I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Stay With Me

"You know," he began again, his eyes shifting back to his battered son, a fresh bandage wrapped tightly around his head to make his hair stick up at weird angles. Had he been away, I may have teased him about it. "I saw what you did for him. Shielding him from that truck."

I stiffened, every muscle in my body going rigid. "I wouldn't call it shielding..." I replied softly, raising a shaking hand sheepishly to the back of my neck. "I just... didn't want him to get hurt..." My eyes flickered to Dean's comatose body and I frowned. "... More hurt."

John inhaled deeply and took one of Dean's limp hands in his own, eyes never leaving his son's face. "I wonder... without you looking out for him, I wonder if he would have made it here." His voice trailed off and he gazed at Dean, deep in thought.

"I would have done the same for Sam," I added. "They're family. They mean a lot to me."

"I know," John said, lifting his tired eyes to meet mine. At that moment he looked so much older than he had before. Tired, like everything had been stripped from him piece by piece until he was nothing more than a shell. At that moment, the walls came down and he was nothing more than a broken man, grieving over his injured son. "I know you would. I'm trying to thank you."

My eyes flew open, wide-eyed and startled by his statement. "Oh," I said, struggling to find a response. "I- um..."

"I said- did a lot of things I shouldn't have," he continued, gripping Dean's hands ever so slightly tighter. His heart rate increased, fluttering from his nervousness. "I shouldn't have- you're not..." he paused, also trying to come to terms with his thoughts. "I judge you too harshly. You're not... what I thought you were."

He glanced up, meeting my eyes with a tired, uncertain gaze. His words ricocheted in my mind for several long seconds before they finally sunk in and I understood their meaning. A reassuring grin split across my face, my own heart hammering in my chest. John Winchester was apologizing.

"It's OK, John," I said softly, releasing my arms from the tight, uncomfortable grip I held them in. "Everyone makes mistakes." I had made plenty of mistakes in my lifetime, some of which I wish I had been forgiven. Realistically, I think I had been forgiven – I just never forgave myself. Perhaps this was John's way of beginning to forgive himself too.

His eyes returned to Dean's form and he loosened his grip on his son's hand. He really did care for his sons, both of them, although sometimes he had funny ways of showing it. I could see where he was coming from – he wanted to make sure his boys were prepared because he hadn't been. Prepared to protect themselves, each other, and their loved ones. I knew John would give anything to see Dean make it out of this alright.

"I can see why my boys like you," he said softly, pulling his hand from Dean's. I lifted a brow. "In a way, you remind me of Mary. She was a hard ass and didn't take shit from anyone. But... she was the best friend I could have ever asked for." My heart thumped erratically in my chest, taking in his words.

I took a few steps towards the bed and sat on the edge, towards the end, and took in his hunched form. John was a good man, broken, but good. Maybe it wasn't too late for him.

"You raised some... incredible kids, you know that?" I offered. John chuckled and leaned back in his seat, smiling affectionately at Dean.

"No, they did that themselves. If I could change one thing, I'd change how I raised them... I would have been there for them. A better father." He smiled softly, a look of regret in his brown eyes.

"For what it's worth, John..." I began, clasping my hands in my lap. "I think you were still a good father."

"Yeah..." he sighed. "Maybe..." His eyes flickered up to meet mine, sincere and so very exhausted. I hoped he would take some time to rest before going after this demon again – he deserved a break. "I guess I'll leave you two alone..." he trailed off, standing from his seat. Before I could even think to protest, he was out the door, making his way down the halls back to his room.