Dean x Reader290Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3yd5IOcXDg
Warnings: language, some very mild description of blood/injuries290Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyXtDPFWral
Summary: The conclusion to the Crash series.
290Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu6ACfCCpgU
Familiar; the trees lining the road ditch were becoming familiar. The curves of the asphalt were becoming familiar. Even the way the air smelled as it whipped into the open window, like grassy meadows damp with morning dew, was familiar. And finally, at last, with a small sense of relief, you made the final turn onto the gravel road that led to the bunker.
You slowed the Impala, creeping along at a snail’s pace, paranoid that somehow Bobby and Sam would hear you arriving and come running out of the bunker before you wanted them to, a fear you knew was unfounded. You parked her on the shoulder, next to the field where you had buried Dean. As you climbed out, you slid the seat back so it would accommodate legs much longer than yours, and smiled to yourself as you rested your hand over your other forearm. Already, as you looked at Dean’s glowing soul in your arm, your eyes grew misty and you felt a swell of warmth between your lungs, which bloomed outwards as your heart beat faster. You were so close. You grabbed a shovel from the trunk, and stepped around the Impala, leaving the pavement behind, taking long strides through the tall grass licking around your ankles.
The next part was sure to be unpleasant, of course… You had to dig up Dean’s grave so you could reunite his soul with his body. And there wouldn’t be just a skeleton. You’d be forced to look on him again as he was when he laid unmoving on the floor of the bunker, stolen from you, as you cast yourself down beside him, over him and had to watch him fade away. And the way he had looked as Sam knelt beside him as Dean lay on his bed, all traces of the life that made Dean so Dean is gone, with Bobby sitting stoically nearby. Your fist clenched harder on the wooden handle of the shovel as you tried to push the flashbacks away, shutting your eyes tight and again putting a hand over your forearm. “Alright, Dean. Let’s do this.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
You chucked the shovel up onto the grass and climbed out after it. You were covered in soil, and beads of sweat were forming at your hairline. You kept your eyes averted from the open coffin in the ground. The split second that you had seen Dean’s body as you opened the lid had been far too much already. You wiped at your face with your arm, still panting from the exertion of digging down six feet.
You took in a few forced breaths in a failed attempt to slow your racing, bounding heart. You withdrew your knife from your back pocket and set the blade against your skin, cutting into your forearm, gritting your teeth against the bite of the cold blade, though you were sure that you felt it less than you normally would, all your thought bent on what you were about to do.
Standing over the freshly dug earth, you extended your arm and recited the Latin incantation, watching with amazement as Dean’s soul ran like drops of liquid light into the hole at your feet. A brilliant light began to emanate and you shielded your face from the blinding glow, holding your breath, feeling like even your heart stopped beating.
The warm light receded and you remained frozen, afraid to drop your arm away, nervous about what you would see, still not even daring to hope…
A shuffling noise, and then a sound of pieces of wood clattering.
You swallowed hard and dropped your arm down, eyes wide.
Dean was looking up at you, whole and present and alive.
”Y/N.”
Your eyes immediately filled with tears and you dropped to your knees, finally allowing yourself to break again.
Dean rushed to pull himself up out of the grave, hurrying to reach you. He climbed out and knelt beside you, arms reaching out to grasp your shoulders. “Hey. Hey…” His gruff voice was the most wonderful thing you had ever heard and you sniffled as you looked up at him, tears still streaming down onto your cheeks. Dean clasped your battered and bruised face gently in his rough hands and swept his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe away the tears clinging there. “You did it. I’m here. I’m back—alive,” he said, your eyes locked together for a long moment.
His eyes flitted over the glaring bruises and cuts on your face. You had gone through purgatory and hell and pulled him back out. He couldn’t believe it. He was struck dumb with the thought of what you must have gone through—how you must have suffered after he died, and trying to reach him. But it was all over now. He reached for your knife sitting on the ground and cut a strip of material from his shirt, quickly tying it around your bleeding forearm. His fingers smoothed the fabric over the cut, as he considered with wonder that you had carried his soul there.
You were sitting in a sort of trance, just staring at Dean. The sight of him was nourishing you in a way you couldn’t put into words and finally, the tears falling from your eyes started to slow. He reached a hand up to clasp your cheek again and you managed a dewy smile at the feeling of his skin on yours, shutting your eyes to savor the sensation.
”God,” he murmured as he looked at you. “I am so sorry. And thank you.” His gruff voice was again pulling you in. Your eyes fluttered open and Dean leaned in towards you, his other hand alighting gently on your waist. He moved in slowly and at first simply pressed his forehead to yours, both of you closing your eyes and letting the fact that the two of you were here, were concrete, wash over you. His hand slid down from your cheek to reach around the back of your neck, his fingertips sliding gently into your hair. Your heart was racing against your chest like it was trying to get to him.
In another instant, his lips were on yours and you were kissing him back with a pang of hunger you had had to ignore since he had been taken from you, though it hadn’t lessened. Both of you raised up onto your knees, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in tighter against you, your bodies pressed close, his hands moving from your hips to your waist and over your back. Your lips moved effortlessly together and Dean’s were setting you ablaze, kindling a fire in your chest again that had almost been completely snuffed out by grief and hopelessness.
Dean put all he could into that kiss; apologies for being reckless and ruining so much, and for how you had to suffer as a result, gratitude for all you had gone through to bring him back, and all the desire he had felt for so long, for wanting this and wanting you, making up for the lost time.
If anyone was watching earth from above, be it angels or the always elusive God, it was a scene that even they would take notice of, and scribe in their memories. Two figures, one covered in dirt and bruises and cuts, pressed close, souls absolutely melding together, kneeling beside a freshly dug grave and an empty coffin, muddy shovel lying discarded nearby, and a makeshift headstone that was no longer needed.
At length, the two of you broke apart, all rosy cheeks and breathlessness and you continued to look at each other in wonder, but now with small smiles tugging at the corners of your lips.
”I think there are a couple of people who should know about this,” you said quietly, not breaking your gaze with Dean. His smile grew.
”Did they know you were doing this?”
You looked a little guilty and shook your head. “No. I didn’t want to say anything until it was done until I was sure.”
Dean nodded. “Lead the way.”
You both stood and you were about to start across the field when Dean’s hand grasped yours and tugged you around so he could press another kiss to your lips. You felt weak at the knees as he deepened it and your lips parted as Dean swept his tongue across your bottom lip. You tasted each other completely and when you broke apart again there were smiles on both your faces and your cheeks were flushed. Dean’s fingers interlocked with yours and his face turned serious as you set off for the spot where you had parked the Impala.
As you come down over the last rise and Dean saw his baby parked there he laughed jovially. “Oh, God. Baby,” he said. His eyes traveled over her. “She looks good,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.
You produced the keys from your back pocket and held them out to him. “We only have to go about half a block but,” you shrugged, “I think you should drive.”
Dean gave you a half-smile and accepted the keys. As he climbed into the driver’s seat and you settled in next to him, you exchanged a look and you both understood the meaning without having to voice it. Things were finally, after so much pain and blood, back to how they should be.
The purr of the engine and the vibration he felt through the steering wheel was the final assurance to Dean that this was really happening.
_ _ _ _ _ _
The Impala was parked in her spot in the garage of the bunker. Dean trailed behind you as you made your way to the door, your fingers clasping the handle. You paused and looked back at him, letting out an audible exhale. Dean nodded, and you twisted the knob and pushed inside. You gestured for Dean to wait just inside the door, where he would be out of sight until Bobby and Sam were both there.
”Sam! Bobby!” you called out, your voice echoing off the walls and down the hallway.
Quick footsteps and Sam came into view, jogging to reach you. His brow furrowed in concern as he looked at you so covered in injuries and dirt. “Y/N! Jesus… what happened to you?” A shadow passed over his face. “Why are you covered in dirt? What did you do?”
You opened your mouth to respond but Bobby arrived too, looking at your battered appearance. “Y/N… what the hell happened to you?” His eyes landed on the bit of shirt wrapped around your forearm, the bloodstain in the fabric showing through. He stared at it unblinkingly.
You held your hands up, palms out, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto your face. “Alright. Just hold on. I didn’t do anything—well… I did something but—“
Sam’s voice became more urgent. “Y/N, what did you do? You look like hell.”
“That’s exactly what she looks like. That and purgatory.” Dean stepped out from around the corner.
Sam and Bobby’s eyes snapped up and grew wide as they looked at him. Sam swallowed down a lump in his throat.
”Hiya, Sammy,” Dean said. Sam’s mouth was hanging partially open and he stared at his brother in disbelief, trying to wrap his mind around how this was possible. His eyes grew a little teary and he looked at you as he blinked them quickly away, waiting for an explanation.
Bobby was standing perfectly still with his jaw clenched, staring at Dean.
”I tried to make a deal first but… no demons would deal,” you started.
Dean looked at you angrily. “You tried to make a deal? What the hell is—“
”Not the time for this!” you interrupted him. “So. I had to go with Plan B. I–I went through purgatory and into hell to get his soul, so I could resurrect him.”
Sam turned back to look at his brother, his eyes still blurring with confusion. Then all at once he lunged at him and pulled him into a tight hug.
”Oof!” Dean let out a gruff laugh as Sam forced the air from his lungs, and he thumped him hard on the back as he hugged his brother tight. “Alright, Sammy. It’s alright. We’re good…” He noticed how Sam had lost weight, his bones protruding at the edges of his frame.
Sam pulled away, stepping back and rubbing a hand over his chin. He refused to look away from Dean like if he did Dean might disappear. Sam’s pale face and the dark circles under his still questioning eyes revealed just how much Sam had been struggling since Dean’s death.
”Bobby,” Dean said. Bobby still hadn’t moved and a muscle in his jaw was twitching.
”You dumbass!” Bobby yelled at you suddenly.
”What? I–!”
”I’m not finished!” he roared at you. “You run off leaving me and Sam! You could have died too and then where would we be?”
Dean stepped forward to come to your defense. “Bobby, Y/N—“
But Bobby rounded on him next. “And you! You were a dumbass! What kind of idjit locks himself in with a demon-like Luther! And look what happened! You went and got yourself killed and left us to try and pick up the pieces of our lives without you!” Bobby stood, panting from his tirade.
You and Dean stood there looking shocked and chastised.
”I know. …I’m sorry,” Dean said, his low voice gravelly as he averted his eyes to stare down at his boots. “I was doing what I thought I had to do”
”Sorry,” you added quietly.
Bobby’s lips pressed together and his eyes suddenly became glazed with tears. “Now, get over here you idjit,” he said.
Dean cracked a half-smile at him and went to give Bobby a hug. You nearly started crying again at the sound of Bobby’s uneven breath as he held back his own tears. He thumped Dean hard on the back and released him, clearing his throat. “Welcome home, boy. Don’t you ever do something that stupid again!”
Dean nodded.
You had cleaned yourself up, a hot shower more than needed. And you had allowed Dean to carefully stitch the cut in your arm that had been the vessel for his soul. You smiled as he looked over all your other injuries, grinning at him fondly as he fussed about your black-eye and every little scrape, his strong hands turning your arms over so he could check you over. After sitting patiently, chewing on your bottom lip as you watched him so tenderly clean you up and with such concern settled on his brow, you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing him around the neck and pulling him into you for another passionate kiss.
Dean stiffened with surprise at first, but you felt him smile into your lips as your fingers ran through his hair and he sunk into you again, both of you smiling through the kiss.
When you finally broke apart you studied his green eyes. “I was lost without you,” you whispered to him.
He looked at you sadly. “I’m sorry. I was lost when I thought I had—“ he grew quiet as the memory of the wrecked Impala, all twisted metal and shattered glass, surged forward in his mind.
You pressed a soft kiss on his pouting lips. “We’re both here now.”
The rest of the day you all sat together around the table, beers, and whiskeys clutched in hands, talking and laughing, and occasionally exchanging weary looks and recounting more painful parts of what had happened, sinking into tense silence on more than a few occasions. The experience had of course worn on all of you. None of you would ever be the same again, and that was something that was silently acknowledged over and over…
But Dean was back.
And when he unexpectedly moved close to you with Sam and Bobby both watching, and he wrapped an arm around you and rested his hand on your lower back, you looked up at him in surprise and felicity, your eyes locking and reflecting the light you saw in his. Bobby raised his eyebrows and exchanged a knowing look with Sam, both of them unable to prevent themselves from smiling at the look that passed between you and Dean.
”You should have seen all the demons Y/N took out in hell. It was a little scary,” Dean said, looking up to Bobby and Sam again.
You gave him a look. “If by scary you mean ‘badass’ then yes,” you said, eliciting a laugh and a smile from Dean.
”That’s exactly what I mean,” he said. “And in purgatory. We may have underestimated our roommate, Sam,” he added.
Sam nodded and gave you an approving smile. His shoulders looked less hunched and his face brighter than you had seen it in what felt like ages. “That’s good to know.”
Bobby chuckled. “You boys better toe the line. I feel better knowing Y/N is around to keep you both out of trouble now,” he said, sipping his beer, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile.
_ _ _ _ _ _
A month had gone by since you had brought Dean back. And it had so far been the happiest month of your life. You fell into step together easily, finding it effortless as you both began to fall for one another, hard. Dean slept beside you, discovering that you seemed to be the magical cure for his insomnia, and now this was the way you slept best too. If you didn’t feel him beside you, even if he only got up for a moment for a glass of water, you were immediately awake and wondering where he was, transported back to losing him instantly.
Dean would be at your side again in a moment, pressing kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and lips, and smoothing your hair, his low voice wrapping around you and calming your pounding heart.
And you did the same when he shot up in bed in the middle of the night, haunted by his time in hell.
But even though these dark spots, you were both happier than you could remember ever being before.
One lazy afternoon, Sam came into the library to find you and Dean just sitting and being with each other, tucked in close together at the end of the couch, talking about nothing in particular. Dean’s hand was resting on your knee, and his other arm draped over your shoulders. Sam smiled at the scene. “Hey. I need to go into town for a supply run. Can I have the keys to the Impala?”
You and Dean’s eyes both grew wide and you sat up stock-straight. “NO,” you both said loudly at the same time.
Sam’s eyes widened at the force of the response and in confusion for a moment, but then he understood, and he nodded. “Ahh. Right. I’ll take a different vehicle…”
Dean nodded at his brother. “Call me superstitious, but the answer to that question is no: now, forever, always,” he said. He turned back to look down at you seated close against him, his green eyes warm. “Right?”
You met his eyes and a small smile grew on your face. “Right,” you nodded.
Sam nodded and murmured a quick goodbye. As Sam stepped out of the room, Dean pressed a soft kiss to your lips, drawing a smile from you and returning it himself.
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