|| edited
- takes place in season 2, ep. 20 -
A sharp movement jostles you out of your slumber and into consciousness. Instinctively, your hand shoots out next to you and you grope blindly through your sheets until your fingers brush your boyfriend's hip.
"Dean?" you mumble drowsily, rolling onto your side to look at him. Your brow dips with worry when you see him sitting up in bed, face dripping with sweat and wide, terrified eyes. Dean never gets scared. You sit up and take his hand in yours. "Are you okay?"
Silently, he brings his free hand to your face and strokes your cheek with the back of his hand.
"(Y/N)," he breathes, sounding almost amazed.
You lean into his touch and laugh softly. "Yes?"
"I... I..." he stutters, seemingly lost for words.
"What's the matter, babe? Did you have a nightmare?" you ask, scooting over to sit in his lap. You glance back at him and see him smile, feel him wrap his arm around your waist.
"Um... something like that," he whispers into the back of your neck.
Hesitantly, Dean's fingers find their way to your hair. He tugs on your locks reverently and you stretch your arm up so you can rest your hand on his cheek.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Dean smiles sadly. "Not really." He gazes fondly down at you for a few moments before his eyes flit to the nightstand where his phone lay. "I need to make a phone call."
"Okay," you yawn. "I'm gonna go back to sleep."
The corner of Dean's mouth twitches upwards. You slide out of his lap and his gaze lingers on you. "Okay." He leans towards the nightstand and picks up the phone. "I... I love you."
You flop backwards against the bed and roll onto your side, your back facing Dean. "Yea, yea," you mumble tiredly, resulting in muffled chuckles from the both of you. You wait for sleep to come, catching little bits of Dean's phone conversations.
"Sammy?"
You're taken by surprise. Dean called Sam? They never spoke anymore. And calling him 'Sammy'? You don't think you've ever heard Dean say that.
"Oh, uh, sorry. Wait, was that Jess?" Dean sounded amazed that Sam's girlfriend might be with him at the late hour.
You make a face in the dark. What an odd conversation.
"I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to wake you up." There's a pause where Sam talks on the other line. "Mom? Her... birthday?" Another pause. "Yeah. We'll see you tomorrow. For... mom's birthday. Bye." Dean hangs up the phone and you don't feel him move for a few minutes.
"Mom's birthday," he whispers to himself.
By now, the tiredness is catching up to you and you're teetering on the line of conscious and not. Dean leans over you, whispering to you, "I'm going to my Mom's house. Okay?"
"Okay," you murmur, and you drift to sleep before Dean can even get out of the bed.
-|-
The next morning, you immediately head to Mary's house, remembering that Dean had gone there earlier in the night. You open her front door, habit after your earlier days in the family when she used to always insist that you make yourself at home. You smile when you see Dean happily munching away on a sandwich at the kitchen table.
"Best. Sandwich. Ever," he moans, and this time you really do laugh.
"Looks like that sandwich is giving me a little competition," you joke, sliding into the chair next to him. Dean puts down the sandwich, much to your surprise, and puts his hands around your waist, pulling you off of your chair and into his lap. He then reaches his arm around you, picks up his sandwich, and continues eating.
"Are you still jealous?"
You giggle in response and drape your wrist over his shoulder. Something feels different about him today. It feels the way your relationship did in the beginning, unable to keep your hands to yourself, both of you absolutely thrilled just to be in the other's presence.
"I love you," you tell him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and sliding out of his lap.
"Hey!" he protests with a smile.
"I'm going to help your mom around the house," you say just as Mary enters the kitchen.
"Thank God!" Mary cries, feigning distress. "Too bad Dean doesn't have that mentality."
Dean rolls his eyes and puts down his sandwich. "I saw that lawn needed some mowin'," he observes. "I'll head out there if you want."
Mary shrugs and laughs. "I'm not stopping you."
-|-
You pad down the front porch steps, two chilly glasses of lemonade in each hand. You stand on the cement path, waiting for Dean to bring the lawnmower to you. He guides the lawnmower down the yard and stops it next to you.
"I brought lemonade," you sing with a smile, handing one to Dean. He grins back at you and slings his free arm across your shoulders.
"Look at us, huh?" he says proudly, nudging your face with his nose. "I'm mowin' the lawn in a nice, suburban neighborhood crawling with little kids; you're bring me friggin' lemonade. We're together, and happy. Never thought we coulda had this life."
You cock your head at him, confused. "Why?"
Dean returns your look of surprise. "Our jobs."
"Dean, how does being a mechanic and a kindergarten teacher affect having a family?"
Dean's eyes widen and he looks away nervously. "They don't, I, uh, I just... I'm, uh, amazed that we've settled down, in a sense. Never thought I'd be the type, ya know?"
You offer him a half-smile. "Trust me, I know. Part of why I was so hesitant to start dating was because I didn't think I'd get anywhere with you."
Dean grins and plants a firm kiss on your lips, and the taste of lemonade lingers. "If you were anyone else, you wouldn't have."
-|-
A waiter sets a plate of asparagus before Dean.
"Wow. That looks... awesome," Dean says uncertainly, resulting in laughs from you, Mary, and Jess. Only Sam seems unamused, uncomfortable in the presence his unruly brother.
"All right," says Sam uneasily. Stronger, he adds, "To mom!"
"Happy birthday!" chimes everyone at the table, clinking the rims of their glasses together, creating a small melody.
"Thank you," Mary says quietly, beaming. You grin at her gorgeous smile. You hadn't seen her this happy, truly happy, since John died. You know that Dean will be pleased at the sight and look over at him. You see him smiling sadly and grab his hand underneath the table.
"Are you okay?" you murmur to him.
"Um.. yeah. I'm fine. Just, uh... dad's death, you know. It's been hard." He casts another sad look towards his mother. "Especially for Mom."
"I know," you say sympathetically, resting your hand on his forearm. "But I can help cheer you up later..."
Dean smirks. "I love you so much right now."
"All right," calls Sam, again earning the attention of everyone at the table. "Jess and I actually have another surprise for mom's birthday. Uh..." He looks to Jess. "You want to tell them?"
"They're your family," Jess points out shyly now that all eyes are on her.
"All right," says Sam, his grin growing wider.
"What?" questions Mary with an excited smile. "Tell me what?"
Sam lifts Jess's hand and the light catches on one of the faces of the beautiful diamond that now lives banded on Jess's finger. You gasp in delight.
"Oh my God!" exclaims Mary as she rises from her seat to take Jess in for a hug. "That's so wonderful!"
"Thank you!" Jess sighs.
"Congratulations!" you say with a smile, rising from the table as well, Dean following suit.
"Thanks, (Y/N)," Sam says, returning your grin. Mary approaches her son and wraps him into a hug.
"I wish your dad was here," she murmurs.
"Yeah, me too," says Sam.
You, Jess, and Mary launch into wedding talk; you steal occasional glances at Dean. You smile watching him talk to Sam, the brother he's been separated from for so long. You frown when a strange look crosses his face and he pushes past Sam. He walks briskly to the corner of the restaurant, but then stops. He turns around to face your and his family's curious stares.
"I thought I saw someone," he mumbles in dismissal. Sam and Jess sink to the table and pick up their utensils, not really concerned with Dean's outburst. You and Mary exchange a worried look you sit at the table and begin to eat.
-|-
Dean mashes his fingers against the buttons on the TV remote, surfing through the channels. He takes a swig of his beer and stops on a news channel.
"And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424," reports a news anchor. Dean furrows his brow and squints at the TV.
"What?" he wonders aloud.
"I know," you sigh, remembering the day you first heard of the disaster. You had been so lucky. So many people had lost loved ones in that crash, but your friends and family had all been safe. "I can't believe it's been a year either. It was so tragic."
"Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the 108 passengers and crew who lost their lives," continues the anchor.
"I stopped that crash," Dean mutters.
You have to laugh at that. "You did what? I didn't know I was dating a modern-day Clark Kent."
Dean ignores you and reaches for his laptop on the coffee table. "I gotta see something."
You watch in confusion as your boyfriend Googles a series of freak accidents, including comatose children, a little girl drowning in a hotel pool, various homicides, mutilations, and multiple other horrifying news articles.
"Dean!" you exclaim, horrified at the tragedies he's pulling up. "What is all that?"
He looks up from the laptop, but something catches his eye before he can answer. He pushes the computer out of his lap and leaps up from the couch, rushing into your bedroom.
"Dean?" you add, quieter. You're beginning to worry about the strange patterns in his behavior from the last few days. You rise from the couch and follow him. You find him perched on the edge of your bed, frowning. "You okay?"
"Something's wrong," he mutters.
You feel a twinge of worry. "It's okay, Dean. How about we change and go to bed?"
His worried expression melts when he looks at you. "Okay," he agrees reluctantly.
You pull open the door to your closet and your eyes widen in terror. You try to scream, but it just gets caught in your throat. Your hand flies to your mouth and you stumble away from the closet.
"(Y/N)?" Dean asks urgently, rushing over to you. You take deep, ragged breaths and point to the closet. He follows your finger and shakes his head when he sees what frightened you. "Oh God. Oh God, no." He wraps his hands around your shoulders, pulling you away from the two, deteriorating bodies dangling from the ceiling of your closet by nooses. "(Y/N), we've got to get out of here."
He takes a few looks around the room before kneeling down next to the bed and pulling a suitcase out from under it. He begins rummaging through his drawers and occasionally tosses articles of clothing into the case. "Pack," he commands, and although you're scared numb, you obey. Within a few minutes, avoiding your closet, of course, you've gathered everything you might want.
"Let's go," Dean says, heaving up your suitcase along with his and lugging them out of the house. You quietly follow, rushing before him to open the front door. You help him toss the cases into the trunk of the Impala and you slide into the passenger seat. Dean raises his hand to force the key into ignition, but you use yours to block it.
"Dean, we're not going anywhere until you explain this," you say firmly, finally a little less shaken from what you'd witnessed.
As much as you want him to tell him that he had no clue what was going on either, he only sighs. "I never thought I'd be giving you this speech, (Y/N)."
You close your eyes and the tears you didn't know you were holding back slide down your face. "I didn't want you to say that."
"I know," he whispers, his voice catching. You realize that he's crying too. "I wanted to keep you innocent. Pure. You're so happy in this life." You hold your breath, not knowing what to expect next.
"I'm a hunter, (Y/N). Except I don't hunt for shit like Bambi. I hunt more along the lines of Casper. And in real life, Casper's a hell of a lot worse. The monsters in your closet, the horrors you read about in Goosebumps as a kid- they're all real. And I kill 'em."
You nod. Even though you should think it's crazy, you can't help but believe him. This is Dean. You've trusted him for years. And you trust him on this.
"So what's the case now?"
Dean grins. "Makes sense that you're a great hunter in every life."
You smile wearily as Dean laces his fingers in yours. "Right now, I'm hunting a djinn. Or, I was. They capture humans and feed off of them, all while they have the humans in a dream where their greatest wish comes true until the djinn sucks everything out of them. I think it captured me, and now I'm living out my wish."
"And what's that?"
Dean's expression darkens. "That Mom never died."
A sickening twist occurs in your stomach. Mary? Dead? You don't even want to think about it. "What's gonna happen if you find the djinn?"
Dean looks at his lap guiltily. "I don't know."
You purse your lips. He knows, and so do you. "Mary's gonna die, isn't she?"
"And Jess..." Dean finishes the sentence, but there's something unsaid that still hangs in the air. "But this world isn't real, and I need to go back to reality to I can save more people."
You squeeze his hand. "I understand."
He smiles hesitantly and turns the key in the ignition. "Guess we're going to Mom's, then."
-|-
Forty minutes later, Dean jumps back into the Impala, a bag of silver slung across his shoulder.
"I've got the silver, but I feel like I'm forgetting something..."
The back door opens and Sam slides in. "I'm coming with you."
"Dammit! That's what it is," Dean curses, turning around to face his brother. "No. You're not coming."
"You told him?" you ask Dean, frustrated.
"He walked in on me," Dean grumbles.
"You're about to do something stupid, and I'm not letting you do it alone," says Sam firmly.
"I'm not alone," Dean points out, gesturing to you. "I have (Y/N)."
"So you're gonna put (Y/N) in danger?"
"She knows what she's doing," Dean shoots back.
"Uh, actually, I don't," you say.
"I've seen you in action. It's an instinct you have. Sammy was trained."
"Would you stop calling me Sammy?" Sam explained from the backseat. "Look, I'm coming, and that's that."
Dean frowns at the wheel. "There's no gettin' you out of this car, is there?"
"Nope," said Sam smugly.
Dean locks his jaw. "Fine," he growls and turns on the car.
Sam smiles victoriously and Dean drives off silently into the night.
-|-
About twenty minutes into the ride, Sam starts to ask questions.
"Where are we going?"
No answer.
"Who are you selling the silver to?"
"Not sellin' it, Sammy," answers Dean, staring at the road ahead.
"Don't call me that. What's in this bag?" Sam holds up a brown paper bag that he found in the backseat. This question catches Dean's attention. He looks at his brother through the rearview mirror and smiles.
"You don't wanna know."
"Fine," says Sam haughtily, pulling the bag open. His face pales and he pulls out a Tupperware of blood. "What the hell is this?"
You wrinkle your nose, but otherwise don't react. Dean already explained this part to you.
"Blood," says Dean simply.
"Yeah, I know that, Dean, what the hell is it doing here?"
"I need it."
"That's it," says Sam, beginning to dig through his pockets. He pulls out his cell phone and begins dialing. You and Dean exchange a look. Holding your gaze, he begins to crank down his window.
You reach to the backseat and snatch Sam's cell.
"Hey!" he protests, but it's too late. You toss the phone to Dean, who flings it out the window. "That's my phone!"
"I'm not goin' to a rubber room, Sammy," Dean tells him.
"This is insane," mutters Sam, sinking lower into his seat. You glance at Dean and can't help but smile.
Everything about the scene- teasing Sam, the fear and excitement of the upcoming "hunt" as Dean called it- even though it was terrifying, it also felt... right, somehow. Like in another life, this is what you three were destined to be.