Wish I Was the One

Mine

When Dean left the Bunker after his fight with Sam, he drove around for a while. He was driving through town, when he caught sight of his little brother walking down the street with a few bags in hand. He pulled Baby to the curb and watched as Sam, found a car and easily popped open the door. Messing with the wires until it roared to life and he could hop inside. Dean realized that he was going to meet up with Y/N. His Y/N.

Feeling himself growing angry at the thought, he makes a rash decision to follow Sam. Keeping a few cars between them, but still able to keep eyes on the car he had stolen. For two hours, Dean allowed him to obsess over every worst-case scenario between them. He didn't believe for a second that things were as simple as Sam told him, they were. He knew they were sleeping together. Believing that Y/N never meant the words she had said to him. She didn't love him. She just wanted to move from one brother to the other. Good thing Adam was still locked in the cage, or else she would finish up with Sam quickly and go for him too.

By the time that Sam pulled off the exit and pulled into a motel parking lot, Dean was shaking with rage. He pulls the sleek black vehicle to the side of the road, hidden in the dark. Watching Y/N smile down at his brother as the talked, just made him grow sick. He watches her go back in her room for a minute as Sam piles his bags in the trunk of her car, before she climbs down the stairs to greet the 6'4" giant with a hug. They talk for another minute before climbing in their cars and pulling out of the lot.

He follows them through town, watches Sam dump the stolen car and climb in Y/N's truck. Follows them to a diner, where he parks his own car in a dark alley across the street and watches as they find a booth in the corner. Watches as Sam stares at her, like she was the most precious thing in the world. Which she was, but she wasn't for Sam. She was Dean's. As pissed as he was at her, she was still the most important thing in his life. He would go to the ends of the Earth for her. He would kill for her.

He watches them talking, watches the conversation turn serious and Y/N begins to cry, putting her face in her hands. He almost climbs out of Baby and storms through the diner with guns blazing. He would kill for her. He would kill for her. He would kill for her. Even if it was his own brother, he would kill for her. He's pissed that his brother made her cry. He's even more pissed when he sees Sam comfort her. Reaching across the table to touch her. He feels his breathing growing heavy. Not his to touch. Not his to touch. Dean's gripping the steering wheel so tight, he feels like it will crumble in his hands. He almost rips it out of place, when he sees Sam stand up and move to Y/N's side of the booth to sit with her and pulls her close to his side. Not his to touch. Not his to touch. Not his to touch.

He would kill for her. Kill anyone who touches her. Even if it's his own brother. He would kill for her. Not his to touch. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Seething, he starts the engine of the Impala and pulls out of the alley. Heading back to the motel that she's staying at, he parks around back. He climbs the stairs and heads to the door he saw her come in and out of. Picking the lock, quickly and quietly, he pushes the door open. He shuts the door and stands in the dark for moment. Chest heaving with anger. Flipping on the lights, he sees her things scattered around the room. He spots her bags in the corner and walks over to them. Pulling a few pieces of clothes out and bringing them to his nose, smelling her.

Rrrriiiiiiiiippppp

Pulling more clothes out, he does the same thing. And again. And again. And again. Until her bags are empty. He moves towards the bathroom, where he finds her soaps and hair-care. He pulls his knife out from his boot. Stabbing each bottle multiple times, watching as their insides fell out. He turns to the mirror, Smashing it with one solid punch. Satisfied when pieces fall and shatter to the ground. He moves back into the room and sees the single bed. Stabbing the pillows and shredding them apart. Feathers everywhere. Throwing the blankets and sheets on the floor. Slicing the mattress and pulling the springs out. Tossing the bedside lamp to the ground, watching the lights dim.

He looks around the room at the damage he's done. Spotting the innocent television across from the best, he walks over, swipes it to the ground, and stomps it, feeling it smash under his boot. Breathing heavy, he gives the room a final look, not feeling satisfied enough. He spots the wall above the bed. Stalking over, he runs the knife over the palm of his hand and begins to write on the wall, using the blood spilling from his hand. He writes just one word.

Mine.

When he's finished, he leaves the room and the mess he made, behind him. Closing the door once more, as though he had never been there. All the while, the silhouette of a woman hides in the shadows, basking in the obsession and jealousy that she has brought forth inside of the man.