the bunker without further conversation. Throwing your bag over your leather-clad shoulder, you started walking, farther and farther from Dean. Unfortunately, he wouldn't let you go that easily.

"Hey wait! What the fu-" he started, grabbing your shoulder to turn you around, but you clasped his wrist, squeezing as tightly as you could. 

"Listen here, Winchester. I'm not some toy you can just push around whenever you like, okay? I've been around you less than 72 hours, and somehow you've managed to fuck with my emotions more than any other punk ass wannabe that i've ever met, but i'm done. I didn't ask for you to come pull me out of my life!" You pushed him in the chest, over and over, as he kept backing up closer to the wall. All while looking up to him, you continued. "When I leave, and I will, just know its gonna be your fault. And when you need me most, I will not come crawling. Remember that, kid." you finished, giving him one final push till he hit the wall with a thud.

You walked away, your hips swaying and your black Timberlands clicking against the ground. Dean only watched you walk away from him as he thought over your words, and questioned his own.

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Finally reaching your room from the maze of identical doors, you locked the door and flopped down onto the grey bed. You brushed hair out of your face and removed the headphones from your neck, then threw your bag onto the floor. 

"Ugh!" you yelled in frustration just as you threw your custom knife into the wall across from you, it landing perfectly next to the door frame. 

You took deep breaths, bringing your arm over your eyes. Suddenly you heard soft knocking on your door, which you followed by yelling "Fuck off!" 

"(Y/N), it's me, Sam. Can we talk?" you heard him say into the crack of your bedroom door. There was a pause. "I brought pie... and iced coffee." How could he possibly know those are your two favorites? You reluctantly got up and pulled your knife out of the wall. 

Opening your door a crack, big enough for you to see through, you asked "What type of pie?"

"Apple, with that crumbly stuff on the top." He replied, showing you the still steaming pie in one hand, and the coffee in the other.

"Come on in, Sammy." you said, pushing the door wide open and re-throwing your knife across the room.

"Do you just.. throw that thing across the room?" He asked, setting the pie and coffee on the desk across from your bed. 

"You have no clue how many monsters i've ganked with knife-throwing." you responded, hopping on the desk and cutting yourself a piece of apple pie. "So what's up, buttercup?" 

Sam sat down across from your on the mattress, and sighed, his own plate resting on his knee. "What happened between you and Dean?"

"Your jackass brother can't make up his mind on if he wants to act like a civil human or ignore me like usual." you said through a mouthful of pie. "Turns out, i'm leaving in two days, getting outta here in the morning!" you yelled excitingly, feigning interest. 

"No, no you can't leave! We need you! Dean.." he paused, sighing it off and starting again. "Look, we have a hunt tomorrow, simple salt and burn. Come with us." He looked at you pleadingly.

"Fine. But i'm eating the rest of this pie." You said, smirking. He grinned back at you, nodding. He left the room, bidding you goodnight and shutting the door.

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You awoke to freezing cold water flooding your senses, as you heard a gruff voice yelling "Wake up, princess!" You quickly pulled out the pistol from beneath your pillow and fired a warning shot left of the voices head.

"What the fuck!?" Dean yelled, still holding the bucket with ice. 

"Out of the room. NOW!" you screamed at him still holding the gun steady. He stormed out of the room, a string of profanities flowing from his mouth.

You quickly dried off and dressed in a simple outfit; your ripped black mom jeans, a red tank top and your leather jackets and timberlands.   

Walking down the hall, through the main room and into the garage, reaching a motorbike that was sitting next to the impala. Sam must have set it up for you, he knew you couldn't ride with Dean for more than 5 minutes anymore.

"Alright boys," you said, revving up the engine. "Lets get this party started." 

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Hey guys! Thanks for reading! I hope your enjoying, and if you have any suggestions leave them in the comments! 

Until next time,

The Writer.