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stusbunker · 2 months

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Spotless: Pomposo

Chapter Fourteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, Dean/Jo, John/Kate, Adam, Ellen, Garth/Bess (in passing), Cas and Mary (mentioned)

Word Count: 4559

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining. MORE BACKSTORY AHEAD, story takes place currently in Dec 2017, flashback to Jan. 2004 in italics, talk of Sam's past use of hard drugs, hangovers, vomit, car accidents, injuries, character death, guilt, John was not so great a parent or husband, some paraphrasing of last chapter unbeta'd

Special shout out to @thoughtslikeaminefield who helped immensely on sorting out the backstory for this chapter too, way back when I started outlining this thing.

Series Masterlist

Sam settled on some old school soul music to start their road trip and Dean couldn’t even come up with a reason to complain. Aretha sang in the background and they headed east, the world was their oyster and all that. Dean held onto the small bit of smug satisfaction from the interview with Meg as the city disappeared behind them. She really wanted him to crack, but he hadn't and that gave him some hope for going home.

They veered north for a bit and continued on I-40 until they hit Flagstaff. Dean liked the mountains, the air was infinitely better than LA and there was something about spending the holidays where it got cold that made sense. Unfortunately, it was just an overnight stay. How they managed a room in the first hotel they tried, he’d never know. He just shuffled in with his duffel bag and his ball cap over his now sleep-sloppy hair. There was a player-piano in the lobby and Dean had the fleeting thought about how Cas was spending the holidays.

Maybe he’d try and leave him another message, it had been months.

Sam called Madison after dinner and Dean decided to check out the amenities in order to not have to watch Sam get all goopy. Dean hadn’t packed a bathing suit, but a gym’s a gym even if it’s just three treadmills, a stair climber and free weights. So, he jogged for a little bit, watching whatever passed for news. He forgot his earbuds in the room and it really wasn’t worth going back for, he was finding his groove even without music as a buffer to the world around him.

After a solid 5k, Dean stepped down to stretch. Which worked out because a couple in their fifties came in just as he started some curls, leaving the treadmills open for their evening stroll. They talked about their family, the wife explaining what she got each of their grandchildren and where they were supposed to be on which day. Perfectly normal people conversation, but something about it made Dean sad, so he tried to tune them out and focus on his reps.

Part of his life after Cain and Alistair was a loss of gym time. Sure, he could work out at home or even do laps around the neighborhood, but it wasn’t the hours in the ring or at the bag or with a jump rope full-body-punishment that he had worked himself up to. It was also a lot more peaceful, less reactionary. And Dean decided he would find a balance between stagnation and self-destruction. Twenty eighteen was just around the corner afterall.

Dean got back to the room in time to shower and crash. If they wanted to push it, they could make it to their Dad’s place the next day. But neither of them were in a hurry, even in Sam’s fuckboy Charger it was nice to be on the road together. Dean took the first stretch towards Albuquerque, but Sam called it in Santa Fe. He had thought ahead and booked them a hotel instead of chancing it again, which surprised Dean for some reason. Sam had gone and gotten to be responsible while Dean was busy fishing himself out of professional purgatory.

“You talk to Bela?” Sam asked as they waited for their pizza to be delivered.

“Uh, she texted me that she landed at Heathrow, but not really. Why?” Dean asked after taking a sip of his beer.

“Wasn’t sure if you guys were doing the whole gift exchange thing,” Sam shrugged. “Madison made me wait until after we get back to give her hers.”

Dean chuckled. “I don’t want to know what you’re giving her, alright?”

Sam rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the innuendo. “Won’t people be asking about what you got her?”

Dean hadn’t really thought about it. “I guess I could ask Trouble for some ideas, see if she thinks it’s necessary we post about it. I don’t know, I was kind of hoping of forgetting about the whole thing until New Year’s at Elizabeth’s, you know?”

Sam leveled Dean with a glare. “You know Dad is gonna ask to meet her.”

Dean set down his beer. “Well it’s a good thing she’s halfway across the world then.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Mom loved that show,” Sam said thoughtfully.

He was right. Dean had completely forgotten about why he’d recognized Bela the first time they’d met at your housewarming party way back when. But, yeah, Mary had watched ‘Red Sky in the Morning’ every Tuesday night after she put them to bed. Once Dean reached junior high, he was able to persuade her to let him stay up and watch too.

“I can’t believe it was on as long as it was, it was fucking awful,” Dean said playfully.

“Yeah, but it was her escape,” Sam added gently.

Dean took a long pull off his beer. “I guess so.”

When Sam went to meet the delivery driver, Dean turned on the television, banking on some sort of Christmas special to take his mind off memory lane. They ate quietly, letting last minute sales commercials drown out their thoughts. Tomorrow they were going home, or as close to it as they had outside of LA. Dean felt lopsided over getting to see Adam, having to navigate his dad, and tiptoeing Kate’s well-meaning but invasive nature.

But that’s family for you, nothing more important than that.

Dean rolled over on the couch, something had woken him up and he was too hungover to let it win. But it didn’t stop, a trilling sound coming from his pants pocket, fuck, it was his phone. He cracked one eye open and checked the caller id.

He closed his eyes and answered. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Dean Winchester?” a harried voice asked, decidedly not Jo.

“Ellen?”

“Yeah, listen— there’s been an accident. Jo and Y/N were T-boned on Hound Drive last night. Can you come to the hospital? I just came home for a change of clothes, but I’m heading back there now.”

Dean sat up, liquor and a headache dulling his reflexes. “Ellen? What are they saying?”

“She’s in the ICU. I— we need you there.”

Terror flooded Dean’s system, churning with a relentless guilt. Jo wouldn’t have been out so late if it wasn’t to see him. He swallowed. “Uh, of course. Do you want me to drive you? I can be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll pick you up. I’ve got my truck, the roads are still a mess.”

“Right, okay, I’m at Dad and Kate’s— do you–”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Ellen? Be careful.”

“Don’t you start young man.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ellen hung up.

Dean stumbled into the bathroom and threw up. He didn’t have time for a shower. Instead he grabbed his shaving kit and threw on a fresh layer of deodorant and brushed his teeth. He pounded three Advil with the water from one of those flowery Dixie cups Kate kept in a plastic dispenser on the counter. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, he knew how bad he must look. He stomped back into the living room and swapped his sweaty flannel for one that smelled neutral from his duffel. Adam showed up as Dean was shoving his boots on.

“Dean? Can I put on cartoons?”

He didn’t jump, Dean didn’t get scared of six-year-olds in footie pajamas. He was just on edge, was all.

“Knock yourself out,” Dean said.

“Where are you going?” Adam asked, stealing the afghan Dean had left on the floor.

“Uh, friend of mine had an accident, so I’m heading to the hospital. Can you tell Dad? I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“You can tell me yourself,” John’s voice pressed in behind Dean as he came in from the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.

“Dad—,” Dean looked at his father, a man who had been on the road cheating on his mother for years. The same mother who died in a fire because John couldn’t bother to make sure to keep the electrical in their shitty double wide up to code. “It’s Jo. Ellen’s gonna take me to the hospital. Dad, I—”

John’s entire stance changed. “Go. Call when you know something. I’ll send Sammy when he’s up, he’ll know what to do.”

They both knew Sam couldn’t stop whatever was happening, but he’d keep Dean from causing a scene.

A car honked in the driveway.

“I gotta go. Thanks,” Dean brushed past his dad without even a glance at Adam.

Dean wouldn’t let Ellen drive, even hungover he trusted himself behind the wheel more than a desperate mother. She only pretended to argue before sliding across the bench seat and letting him in. The roads were a mess. In the thirty minute drive to the hospital, Dean saw another two cars in the ditch. Though, it was clear now in the morning sunshine, everything was blinding in its whiteness.

“Listen, you shut up and keep your head down. Let me do the talking,” Ellen warned him as they approached the reception desk.

“Hi, I’m Ellen Harvelle, I’m here to see my daughter Joanna? This is her fiance.”

Dean squirmed, but nodded at the nurse who looked at him like she wanted to reach over and hug him. “Of course, right this way.”

She led Dean and Ellen down a hushed hallway, the beeping of machines and huffing of ventilators the only sounds escaping the doorways as they passed. Dean looked around for a trash can, the painkillers in his stomach threatening to come back up. Ellen took his hand and pulled him into a room.

Jo was hooked up to more machines than should have fit in the tiny room. Her hair was matted with blood and she was drowning in the hospital gown. Her beautiful face was swollen and red, the bruises still forming where she hit the passenger side window— or maybe that was the dashboard, Dean couldn’t tell she was so misshapen.

“Oh, Jo,” Dean’s voice broke. He stopped himself from saying anything as the nurse talked, but all he wanted to do was sob.

He didn’t realize he had let go of Ellen’s hand until he was clenching the rail along Jo’s bedside. Ellen stood on the other side of her, carefully brushing the hair out of Jo’s beaten face. Her one arm was framed in a metal fixator, skin angry from where the bone sliced her open from the inside. Her leg was in a brace, but at least that meant those bones were more salvageable.

“What happened?” Dean said eventually, unsure of when the nurse left. He eyed the machines tracking Jo’s heart rate, but he wasn’t sure if the readings were good or bad.

“Someone was driving on the wrong side of the road— couldn’t see the lines and Y/N swerved to miss them, they spun out and the other car didn’t stop. They took her to surgery– her right knee was shattered.”

“Jo took the brunt of it,” Dean stated the obvious, still too terrified to reach out and touch Jo. She was suddenly so very fragile.

Ellen sniffed.

“They are watching for internal bleeding before they’ll operate. Her brain—," Ellen couldn’t finish.

“Hey,” Dean rushed around the bed and pulled Ellen against his chest, finally giving his hands something to do. “They’re doing everything they can.”

“It’s not enough,” Ellen argued.

“I know,” Dean agreed, squeezing her tighter.

Ellen pulled back and wiped her eyes, muttering to herself about going soft. Dean needed to give her a moment, hell, he needed a minute to catch his breath. He told her he was going to find coffee and she told him they had a waiting area down the hall. He nearly ran out of Jo’s room.

He checked his watch, it was just after ten o’clock. And as exhausted and hungover as Dean felt, he was pretty sure Ellen hadn’t slept at all after closing the bar. He wondered if she’d even made it home before getting the call. He found the coffee maker and pushed a button for something hot and thin and caffeinated. He wondered if Y/N had passed a breathalyzer, knowing how much Jo had been drinking didn’t make him certain her driver was much better off.

He was gonna be sick again.

He left the paper cup on the grate and fell into one of the stiff plastic chairs around the small table. He put his head between his knees and breathed, resting on his elbows. Dean counted the flecks in the white linoleum squares beneath his feet.

Nothing made sense. They were just getting started. Last night there was the impossible giddiness of seeing her in person after so long and now the unabashed horror of her mother sneaking him into the hospital as her fiance so he could see her before…

She was eighteen-fucking-years-old and he was going to lose her.

And it was all his fault.

He stared at the floor until he couldn’t anymore. The coffee was nothing more than a passing burn on the way to his knotted stomach. But he couldn’t stop the tears and he wouldn’t go back to Ellen until they were dry, she needed him to be better than that. When he couldn’t cry anymore and after he used his last single for a pack of peanut M&Ms, Dean went back to Jo’s room.

Ellen was asleep in an ugly mauve chair with her hand clutching Jo’s good ankle over the thin hospital blanket. Dean found another blanket from a CNA and tucked it around Ellen’s shoulders. He stood guard, through Ellen’s brief nap and the three o’clock shift change, even after Sam came by with lunch but left because he wasn’t allowed on the ward.

The seizures started around five and Ellen and Dean were asked to wait outside. Before six, she was wheeled away from them into emergency surgery and by seven she was gone. Dean had to hold Ellen back from slugging the surgeon. He caught her when she finally sank into reality, and somehow Dean found more tears.

Nothing felt real, least of all Dean himself.

Adam looked Dean in the eye and grinned.

“Get over here you little shit, I told you to stop growing the last time I saw you didn’t I?” Dean hugged his youngest brother hard, thumping him on the back as he rocked from foot to foot. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too,” Adam grunted out before Dean could release him.

Then came John, waiting for Dean as he walked through the front door. They didn’t say anything, just gave each other the once over and went in for the hug. John held him tight until he cleared his throat, stepping away from the vulnerable moment. Sam came in with his bags and hugged Kate first, who had been waiting in the hallway to the kitchen.

“Sammy,” John said, holding out his arms.

“Hey Dad,” Sam hugged with genuine warmth on his face, Dean never thought he’d see the day. But time does things to a person, and forgiveness was always Sam’s superpower.

“You boys hungry? I can reheat dinner, I know you’ve been on the road, wasn’t sure when you’d get in,” Kate offered as Dean went in for the obligatory hug. She had colored her hair, instead of her natural blonde it was a mature auburn, covering the gray and giving her a different air.

“Don’t worry about us, we can scavenge for something later,” Dean assured her. “I like your hair.”

That startled her. “Oh! Thank you, yeah I just figured I’d do something different for winter, you know.”

“Don’t she look good? I told her redheads are feisty,” John teased, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Gross,” Adam called on the way to the basement, where Sam had headed down to watch him finish his game.

“Beer?” John offered and Dean gladly accepted.

Arriving three days early was pushing their luck, Dean knew that, but there was nothing keeping him in LA. And after the novelty of catching up and last minute shopping in the tiny downtown of Mills’ Crossing, there wasn’t much more small talk to be had.

Naturally, John started it. But it was over Sam that had Dean’s hackles up first. They were sitting down for a late lunch, having gone to church as a family for the first time since Kate and John got married when John made a comment about it was good to see Sam’s forearms ‘healthy’.

What he meant was he was proud of Sam for kicking his habit, for staying clean. What John didn’t know was that Sam was so good at hiding it, Dean had to check between his toes before he finally got him into rehab the last time. Seven years since Sam had kicked it and John still needed to point it out.

The jam session that night seemed to clear the air. Adam had decided he was a drummer sometime after Dean and Sam’s first platinum album so John built him an entire soundproof room in the basement to go wild. Which meant the Winchester men were a full four piece, if they got to pick their parts. Dean abstained from playing lead because it was John’s house after all, but the old man’s hands weren’t what they used to be. And that gave Dean a little bit of satisfaction.

They rolled through the classics, even playing a couple of Phantom Traveler’s songs that didn’t rely too much on the keys. Dean made John sing though, laughing when he made up his own lyrics.

They ended the night with a drunken, almost punk rendition of Jingle Bell Rock after which Kate shut the lights out on them and told them to go to bed.

Christmas Eve was boring, Dean had gotten stir crazy and kept checking his phone. He knew you had gotten in the night before, but he couldn’t justify trying to hang out while you had such little time with your family as it was. Sam gave him a look and they started playing poker, teasing Adam that he needed to know every version of the game if he was gonna hold his own one day.

Kate wiped the floor with them all.

They had eggnog and exchanged one round of gifts before going to bed, no expectations of Santa Claus or any set wake up time scheduled. It was just another day. Dean barely slept, anxiety churning inside him. He tried meditating. He even prayed, but God, who was understandably busy that night, didn’t save him. Because he woke up with a bug up his ass and, naturally, his father was the first one to point it out.

“You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?” John asked after Dean cursed at Adam’s obnoxious ringtone.

“Do a lot more with it than that,” Dean muttered before he could stop himself.

“Dean Winchester,” John snapped as if Dean was still sixteen, still living under his roof.

“Oh, come on, kids in college, he’s heard worse,” Dean griped, going back to his coffee.

It all went downhill from there. Naturally, Adam got the lion’s share of gifts. Sam and Dean didn’t need anything, but it was so uneven it looked like John and Kate didn’t even remember they were coming to visit. Meanwhile, John’s plasma screen had arrived two days earlier and Sam and Dean were tasked with installing it in the living room midmorning.

Nothing says family time like manual labor and micromanagement.

Dean started drinking before Kate had taken the ham out of the oven. And while Sam wasn’t exactly keeping track, Dean felt like he was asking for whatever bitchface he got next. He just couldn’t stop himself once he started snarking.

Adam was telling them about the musical composition class he had finished and how he had written something for a string quartet.

“Our new keyboard player went to Julliard, you should send it to him,” Dean said off the cuff, before shoving some venison sausage in his mouth from the snack trays Kate put out.

“So you upgraded from Cas officially now?” John asked suspiciously.

“Dad, Cas left the band last spring, of course we made it official,” Sam cut in. John already knew this.

“I know, I just hoped you boys would work it out.”

Dean laughed darkly. “Nothing to work out. Dude left, we moved on.”

“And why did he leave exactly?” John goaded Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes, John was one to talk. He had pissed off half of all musicians between the Rockies and New Orleans before he hung it up.

“Let’s call it the Winchester temper and leave it at that,” Dean smiled without teeth, then popped more snacks into his mouth.

“Yeah, cuz the Campbell blood held only saints,” John muttered.

“Dad!” Sam admonished.

“That’s fucking rich! Talking about her when she’s not here to call you on your shit. I fucking punched Cas, alright?! You happy?! And who, DAD, taught me how to do that? Huh? Winchester temper. Not Campbell. That one was all from you.”

John stepped into Dean’s space, but spoke to Sam. “Sam, take your brother outside for a walk to cool down before dinner.”

Sam grunted in confirmation.

“Watch how you talk to me in my own home, Dean. Or I’ll show you a Winchester temper,” John said lowly. “You understand?”

Dean rolled his shoulders and looked his father in the eye. “Who exactly paid for this house again, Dad? Yeah, I’ll talk to you how you deserve it. I’m out of here.”

Dean felt Adam watching from the corner as Kate pulled John out of the kitchen and into their bedroom to give him a piece of her mind. Sam nodded at their younger brother, silently thanking him for holding down the fort as Dean stormed out the front door.

The Roadhouse was blissfully the same, with only a handful of beaten down cars in the parking lot. Dean had spent enough Christmases at bars or taverns throughout his life, but now he just wanted something that felt like home to get through this tightness in his chest. What they found inside was something altogether more special.

Ellen’s entire face lit up as they walked in, an empty plate in front of her and Garth manning the food line. Dean got his hug in first, but Sam took his time asking about what was going on. Then you were there, and Dean felt a hot shame creep up because he was this close to falling into old patterns. And that wasn’t how he ever wanted you to see him. He zipped his lips, pleading with himself to get a handle on his temper already.

He felt you breathe him in, the truth was never hard for you to suss out. And yet Dean held on, needing you close, being stupid and selfish as ever.

They took their free meal and ducked into a corner, watching as Ellen played angel to the downtrodden of Boone county. Slowly, Dean was able to set his shit aside. With Sam talking about anything and everything across from him; he accepted his resentment for his father, his frustration at himself and the stupid fucking feelings he had for you. It all seemed much more manageable when faced with people who had to get over much bigger obstacles with so much less. There was one more thing he promised he’d do while he was home, now that he’d visited Ellen. And he double checked that Sam was still good to go with him, to be his chauffeur.

They helped clean up, though Ellen moved a mile a minute and did tasks faster than she could explain them. And then Ellen was handing you off like a Christmas present, one that Dean couldn’t ever accept.

Ellen said her goodbyes and left Dean standing in the parking lot without much of a guess on what you wanted to do next.

“I guess we better get going,” he said, asking Sam more than anything.

Then Sam reminded Dean about the cemetery and a new wave of guilt seeped into Dean’s stomach. When it came to Jo, you had first dibs. She was your best friend and Dean’d be damned if he’d visit her without you getting a chance to too. As macabre as it was, he felt he owed it to you.

You looked like you were going to be ill.

“Maybe we should ask her if she wants to go,” he told Sam, searching your eyes for permission at the very least.

You took your time with the idea, but turned him down. “If it’s okay, would you mind dropping me off first? I know it’s in the other direction.”

Dean felt you sinking behind a wall the further they got from the Roadhouse, you asked questions and made conversation, but you weren’t really in it. He probably shouldn’t have brought up Jo, but with Ellen and Christmas and the Roadhouse, she was already everywhere anyway.

They let you out at your parents’ and headed back across town. The streets were almost empty with the sacredness of the holiday. The cemetery was decorated in pine wreaths and cheap red ribbons. The narrow paths were silent beneath their feet. Dean had thought he knew what he wanted to say when he decided to take this little side quest to see Jo.

What he said once Sam was safely back inside the Charger was something else entirely.

“So, I’ve been better. Not like I’m bad now, but I’ve been doing actually better. I was a mess for a long time. And not just from you, but a lot of shit. And last year, I guess earlier this year really, I kind of imploded. I started hurting people, like actually hurting them and justified it to myself somehow. Then I pushed Cas away from helping me, after breaking his nose. And well, the bands a lot different now. But we’re still doing it.

Look, Jo, I know you wanted me to live my dreams and see the world. Things I always wish you could have done. But sometimes dreams are regular everyday things, like bringing home pie or having somebody to say goodnight to. And I haven’t let myself have dreams in a long, long time. But I think maybe I’m starting to again.

And I just need you to know that I’m gonna be okay. And I am gonna do what I can to keep your people safe, because they’re my people now too, you know? You gave me another mom and a best friend without even meaning to. And we all miss you like crazy. But, we’re okay. Merry Christmas, beautiful. I hope the angels pull out all the stops up there.”

Dean exhaled, his nose thick and eyes stinging in the cold air. He wiped his face and looked at Jo’s name one more time before turning back towards the road. Sam waited until Dean was buckled in before asking, “you good?”

“Yeah, man. Let’s get back before I cause more of a sensation,” Dean said, not meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Okay,” was all Sam said.

Tagging:

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@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

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Chapter 15: Rubato

#spotless series #dean angst #dean/reader #dean/jo #dean/bela #slow burn #character death #grief #guilt #dean winchester fanfiction #rockstar au #fake dating

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pink-sparkly-witch · 11 months

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The Widow - Chapter Eight (Finale)

Chapter Eight

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, feelings, heart-to-heart, fluff, kissing

Words: 2,641

A/N: That's all folks! Thank you all for reading and for coming on this journey with me. I appreciate all of you more than you know! 💖 I'm sure going to miss these two, but it was fun getting them to where they needed to go.

Huge thank you again to my gorgeous beta: @negans-lucille-tblr I’m not sure this would’ve even been posted without your encouragement, and thank you doesn’t seem like enough 😘

Now… go and grab those tissues!!

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Y/N’s POV

The first few minutes in the car are spent in awkward silence and it kills you. The relationship you have with Dean has always been easy and to think it’s been damaged beyond repair makes you sad.

“So…” Dean finally breaks the silence between you when you stop at a red light. “Good lunch?” He glances over at you and you scoff.

“That’s where you wanna go here? How was lunch?” You laugh, but it’s not the humourous kind.

“If you don’t mind, I’d much rather we get to the point and just agree that last night was a mistake and won’t happen again. So let’s do that, let’s pretend it never happened, not talk about it ever again and try to go back to the way things were.” You finish and turn your head to look out the car window.

“Before we do that, I need to say something. Last night meant everything to me,” he looks over at you and waits until you turn back towards him and meet his gaze. “Everything, Y/N. I don’t know when it happened, but I do know when I realised I was in love with you.”

“Dean…” you mutter. His words shock you, that’s about as much as you know right now, and you’re glad Dean ignores the interruption and continues talking, because you have no idea how to respond.

“It was when your car broke down on the hottest damn day of the year,” he chuckles at the memory, “and you called me for a tow. I was driving down the road you were stopped on, and I saw you sitting on the hood of your car, and you looked so beautiful. I swear you were glowing in the sunlight. It was like you had a goddamn halo or something! And my heart just stopped, and I thought ‘shit, I’m in trouble here,’ since then, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re the first thing I think of when I open my eyes in the morning and the last before I fall asleep. Fuck… I tried to stop, I swear I did…

“I know this is hard for you to hear and it’s probably the last thing you want to deal with right now and that’s okay. But, I need you to know you were not a mistake, sweetheart. I don’t regret what we did and I never will. I know we have something that could work if you give us a chance, because you can’t fake the kinda connection we had last night. But if you want to pretend last night never happened and go back to how things were, then I’ll do that for you… but if I’m right and you feel something more for me, please, tell me.”

You remain silent and take in his confession. He’s right, you do have feelings for him, the trouble is, you don’t know if you can trust yourself. Are they real feelings, or are you mistaking them for the comfort and familiarity Dean gives you?

And then you ask yourself where this can even go. He’s your husband’s brother; people will talk. And it’s not that you care what they’ll say necessarily, there are other factors involved here. Including how John will feel, and the impact such a “scandal” could have on the family business. More importantly, though, you don’t know if you can do that to Sam.

“You know what? Forget I said anything. Your silence says it all, Y/N. Let’s just sweep last night under the carpet and chalk it down to bad judgement,” you know Dean is hurt because his voice comes out weak and defeated and you despise yourself for it.

“It wasn’t,” it’s barely audible, but at least you got something out.

“Wasn’t what?” Dean asks.

“Bad judgement,” you clarify. “And I do feel something for you, I just…” you sigh, and let your thoughts hang in the air as you try and decipher what this all means and what the best thing to do is.

“Alright,” Dean nods his head. “When we get home, we’re going to talk about all of this, okay?” Dean fixes his gaze on you and you nod in agreement. “We need to lay our cards on the table and hear each other out. It’s the only way we’ll be able to get past this, whatever this is, or ends up being.”

Again, you know he’s right. You need to get it all out in the open and be completely honest with each other because it’s the only way you’ll be able to keep Dean in your life.

“Okay,” you agree with a nod.

You go back to spending the journey in silence, but it’s not quite as heavy and suffocating as before, and you have the tiniest glimmer of hope that everything will work out just fine.

Sitting on your sofa next to Dean, you hand him a tumbler with a decent measure of whiskey and untuck the bottle from under your arm to place it on the table. In a bid for more time, you take a long sip from your wine glass as you desperately try to figure out what the hell just happened and how you ended up in this position. Dean speaks first and you sigh in relief as you’re at a complete loss for words.

“I just wanna start by saying I meant what I said,” Dean begins. “All of it,” he adds before you can question him. “I have fallen in love with you, and last night did mean the world to me.” With that, he downs the whiskey in one gulp and refills his glass. Now, at least you have your first question.

“So why didn’t you stay with me? Why did you get up and drink all night?” you ask quietly.

“We got so caught up in the moment, and neither of us even stopped to think,” he looks down at the floor and you can see and feel the shame radiating from him in waves.

“When we were finished and you were sleeping in my arms, it was like everything came crashing back to reality. I felt guilty for doing that to Sam, I felt ashamed for taking advantage of you when you were upset, I knew I’d ruined things between us and I knew I had no one to blame but myself.

“I didn’t mean to stay away all night,” Dean says, looking at you for the first time since he’d started to explain himself. “I only intended to have one or two to help me sleep, but I got upset and… two became four, and well… you saw me this morning.”

“You know you didn’t take advantage of me, right? That if I didn’t want it to happen, it wouldn’t have?” you ask him, reaching a hand out to cup his cheek and pushing gently to make him look at you. “Dean, I swear to you, I wanted it too…” you begin, but a scoff from the green-eyed man next to makes you frown.

“So this morning was what?” He looks at you pleadingly, like he was silently asking you to tell him that he hadn’t been a mistake.

“One big miscommunication, apparently,” you chuckle sadly. “Dean, when I woke up this morning, the first thing I felt was guilt for doing that to Sam. And when I turned over to seek you out, to get some comfort and to be told we didn’t do anything wrong, I was met with a cold bed.

“Fine, I thought, maybe he feels some of the guilt I do and was awake early, or couldn’t sleep… but when I came downstairs and saw the empty bottle and the bloodshot eyes, I went to the worst thing I could think of. Regret. And I went on the defensive, and for that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left without talking to you.”

“And I should’ve never left you alone. I’m truly sorry, sweetheart. Not once did it cross my mind that you’d feel the way you did. You know, knowing that makes me feel worse than the guilt ever could.” Dean’s words are full of sincerity and you nod, believing everything he’s told you tonight.

“Okay, so we both agree we did nothing wrong and that it wasn’t a mistake, but I still feel like we haven’t resolved this,” you say looking up at him. Dean nods his head in agreement, but remains silent, staring at you intently. You know this part is up to you–he’s already told you how he feels–but you stall by taking a few more sips of wine.

“I know Sam is gone, and no matter how much I want it, he’s never coming back. I know he’d want me to be happy and to find someone to love and who loves me,” you glance up at Dean and see hope in his expression. “But I feel like I’d be cheating on him or something if that person is you. And,” you continue quickly, wanting to get everything out at once, “I don’t know if I really feel what I feel for you, or if I’m confusing your familiarity with Sam for real feelings.”

Dean nods and reaches his hand out to stroke your cheek. “I understand that, sweetheart. I feel the same way, but you’re right, he’d want you to be happy, and if that ends up being with me, then we’ll get through it together. And if it isn’t with me, then I’ll help you get through it.”

You think about what Dean said, your heart filling with hope that no matter what, he’d still have your back. “How do I know if what I feel is real?”

“Well, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can’t help with that, that’s gotta be all you. Only you know how you feel and what’s real or not.”

Placing your wine glass on the coffee table, you shift closer to Dean and tentatively place your head on his shoulder. You smile as you hear him sigh happily.

“C’mere,” he opens his arms and lets you cuddle into his chest before putting his arms around you and kissing your forehead. The warmth and safety of Dean’s embrace spreads over you like you’ve just lay down in a hot bath, and it makes you hum in pure contentment.

His arms squeeze you tighter into his body and you find yourself raising your head to look at him. Really look at him. His bright green eyes show you nothing but tenderness. You scan your eyes over the freckles that dust his face like a beautiful, undiscovered constellation; he truly is a stunning man.

Dean licks his lips, bringing your attention to them and your memories drift to last night and how those lips felt on yours and your body. Slowly, you tilt your head and move closer to him, gently pressing your lips to his.

Hesitantly, Dean opens his mouth and you take him up on his invitation, deepening the kiss and moaning as your tongues meet. The kiss is gentle and slow, neither of you in a rush to be anywhere but right here at this moment.

With your lips still attached to his, you straddle him and settle down in his lap. Feeling the beginnings of a bulge in his jeans, you grind your core into it, smirking at his groan.

“Y/N, sweetheart.” Dean is breathless, and you find the effect you have on him intoxicating. “If you want a repeat of last night, I’m all yours, but I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you, Dean.”

Six Weeks Later

“Hey, handsome,” you smile. “It’s been a while and I’m sorry for that,” you say as you sit cross-legged at Sam’s grave. “I’ve had some things going on that I needed to work out,” you pause and pick at the strands of grass around you.

“Something happened that I never thought would. I fell in love again. He makes me happy, Sammy. And I know he’s a good man and he’ll treat me right. If he doesn’t I’ll kick his ass,” you chuckle. “Then I’ll come here and beg you to haunt him!” your smile quickly turns to a sob.

“It’s Dean, Sam. I fell in love with Dean but I didn’t mean to. It just happened. And I need you to know that I never…” you need to stop talking to make way for the tears that won’t stop falling.

“I never felt that way about him when you were here. And I need you to know that. This is new and unexpected for both of us. I’ll always love you, Sammy, and I miss you. So fucking much every goddamn day! It’s just that I love him too. And I hope you can forgive me.”

You sit in silence for a while, just being. You know you should leave soon. Dean and John are waiting and you know they’ll be starting to worry about you. Movement catches your eye and you turn your head to see a butterfly fluttering nearby.

It lands on Sam’s gravestone and you smile, feeling a childlike joy at seeing the red admiral so close and so late in the year, even with the mild fall.

It remains perched and unmoving for a while longer before it flies over and lands on your knee. That’s when you know that this beautiful creature is a sign, and that Sam is with you.

You can feel him next to you, and you have the overwhelming feeling that everything is going to be alright and that he approves of you and Dean. The red admiral takes flight once again and circles your body.

You don’t know if it’s a laugh that erupts or if it’s a sob–maybe it’s a mixture of both–but it’s something, and you feel at peace with yourself and everything around you as you sit by his grave.

All too quickly, the butterfly takes off and flutters back into the nearby shrubs.

“I love you, Sam. Always and forever,” you say as you kiss your fingers and place them on his headstone before standing up and brushing the dirt from your jeans.“I’ll be back soon. I promise not to leave it so long next time.”

Walking away, you feel lighter than you have in a long time, and you know that finally, you’re at peace with your husband's death and with the path that has led you to looking forward to a life with Dean.

“Hey, sweetheart, you good?” Dean asks as you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him tight. You can’t bring yourself to speak, so you nod against his chest and once more you let the tears fall, knowing that this time, they’re happy tears.

“You’re alright, Y/N, I’m right here.” Dean murmurs, and you feel another hand stroking your back.

“Sam would be happy, you know that, don’t you darlin’?” John asks. “For both of you.”

Pulling away from Dean’s embrace, you wipe your tears away and smile, “I know he is.”

You saw a red admiral at every big life moment after that day at his grave. You saw one the day Dean proposed, and again at your small, intimate wedding. One flew in the kitchen window on the day you found out you were expecting your first child, and one appeared on the day you found out about the two that came next! On every birthday and holiday, on the day you gave birth to each of your children, and on their first days at school.

It gave you immense comfort, and though at first Dean, John, and Jody put it down to coincidence, after the first few times it happened, they started looking for the butterfly on the special days too.

THE END

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