Supernatural One-Shots (Actors and Characters)

Why Didn't You Just Say So? ~ Dean Winchester

     I was driving down a nearly empty road in my black '64 Dodge Polara when I heard my cell phone ring. Glancing at the passenger seat where it sat, I picked it up and flipped it open with one hand, returning my gaze to the road.
     "Hello?" I asked, turning the radio down. It had been blasting "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor.
     "Hey Mandie, it's Sam," the voice said on the other line. I smiled; it had been a few weeks since I had spoke to him. I knew about what happened with Jessica and how he was back hunting with his brother Dean again.
     I had been raised as a hunter by my father, just like them. Mom had died shortly after giving birth to me. Our father's had hunted together a few time and I always stayed at Bobby's with the Winchester brothers when he was gone, since I was an only child.
     "Hey Sammy, how's it going?" I questioned, knowing that he hated it when I called him that.
     "Look, Mandie. Dean's had a heart attack. The doctor is giving him a few week, a month at most and I need your help," his tone was serious and his words were rushed, letting me know that he wasn't pulling a joke on me. I felt myself freeze so I pulled over. I heard him continue, "I'm not going to let him die like this. There has to be a way to help him and Dad isn't answering his phone."
     "Text me the address, I'm on my way."

     A few hours later, I arrived at the motel Sam was staying it. He had told me that he was there researching any possible ways to help Dean. I looked for the room number he had sent me, knocking on the door once I found it. He let me in, closing the door behind me. He had papers covering the bed around his laptop, leaving only a small place for him to sit. John's journal laid open on the bedside table.
     "Thanks for coming so quick," he said to me, sitting on the bed.
     "Well, you guys saved my ass on more than one occasion, the least I could do is come to help you," I replied, lowering myself onto a chair close by, "have you found anything?"
     "No, not yet," he told me.
     "Let's get a move on then."

     We worked all night. Sam didn't bother to stop for sleep, though I saw him doze of for a few minutes, then wake back up multiple times. I myself did stop for a few hours. I had just finished a hunt and had went almost a week without a proper amount of sleep.
     In the morning, I got dressed and ready for the day, grabbing my coat, which I had discarded after arriving the night before.
     "Where are you going?" Sam looked up at me curiously, his eyes following my every move.
     "I'm going to the hospital," I answered, "you know; to check up on Dean. I'll be back in a while."

     I walked though the halls of the hospital, not liking it one bit. I hated hospitals ever since I was a little girl. I think it was because I knew that death was all around me. In every room, at least one person had died. Even in the hallways, I knew I couldn't escape it's lingering grasp.
     I made it to Dean's room, thankful that I was no longer alone. I mean, there were many people in the halls and in the rooms, but I didn't know any of them and they didn't know me.
     Dean knew me. And I knew him. He was my best friend as a kid. Sure, he had been a pain in the ass, but we had stuck together. We had each other's backs.
     When I walked in, I saw that he was watching TV, flipping through the channels. I never did care much for daytime TV. When he saw me, his face lit up with a grin.
     "Finally! A sight to heal sore eyes."

     I spent most of the day there, just talking with him about nothing in particular, as if he wasn't dying.
     "You know, Sammy's back at the motel looking for a way to help you," I finally said to him. He sighed, though I didn't know if he was tired or annoyed.
     "Is that why he called you? To find a way to cure me?" I nodded, making him continue, "you can't save me, Mandie. Neither can Sam. Most hunters don't live long, you know that just as well as I do."
     He was right. My father's parents, who were hunters, died when Dad was sixteen. They were less than forty years old. And here I am at twenty-five. My father died seven years ago. He was forty-one.
     "Yeah, I know. But do you remember what you told me when I was fifteen?" I asked him, looking him in the eye, "you told me that I should never give up just because someone tells me to," I grabbed one of his hands in both of mine, holding tightly to it, "you told me that I should try every possible way to save someone because that's what this job is about. And believe me, Dean. I'm going to and you have no say in it."

     "I've looked online, I've searched books and I've called nearly all of the numbers in Dad's journal. I don't know what to do," Sam admitted to me once I got back, looking down at his research in sadness.
     "Hey, cheer up Sammy," I told him, smiling gently at him, "We'll look some more and finish calling those numbers. We'll find something, I promise."
     The next day, after staying up all night with Sam, I finally found the solution. "Thanks Joshua," I told the man on the other end of the line, smiling.
     "What is it?" Sam asked, seeing my smiling face.
     "There's a guy up in Nebraska. A specialist. He can heal Dean," I told him happily. I got up and grabbed my coat, heading to the door. Someone knocked on it just before I reached it. I set my coat down and opened the door, shocked at what I saw.
     There was a bent over Dean Winchester, leaning against the doorway.
     "What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked from behind me.
     "I check myself out," he answered, holding onto the TV stand as he entered the room.
     "Are you crazy?" I inquired, helping him stand. He threw his arm around my shoulder, smiling faintly at me.
     "I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot."
     "You know this whole 'I laugh at the face of death' thing?" I said to him, starting to walking him over to a chair, but Sam stopped me, looking Dean in the eye.
     "It's crap," he finished my thought, "we can see right through it." I nodded in agreement, continuing slowly to the chair.
     Dean only shrugged out comment off, "Yeah, whatever. Have you two even slept? You look worse than me."
     "We've been searching the internet and looking through books the last three days," Sam told him. I lowered Dean carefully onto the padded cushion of the chair.
     "We called every contact in your dad's journal," I added, moving to sit next to Sam.
     "For what?"
     "For a way to help you," Sam answered immediately. I explained to him what I had said to Sam minutes before.
     "You're not gonna let me die in peace, are ya?" Dean questioned.
     "I'm not gonna let you die period," I responded, "hey, Sam. Would you mind giving us a minute?" Sam shrugged and left the motel room.
     "Look, Mandie," Dean started, but I cut him off.
     "Don't you dare try to talk me out of this," I warned him. He held up his hands weakly, showing that he surrendered. "You don't get it do you?"
     He seemed confused by my words. "What do you mean?"
     "You are willing to let yourself die, Dean," I pointed out, "Don't you understand that Sam and I aren't going to rest until you're okay? I told you yesterday; we're not gonna give up on you."
     "Why not?" Now it was my turn to be confused.
     "You're his brother, Dean. You're all Sam has," I explained.
     "What about you?"
     "I told you,-"
     "Forget what you said yesterday, Mandie. Tell me the real reason," he interrupted me.
     "Dean, I know you don't like chick flicks. So I'm gonna say this as bluntly as I can. I like you. A lot," I sighed, not meeting his eyes, "It's a pretty shitty time to tell you, but there you go. That's my reason."
     He carefully got up from his chair and sat down beside me.
     "Well, why didn't you just say so?" Without another word, he pressed his lips against mine. It felt as if my head was going to explode. My mind was racing. My heart was pounding rapidly in my chest. He pulled back, "I like you too."