Strength - DeanxReader

Chapter 6: Please

When you finally reached the bunker, you were silent. The creak of the door was the one of the only things you would hear for minutes, the next thing accompanying it was the click of your Timberlands on the tiled floor. Things stayed this way until you reached your nondescript bedroom door, immediately flinging it open, watching it crash into the wall behind. You screamed in frustration, letting your head fall back and your voice ring throughout the entire building.

When your voice was gone you caught your breath, gripping the doorframe to keep you upright. Taking careful steps to your closet you found a tiny bag that must have been there before your stay, and grabbed it. Since you didn't have your car yet, you barely had enough to fill a briefcase. You set the bag down on the desk across from your bed and started gathering your things from across the room. Really all you had to get were your leggings from last morning and your weapons, since you borrowed a flannel from Sam yesterday. You didn't have enough time to go shopping for clothes or get your bag, so what could you do?

Grabbing your extra hunting tools from beneath the bed you were done. You made the bed as nicely as you could, and left the room. As soon as you walked past the kitchen, your stomach was growling as if a bear had taken over your body. You sighed and forced yourself to keep walking, not risking Deans wrath if you touched his food. You finally reached the map room, and you looked around once more. To be honest, you were sad to leave this place. Dean could go fuck himself, but you were going to miss Sam. You'd miss Deans sweet moments too, you guessed.

Finally reaching the giant metal door, you cranked the vault like handle and yanked it open. Taking one last look behind you, you finally stepped through the door, shutting it behind you with a satisfying click.

------

Hours later you found yourself out of gas and at a Gas+Sip-Motel complex. Sighing you decided it was best to camp out there until you could figure out where you were going to go. You pulled your IPhone out of your back jean pocket and clicked it on, seeing a bunch of missed calls from one Sam Winchester. Oh thank god, he's alive! you thought to yourself, only making you miss the Bunker even more.

"One room, please." You told the woman at the oak desk.

"Oof, you look like hell, little lady!" she trailed off, pulling out a set of two keys from under the desk, looking up at you with questioning eyes.

"Yeah, just got back." You retorted, tucking back pieces of stray hair behind your ear. "Thanks, again." You told her before tucking your motorcycle helmet in the nook of your elbow and walking to your room. You were exhausted, wanting to do nothing more than crash on the old mattress awaiting in your new home. Suddenly your stomach growled and you sighed, knowing it was at least a 10 minute drive to the nearest bar you saw. Checking your pockets for cash, you set your bag down and hopped back on your bike, riding off in search of food.

The bar was lit up with flickering white Christmas lights, the sound of laughter and music booming from inside. Wanting to avoid all the thirsty drunk adults, you found a counter chair separated from most of the crowd, plunked down and ordered.

"Uh, I'll take a burger and fries. Your best beer ,too, thanks." You said, handing the menu back to your waiter as he sauntered back to the kitchen to make your meal. Eating and drinking quickly, you slapped the money on the table as you walked out, wAnting to get to bed as soon as humanly possible.

The night air was refreshing, and as you looked up at the stars you felt a sense of calming and peace that you haven't known in a while. Maybe things won't be so bad after all, you thought to yourself, and listened to the engine purr as you sped back to the motel.

When you shook your hair free of helmet-hair, you looked at your motel door, quickly realizing that it was cracked ajar. Your eyes immediately scanned the area as your hands flew to the gun you hid in your waistband. You crept to the door as you heard two deep voices talking in your room. Deciding it was time you stepped inside, gun raised in the darkness.

"Who are you and what the fuck are you doing in my room?" You growled, cocking your gun and planting your feet. The two men turned around slowly, hands raised, mouths slightly open as you realized who they were.

"Are you kidding me..." You rolled your eyes and lowered your gun. It was none other that the Winchester brothers. Their eyes were wide, but their breathing started again when they saw your weapon being lowered.

"(Y/n), look we-" Dean started, but you soon interjected.

"Sam, nice to see your alive." You said smiling sourly. His eyes pleaded with yours as you strode to the bed and picked up your bag, finding a tiny bottle of whiskey hidden in the pocket.

"If you could excuse me," you said between gulping the burning liquid. "I will be going now." Turning back to the door, you had barely touched the door handle when a familiar custom handle flew next to your face, skimming your cheek and cutting flesh.

"You've got to be joking, Winchester!" You screamed at Dean, his eyes apologetic as he only meant to get your attention. He quickly put his mask back on and pretended to be unaffected.

"We need you to come back, (y/n). Sam and I.... i'm sorry for the way I've been acting. It was wrong." He said to you as you pulled the knife out of the door.

"You'll have to cuff me again if you think that sorry excuse for an apology is gonna work." You said. Not surprisingly, he sheepishly pulled out a pair of cuffs. Quickly you bolted, but before you knew it, Dean was on top of you, clicked the metal around your wrist, and the other to a bed post. You brandished your knife and pressed it dangerously close to his chest, your eyes filled with fury as Sam pulled his brother back.

Your hands dangerously still, you sat back, leaning your bruised shoulders against the headrest. Your eyes shot daggers into both the Winchesters as they tried persuading you to come back. By the time they had exhausted themselves it was damn near 6 am.

"Please..." Dean and Sam said simultaneously, still begging you till their already gruff voices sounded like sandpaper. You, on the other hand, stood your ground, thinking over their words (but not too much) as you hummed various songs.

As you were humming the chorus to Britney's Toxic, you missed the shorter Winchester stepping out of the room, leaving you with a weary Sam.

"Look, (y/n), I know Dean has been being a real asshole, but he really cares about you. He's trying to push you out of his life because everyone he's gotten close to has died." He sighed. "I know you like him too, or at least you would if you got to know him. Come back, try and break down his walls. You won't regret it." Sam finished, turning to un-cuff you from the bed.

"Were at room 203B, if you decide you want to come back. We're leaving at 4 tomorrow.. or I guess today.. so... please?" He said one more time, before leaving you in a barely lit motel room with nothing but a bruised wrist and your wandering thoughts.

----

Yoooooo sorry I've been inactive lately, winter break started but I have so much work to do 🙃 I'll be writing a lot this week though!!

'Til next time,
The Writer