Dean x Reader287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHGIJyvhVoO
Warnings: some violence, blood, language287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9gcNfIm2Qr
Summary: Y/N must make it back from hell with some precious cargo.287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPmqNkUHAoS
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPk3B2rtlvK
You were hurrying to the door, Dean limply along behind you. You paused at the threshold, listening hard.
Dean coughed behind you and you winced at the sound. “Man, I really wish we had another one of those demon knives right about now,” he muttered gruffly.
You cracked the door open. “Pretty sure you always have that wish, Dean.”
Dean tilted his head a little, agreeing with you.
You pulled the door open more widely and glanced back at him. “Here,” you pressed the other long blade into his palm. “Coast is clear. Come on,” and you pushed ahead, stepping over the bodies of the slain demons laying crowded just outside the door.
Dean looked down at the bodies at his feet, hesitating a little with disbelief and feeling more than a little impressed. “This was all you? Just you?”
You turned around and gave Dean an incredulous look. “Is this important to discuss right now? We’ve gotta get the hell out of here.”
”You got bossy while I was gone,” Dean said. He laughed a low laugh, a little gravel in it, and your knees almost gave out at the sound of it. You had thought you might never hear that again. You couldn’t resist looking back at him once more and taking in the sight of him, even as bloodied and bruised as he was, wavering a little on his feet. You swallowed hard. “Come on.” You were worried that it was going to be difficult to make it through purgatory with Dean so battered.
You didn’t meet any demons until you rounded a couple of corners on your way back to the door. You were around the corner first, staying well ahead of Dean and you darted back before they saw you. There were demons approaching down the hallway, still a good distance away but headed straight towards you. “Shit…”
Dean’s eyes widened as he heard them coming. “How many?”
Your breathing was speeding up just like your heart. “Six,” you said throwing him an uneasy look.
”Alright, well let’s go,” Dean said, making a move towards the edge.
”No!” you whispered urgently, putting your hands firmly on his chest to stop him, fear flickering clearly through your eyes. “You’re in bad shape. I know you’re doing your best to hide it but… you’ve been in hell, Dean. I’m not stupid. I know what that does to a soul. We’ve only got one demon knife and I’m probably going to need your help when we get into purgatory so just—for now, just save your energy.” Your hands slid from him, and Dean felt an ache in his midsection. You turned back towards the corner. “I’ll take care of this. Just stay put,” you pleaded. You could hear the demons clearly now; they were close. You stepped around the corner with the demon knife clenched tightly in your hand and revealed yourself.
The demons stopped in their tracks, seizing you up. The one in the front, presumably the one in charge, scowled at you. “The human… you must be the one—“
”Who’s walking out of here right under Crowley’s nose? Yeah. That’s me.”
In a matter of seconds all but one had flown at you, hands groping, and blades shining. You stabbed the leader in the chest but were too slow to avoid the fist from another demon that landed squarely on your jaw, hard enough to blackout your vision for a few crucial seconds and set you rocking to the side, trying to stay on your feet. As you stood again you felt the slice of a blade on your arm, the same arm that already had a deep gash from a fight in purgatory. You cried out, praying the Dean wouldn’t rush in at the sound. You were sure this was forcing him to fight against every fiber of his being to stay hidden and not charge into the fight.
You recovered and landed a strong kick to the stomach of a demon that was rushing at you with a blade in each of her hands. She splayed backward and was out of your hair long enough for you to thrust the demon knife into the back of one other demon, and catch another across the throat as you withdrew the blade. Now there were three demons left; the woman with the cruel smile and the two glinting blades, a tall bald man with pale skin, and a shorter demon who was still standing off to the side, not engaging in the action. There was a moment where you found yourself rapidly glancing between all three, trying to predict who would make the next move. They remained stationary until the woman barked at the shorter demon.
”Go tell the king that the whore is here!” She turned back to face you with a cruel smile again, spinning her blades. The demon was gone in a sudden stream of black, thick smoke, rocketing back up the hallway the way they had come.
You were heaving breaths, feeling a little short on oxygen. “I resent that,” you remarked to her. She chuckled a little at your response.
”You’re not going to like what happens when the king gets here,” she said.
”I don’t plan on sticking around to find out,” you said. You threw the demon knife, straight and true, and it pierced her heart. Her mouth fell open in surprise and her eyes went wide before the familiar fiery light shone out and she dropped, her blades clattering on the hard rock.
But now there was still one demon left, and your knife was stuck in the dead demon’s chest. You dodged a punch and his fist crunched into the rock wall behind you. You made a dart towards the body to retrieve the demon knife but he was able to grab your arm roughly and he flung you into the hard, jagged wall, knocking the air from your lungs, and sending your head reeling with blurred, multi-colored spots. And then he was pinning you against the wall, his arm at your neck. You gasped and wheezed, unable to draw any breath in from the temporary paralysis of your diaphragm and the pressure of his arm on your windpipe.
”You’re gonna be mincemeat,” he hissed. You could feel flecks of his hot spit landing on your cheeks and you winced as his arm pressed more firmly into your throat, struggling against him as best you could with your arms and knees, trying to push him away.
The edges of your vision began closing in. In a few seconds, you would be passed out. But the pressure suddenly released and the demon dropped the ground, mouth, and eyes drawn wide and glowing with a hot flame.
You dropped to the ground, choking and coughing, drawing hurried, rattling breaths. You looked up to see Dean standing there with the demon knife in his hand. He moved to kneel down beside you, intense worry evident on his face, but you waved him off and began climbing to your feet. “I’m okay,” you said, your throat finally loosening, allowing you to draw in a couple of deep breaths. It wasn’t until Dean’s eyes were staring at your arm that you realized how the blood was pouring down it from where the demon had slashed you with her blade. And you could feel your pulse in your jaw from where you’d been struck. There was no time to think about any of this though. “We’ve gotta go. One got away. He went to get Crowley.”
Dean nodded and firmly pressed the demon knife back into your hand.
The last stretch through the winding corridors of hell was a mad dash. You pressed on, checking on Dean behind you every once and a while. He seemed surprisingly strong considering the condition he appeared to be in and you wondered at his resilience. Finally, you rounded the last turn and the door was there. You turned and gave Dean a firm nod, and he climbed through the door, passing into purgatory. You were just about to do the same when you heard a familiar voice behind you.
”Hello, love.”
You swallowed hard and glanced over your shoulder to see Crowley standing there casually, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. You gave him a curt nod. “Crowley,” you said, feeling your palm suddenly sweaty on the hilt of the demon knife.
”So you made it into hell, did you?” He paused and looked you over, his eyes settling on your arm that was soaked in blood and the gash that was still bleeding freely. “I respect that,” he said taking a sip of his scotch.
”Dean’s already out. And you won’t find us in purgatory,” you said. You knew Dean was probably waiting through the door, wondering where you were. You prayed silently that he didn’t pop out into the middle of a fight and that he wouldn’t pop back in while you were engaged with Crowley.
”You’re right. I won’t find you in purgatory. Because there is no way I’m going into purgatory where every single foul thing is ready to kill me, the king of hell, just so they can squabble over who did the deed.” He paced a few steps closer to you, slowly and deliberately. You raised the demon knife and he put his hands up, palms out. “Whoa there, sweetheart. Let’s not do something we’ll regret.”
”I should kill you right now for what you did to Dean.”
He raised his eyebrows at you. “Business is business. It’s not my fault I hate his filthy little guts more than a dragon hates a whore,” he said, his voice rising as he became a little incensed. He took another sip of his drink and eyed you. “It turns out you’re a more interesting and worthy adversary than I originally predicted.”
You narrowed your eyes at him again. “And?”
He raised his glass in a toast to you. “And I look forward to many more years of hateful squabbling with you. Things do sometimes get awfully dull when you and those Winchesters aren’t mixing them up. Now get, before I change my mind,” he said.
You stared at him in confusion, completely perplexed by his words. “Right… well then… Cheers.” And without wasting another second or another breath on the King of Hell you jumped through the door, emerging into purgatory on the other side.
Dean was there waiting, anxious, and he immediately helped you to your feet. “What took you so long? I was about to bust back in there!” Dean slid the rock back into place and the rushing sound of the air ceased immediately.
You straightened up and stowed the demon knife for a moment so you could adjust the shirt tied around your upper arm so it was over both gashes now, cringing and gritting your teeth as you tightened it over the wounds, the old and the new. “Crowley,” you said.
”What? How did you get away? Did you—Is he dead?”
You shook your head, drew your blade again, and started off through the trees at a brisk pace, paranoia kicking in and making your head turn at each little rustle of leaves or cracking of twigs. “No. He let me go.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
You had hacked and slashed your way through purgatory and arrived back at the spot where the rogue reaper was to meet you and return you to the dirty alleyway. “Alright,” you said, looking at Dean and raising your eyebrows. You were both filthy, covered in monsters’ blood and dirt and sweat. But the sight of him was the best thing you’d ever seen. You felt emotion welling up in your chest again and you swallowed the tight lump in your throat as best as you could. “Time for you to hitch a ride,” you said.
His eyes locked with yours and flickered between them for a moment. There were a million things he wanted to say to you right then, but he knew there was no time, and so they would have to wait… just a little bit longer. “See you on the other side,” he said.
With that, you both cut your arms, clasped them, eyes locked on one another, and as you whispered the incantation, Dean shimmered away into molecular light and was bound beneath your skin, his soul hot and gleaming.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Hard pavement slammed under your feet. The scent of rain mixed with exhaust and steam cloaked you. The dingy lights were reflected on the shining, wet asphalt and you looked at their reflections like they were a million shining stars.
”Holy shit,” you muttered, catching your breath. “Holy shit…” you looked up and between the buildings, you could see inky blackness, a vast sky, with spirals of smoke and steam rising upwards.
The reaper wandered over to her taxicab. “You really look like hell,” she said with a knowing smirk.
You glanced at her. “That’s hilarious,” you said, with not a trace of amusement. “Thanks,” you finished. You shivered a little in the chill night air. Your jacket was long gone and you were standing in just a filthy tank top with a bloody, torn shirt tied around your arm.
”Don’t mention it,” she said. You nodded stiffly, rubbing at your sore jaw absentmindedly. “No. Really. Don’t mention it. To anyone.”
You gave her a scoff of a laugh. “Yeah, I get it. I know.” You started to walk away but turned back abruptly. “Oh—head’s up. You might want to make scarce for a while. Crowley knows I was in there. I’m sure he’s planning on paying you a visit. So there’s your favor. I could have just let you die. So we’re even.”
She swore under her breath and climbed into her cab closing the door with a snap.
You clutched a hand to your still bleeding arm and smirked a little as the taillights faded away.
The walk back to the Impala was a pleasant one; this was all in spite of the oily puddles, and piles of garbage, and leering homeless men. You had gone to purgatory, and hell, and back. And you had Dean’s soul. You had done it. You were really going to bring him back.
You suddenly remembered your cell phone and dug it out of your pocket, laughing under your breath at the shattered screen. You crammed it back into your pocket, shook your head, and continued your stroll through the dark alleyway.
Then there she was: the Impala, right where you left her. You grabbed a spare jacket out of the backseat and pulled it on, and as you slid inside behind the wheel, you put a hand over the burning, pulsing soul in your arm and smiled. “You’re almost home,” you whispered. And though you were battered, and bruised, and drenched in blood and sweat and dirt, and though your jaw felt like it may lock up, and hundreds of scrapes and scratches and cuts felt like they were on fire, you smiled the whole drive out of the city, and kept driving until you felt you would collapse.
_ _ _ _ _ _
The motel wasn’t the worst you had stayed in. You had collapsed onto the bed, dropping your duffel bags just inside the door, and not even showering or dealing with your wounds. You’d been asleep instantly. Although in earth-time you’d been gone only 24 hours, you felt like it had been months. Your eyes opened to the face of the clock glowing green. It was past 9 am, far later than you had meant to sleep, and you sat up a little stiffly, groaning as every muscle felt like it was on fire or bruised to the bone.
A hot shower was definitely in order. As you glanced at your reflection in the mirror when the light came on, you applauded yourself for being wise enough not to go to the front desk clerk last night to check out a room. You had simply broken into one instead… You were quite certain that the clerk would have called the cops on the blood-covered wild-woman you appeared to be. Of course, the swelling was definitely worse now… a shiner had really developed overnight, blooming purple beneath one of your eyes which was puffy and tender. You couldn’t even remember when specifically that had happened…
You wiggled your jaw and were met not only with sharp pains but with a horrible crackling and grinding noise in one of the joints. You shook it off and slipped off the jacket you were wearing so you could untie the bloody shirt still wrapped over the deepest slashes in your arm. You hissed in a sharp intake of breath as you prodded at them. They both would need stitching. You stared down at the glowing light beneath your skin on your arm and pressed your other hand over it. It was the most precious thing you had ever been responsible for. You needed to get back to the bunker and quick.
A mere two hours later you were cleaned up, stitched up, and loaded into the Impala. As you turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life, your eyes landed on the glove compartment. You opened it and stared at the 6 cell phones piled inside.
You hesitated. Bobby and Sam… maybe you should check in but—the rest of the news should be delivered in person. Preferably by that person, it chiefly concerned.
You settled for a quick check-in with Sam. He answered on the second ring.
”Y/N?”
”Hey Sam.”
”Are you okay?” His mind immediately jumped to worst-case scenarios.
You glanced at your beat-up reflection in the mirror and smiled a little. “I’m okay,” you said, trying to keep your tone blank. You didn’t want Sam asking too many questions. “Just wanted to check-in. How are you and Bobby?”
”I’m okay. Just… been going through the archives for something to keep me occupied. You know, when I’m not sleeping. Bobby has been tinkering on the old cars in the garage.”
You let the silence stretch for a moment, wondering if making Sam and Bobby wait for this news was too cruel. But you decided it was for the best. Until Dean was really back, you didn’t want them to know. “Hang in there, Sam.”
”Yeah…” There was another pause. “Where are you now?”
”Nowhere, Midwest, USA,” you said. “Listen, Sam. I need you to do me a favor.”
”Yeah, sure. Of course. What is it?”
”Just, uh, keep an eye and ear out for anything… Crowley. Okay? And let me know if you hear anything.”
”Okay… are you going to tell me why?”
”Not right now. Just let me know, alright.”
Sure thing.” There was another pregnant pause, and you knew he was going to say what he always did. “I wish you’d just come home. Bobby does too.”
”I know. I will. Bye, Sam.”
”Be safe, Y/N.” With that you hung up the call, shifted the Impala into gear, and sent the engine roaring to life, nose pointed towards the open road.
You were headed home. Grill pointed towards Kansas, you clicked on Dean’s cassette, and cranked the volume.
ns 15.158.61.55da2
