Dean One Shots

The Things We Do For Love (little angst, lotta smut)

"He'll never understand. What's more, he'll never forgive me. I knew that when I did this. I just-" you stop, fighting tears again.

Sam hugs you again and you lean into him.

"I just didn't know it would hurt so damn bad." You sob.

He pulls back and takes your chin in your hand, forcing your face up to him. "Y/N. You know you have to tell him. You need to tell him. He may not forgive you, but it'll help him understand. He thinks you did it because you think he's too weak, or that you don't trust him not to flip out and kill us all."

"What? No, I don't think that! I just wanted to spare him some pain. He's done so much for me, for everyone. He didn't need another cross to bear. I swear Sam, I never meant-"

"Y/N." Sam grabs your shoulders. "Tell him, not me. I get why you took the Mark, and I, well, I'm actually grateful."

You blink up at him, surprised. He smiles, and you get what he's saying. He didn't want Dean to bear the Mark either. You hug him again and, taking a deep breath, head towards Dean's room.

~~~~~~~~~~

You raise your hand to knock, but knowing Dean he's sitting on the bed with his headphones in. You push open the door. He's exactly where you thought he'd be, his eyes closed, head resting against the wall. You study him for a moment. He looks tired, almost like he's been crying. He senses you and opens his eyes. They're red, and you realize that he has been crying. Shit. You never wanted that.

"Get out." He says coldly. You shake your head and step into his room, shutting the door behind you. He rolls his eyes.

"Dean." He stares at the wall above your head. You feel a flush of anger. Damn it, he could at least listen to what I have to say. You think to yourself. In a bold move, you stalk to his bed and yank his headphones off his ears, tossing them on the bed.

"I said get out." He repeats.

"I need to talk to you, Dean. We have to talk about this." You plead.

"I don't have a damn thing to say to you. You lied straight to my face and you betrayed me. I don't want an explanation; I just want you to go." He snaps, and you feel yourself tear up yet again.

"Dean, please. Let me explain. I want to tell you why I did this; I need to tell you why I did this. It wasn't to betray you." You hear yourself begging and hate the sound, but you have to make him understand.

"Oh, I know why you did it. You told me when we first met. You don't trust anyone; you don't care about anyone. You thought I couldn't handle the Mark the whole time we talked about me taking it! Well, little girl, what makes you think you can handle it? I'm at least ten times stronger than you, and I have Sam to keep me sane. Who do you have?" he taunts.

His words cut you deeply. He knows he and Sam are all you have, and to throw that in your face is just cruel of him. "Well, I certainly don't have you!" you hiss at him. "The minute someone goes against what the almighty Dean says, you cut them out! No one can question you, huh? You know it all!"

"That's right. You've been hunting for what, a minute? What gives you the right to decide you're more qualified to take the Mark? Who do you think you are?" he demands. He's jumped off the bed and is standing beside it glaring at you, his fists clenched, his face red with rage.

"I'm your friend, Dean! I was trying to help you!" you shout at him. "Help me?" he scoffs. "I seriously doubt that."

"Of course you do! You wanna talk about me not trusting anyone, look at yourself!" you yell back at him.