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i4z-0892-il · 6 years

Text

Memories

Author: Jena @i4z-0892-il

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: The Reader suffering from amnesia has been trying to figure out how to function in a world she doesn’t quite fit into, and remember a past she just can’t recall. Until someone almost familiar steps into her life.

Word Count: 4,773

Warnings: Emotional distress, physical aggression

A/N: This one is probably only going to be 2 or 3 parts, kind of depends how much I wind up cramming into each chapter.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

You tapped wine red fingernails against the countertop absentmindedly staring into space. It was a slow day, the second the sun went down the bar would be packed, and you’d have plenty to do to pass the time, but as it was there wasn’t a soul around. That was just the lunch shift though, on occasion there’d be a random who’d stumble in, order a beer maybe a burger, but usually it was just you and Benny, the owner and cook, until the evening shift began.

“Hey, Y/n, you wanna quit daydreamin’ and slice up some lemons for me?” Benny called with a thick cajun drawl through a small square window from the kitchen at the end of the bar. You didn’t move from your spot, or break your focus which was on nothing in particular when you answered him.

“They’re already done and in the fridge Benny. Top shelf.” You dropped your chin into the palm of your hand as you leaned over the bartop, your mind on another planet entirely. You found yourself gazing off into la-la-land more often than not, visions of another life playing through your head so vividly you could almost smell them and taste them. So vivid it could have been real, but the subject of your daydreams and nightmares was so far fetched there was no explaining them other than an overactive imagination. You’d had them since you could remember- though the joke there was that you couldn’t remember very far back as it were.

What you did remember was waking up in a sterile white room, tubes and IV’s everywhere and a Doctor and Nurse standing over you with their eyes wide like they’d seen a miracle happen. They weren’t wrong.

“Miss, do you know where you are?” The Doctor asked, her eyes kind and sympathetic.

“A hospital?” When you answered your own voice seemed foreign and hoarse with disuse.

“Do you know what year it is?”

“No.”

“Do you know how you got here?”

“...No....”

“Do you remember your name?”

“No…” Your voice was little more than a whisper, and their questions drew nothing but empty space in your memory where answers should have been. The nothingness that their questions drew from you began to fill up with panic, the panic of not knowing. You couldn’t remember your own name, you had to have one. You knew things, words, colors, shapes, sounds. You could tell faces apart, and gauge where you were, but around that there was a gray fog where you should have been able to pluck details out of.

The Doctor and her Nurse exchanged pitiful glances, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear what they had to say, what they knew but you didn’t. Then she told you that you’d been in an accident, and were lucky to have survived. Broken leg, broken arm, dislocated jaw, punctured lung, and you’d been nearly ripped to shreds to the point that the surgeons basically had to Frankenstein you back together. The real kicker was when she told you that you’d been in a coma for the last two months, and had been kept on life support for the first three weeks of your residency. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, and you couldn’t process any of it through the sensory overload.

“An accident? Coma? I- I don’t understand.” You stated sharply. Saying the words out loud made less sense than they did hearing them. You could understand why you couldn’t remember, or how you couldn’t remember. They hadn’t expected you to come off life-support, let alone wake up, hopes for the Jane Doe on floor 4 room 437 were grim. The fact that you were missing memory wasn’t as surprising to them as it was to you. “Who am I?”

“We were hoping you might be able to tell us. The gentlemen who brought you in said your name was Y/n, no last name, they couldn’t tell us anything else.”

“Gentlemen? You mean like friends? Family?”

“They said they saw your car flip over, and that you told them your name before you passed out, then they brought you here. They came back to check on you a few times, but that’s been a while ago now. You came in without any identification. ”

“Did… was anyone looking for me? Did I have family come see me?”

“I’m sorry… The Police searched missing persons but couldn’t find anything.”

The next couple of weeks following that were filled with more Doctors, Physical Therapy, counselors and other Specialists to help you remember who you were, and how to fit into life not knowing who you are. The whole process moved too far too fast, you were bounced out of care as quickly as possible, and once you’d regained strength enough to walk and function like a more-or-less normal human being they kicked you to the curb and left you to fend for yourself.

The hardest part wasn’t learning how to walk again, or the cognitive tests- it was the foreign face you saw when you looked in the mirror. The first time you looked you scoffed, you weren’t what you had expected. Not that you’d necessarily expected someone else, but the girl in your reflection seemed as strange and distant to you as everyone else. It felt like being trapped in the skin of someone else. It was a face that you’d never get used to, no matter how hard you tried, uncomfortable in your own skin on such a primal level. You couldn’t complain so much, you were beautiful in your own right, and folks took notice of that fact. But their eyes were invasive, and you’d have preferred to blend into the background.

That’s when you found yourself working at the bar, nothing but a first name that you couldn’t even guarantee was yours, no last name, no memories, and no professional skills that you were aware of. Benny didn’t ask too many questions, and while he was salty with everyone else he had a soft spot for you, he liked you, he liked your unfiltered mouth and how aloof you were. Most people were kinder to you after they found out you couldn’t remember 98% of your life, well mostly they pitied you, treated you like some broken, fragile thing. Or like you were like you were stupid. But you weren’t dumb, at least you didn’t think so. What if you’d been a lawyer before the accident? Or a Doctor, or Teacher? What if you’d written a best-seller? Or maybe you were a promising Botanist. Or a Nuclear Physicist perhaps. The further you fell down the rabbit hole the harder it was to bring yourself out of it.

The fact was that whoever you were before the accident didn’t matter anymore, regardless of how curious you were. Answers to your questions were going to remain elusive til the day you died probably. No family was looking for you that you knew of, you hadn’t had any visitors besides the two guys who were kind enough to bring you into the hospital, but not invested enough to stick around for long. The fact that you seemed to belong to no one was easily the most heartbreaking aspect of the whole ordeal. You had no one, no one to hold you hand while you were hooked up to machines that were breathing for you. No one to whisper stories to you in hopes to bring you out of your coma. No one who cared, no one who was looking for you, no one who wanted you. Maybe it meant that you were just a horrible person before the accident, maybe you were lonesome, maybe you didn’t have anyone anyway. The maybe’s drove you crazy, because it was just like staring into nothing and looking for answers.

Being at the bar and having something to do to take your mind off of it helped, you found yourself glaring at your own reflection less, less pissed at yourself for just not being able to remember. Eventually you began to feel less dumb for not being able to recall things either. While your frustration at yourself began to ebb you found yourself off in your own little world more and more and more, finding it nearly impossible to drag yourself from. The visions you had there were just more fantastic and captivating, and vivid, so vivid you could smell the iron in blood, and feel the cold spots that would make your whole body shudder. It was your personal escape as well as nightmare. The things you saw in your head should have terrified you, literal monsters: ghosts, witches and werewolves. It should have scared you, most normal people would have been horrified being plagued by them night after night, day after day. But not you. It wasn’t that you were unbothered entirely, because the tingle up your spine, and the way your heart would race you knew it was fear, but you didn’t feel afraid. You took them on and came out victorious time and time again, more often than not you weren’t facing them alone either.

You could never see their faces always clouded, or just out of the corner of your eye. You knew there were two of them, you could feel them around you. When they were present in your fantasies all doubt, all fear, all apprehension slipped away. Every so often you could feel one of them wrap arms around you, protecting and tender, and you’d catch the scent of leather, coffee and sandalwood. Sometimes though on nights you were lucky, when the witching hour muffled the sounds of the world around you deathly silent you could hear him speak your name. That was your favorite part, his voice was low and rough, but there was a sweetness to it when he spoke to you. On nights when his voice wasn’t there to lull you to sleep your world seemed emptier, sadder.

People came and went, ordering drinks and food, small talk, flirting, and you just went through the motions your head stuck in the clouds, not really there. You heard the way they talked about you though, when they thought you weren’t listening. How you’d just magically appeared one day two months ago which meant you were fresh meat, and how fascinating you were because of your amnesia, you couldn’t have been more in the center of attention if you’d painted a target on your back. You were shiny and new, mysterious and uninterested in the world around you which meant that you were a challenge, and if you knew nothing else- it was that men loved a challenge.

The same group of guys almost every time you worked all hovering over the same three tables night after night, it was a small town, and they all worked at the factory just a few miles down the road. They were friendly enough initially, welcoming you to town, asking you questions you couldn’t give answers to. Hell at first you’d even venture to say they were nice, they tipped well, and a few of them seemed to go out of their way trying to make you feel at home. Until word got out about your little condition. You weren’t sure who spilled the beans, it was something you’d kept tight lipped about. You kept to yourself, answered only questions you had a solid response to and just glossed over the rest with a charming smile and dismissive “Oh- you know…” But once word got out that you were broken, that you were vulnerable, and had no one in life who cared about you enough to find you, things changed. Suddenly you were a piece of meat, and each one of those men wanted a bite.

The change in the air was so abrupt it was almost suffocating, you knew they had been flirty in the beginning but now they were downright barbaric in the chase. Unrelenting and unabashedly forward, you could feel their eyes burning into you everywhere you walked. Cat calls, and filthy whispers when they thought you couldn’t hear them.

“Oh I’d give her something to remember.”

“Maybe I could jog her memory.”

“I’d do things to her she’d never forget.”

It sent chills up your spine every time something came out of their mouths, and it took every fiber of your being not to smash a beer bottle over Parker Delaney’s head when he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into his lap one night. His foul breath reeking of beer and hot wings, greasy fingers digging into your hips hard enough he might leave bruises. That was it, that was when something in you snapped and you shot you an elbow connecting with his nose, leaving it black and blue and disfigured, and he was pissed. Thankfully Benny stepped in keeping Parker’s rage at bay, but none of them ever looked at you quite the same after that. Now they looked at you not only like they wanted you, but like they also wanted to hurt you.

“We shouldn’t be here.” Sam said, his leg bouncing anxious and shaking the entire car as he shifted in the seat of the Impala. He knew how difficult this was for Dean, but it’d happened for a reason, and he’d been against the decision from day one but his brother had his mind made. There was no arguing with him after that, but this didn’t sit right with him, this wasn’t something to flip-flop over. “You know what Cas said: don’t go poking at it.”

“I know what Cas said Sam. Just give me ten minutes, one beer, okay?” Dean shot back, irritated by his brothers audacity to remind him of the harsh truth he was already more than aware of. Sam’s face stiffened, he knew it was a bad idea, it wouldn’t be just one beer, or just ten minutes, but the pleading look on Dean’s face, the pain in his eyes, he just couldn’t refuse. It’d been months and against his own better judgment he couldn’t keep himself away anymore. There was a job in the next town and both Sam and Bobby said that someone else should pick it up and take care of it, but he was insistent. They knew the real reason he was so hellbent on working the case, and it wasn’t because of the thing snatching people in the woods, it was her.

“Alright, fine. One beer, but we keep our distance.”

“Got it, here to observe only.” That was all he needed as he slid out of the car a little too quickly, his nerves getting to him, making him jittery. He walked up to the door of the bar his hand resting on the handle but unable to open it. Doubt crept into his mind fogging his previously solid plan. He’d been so sure, just one look, just to peek in and make sure she was alright and that would be enough for him. He’d be satisfied and never come back. But now that only a solid wooden door stood in his way he wasn’t so sure anymore. Sam stood behind him patiently awaiting a decision, not wanting to steer him one way or the other but they couldn’t stand at the door forever; he cleared his throat and Dean jumped back to reality, pulling the door open.

They slipped through the crowd of people finding a hightop in the corner, Dean’s eyes searching for one familiar face in the sea of locals.

“Maybe she’s not here tonight.” Sam offered, trying to soften the blow when Dean disheartened, couldn’t seem to find her.

“No, she’s here.”

“Well how do you know that? She’s gotta go home sometime right? Can’t work all the time.”

“I just know.”

“It’s not like it came from a reliable source. I mean Jackson Cleveland? The guy can barely spell his own name.”

“So?”

“So… He told us he saw someone who might be her here more than three months ago. Even if it was her there’s nothing saying she’d still be here now.”

“Might is good enough for me.”

“Look, Dean I know you feel guilty about what happened, and I know you care about her-”

“Then you know why I have to make sure she’s okay.” Dean cut him off flatly and finishing the conversation. Sam pursed his lips and leaned back in his seat, knowing that nothing he could say would change a damn thing. Barely a minute had passed, but damn if it didn’t feel like a fucking eternity, each second ticking by agonizingly slow. Dean ran his palm over his face trying to wipe away the anxiety, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice come from behind him.

“Hey there guys, I’m Y/n, can I start you off with something to drink?” You asked, a chipper smile on your face, as you laid down napkins, when you turned to look over your table you were stunned by the two gods who’d just sat in your section. You might have been more excited had the one with the perfectly pouty lips not been staring at you like he’d seen a ghost. The one with long dark hair cleared his throat snapping the other out of his trance.

“Yeah, thanks, two beers, and he’ll take a double of whiskey.” Sam answered quickly.

“Okay, coming right up.” You said, walking away quickly. You’d had a few strange encounters now but that one was going to stick with you. You walked to the bar and tapped Amber, another waitress on the shoulder and asked if you had something on your face. She shrugged and shook her head as she handed you your order. All the while you could feel his eyes on you, but it wasn’t the starving hungry gaze that Parker and his buddies gave you. This was something else.

“Dude, you’re gonna freak her out, fix you damn face.” Sam demanded leaning forward and swatting Dean in the arm. He jerked away from you and turned his focus back on Sam, knowing he was right. But he couldn’t help it. He’d played this moment over in his head hundreds of times, what he’d say to you, how he’d say it. He’d rehearsed this in his head until he’d played out every possibility, but when you were standing there smiling at him it was different. And it was absolutely heartbreaking knowing that you didn’t recognize him, a part of him had hoped, but it was for the best. After what happened, he didn’t think he could forgive himself, but you didn’t have to continue to suffer, you could have something normal, something safe.

“I know, I can’t help it.”

“Well figure it out, we’re supposed to be keeping our distance, and this is way too close.”

“Alright guys,” you announced, as you set two beer bottle down and a shot glass in front of Dean. You shifted eyes between them locking on to olive green and your heart flipped in your chest making you weak in the knees. You ripped your eyes away finding it so much harder than it should have been for a random face in the crowd, albeit a very handsome one. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, we’re good.” Dean finally answered, you nodded and turned to walk away. “Thanks Y/n.”

Everything froze in place, your whole body going completely solid, as an aching knot wrapped itself tight in your very core. You swallowed hard trying to force down panic, elation? You weren’t even sure how you felt it seemed the full spectrum of emotion had solidified right in the center of your chest. You knew that voice. You turned your head cautious and fully aware that you might have been standing at the edge of something monumental.

“Sorry, what was that?” You were begging him to say your name again, to confirm what you already knew.

“I said thanks… Y/n.” He answered carefully, the look in your eye alerting him to dangerous territory. Breath caught in your chest when he spoke your name again. It was his voice, the same voice that had felt more like home to you than anything else in the last six months. The same voice that made you feel safe when you were alone at night. It was a voice that you were daring to hope about, maybe…

‘Do-Do I know you?” You asked hopeful, your heart swelling and threatening to take over. Sam’s face screwed up as he glared across the table at his brother, wordlessly, and in shock. Dean was taken aback and everything in his mind fizzled out all at once as he laughed and shook his head trying to form words again, but his brain simply would not work short-circuiting in panic.

“What? No! No, I’ve never seen you before in my life. I‘ve never been here before. This is the first time I’ve even been to Aurora, Minnesota.” Dean stammered with a nervous laugh, wincing when Sam kicked him in the leg shooting a face that could only be described as “what the actual fuck?” He gave you an awkward smile before continuing. “Sorry, just got one of those faces I guess.”

It tore him to shreds from the inside out to watch you face when his words landed on you. A little bit light in your eyes flickered and died out right in front of him, and it was his fault. He watched your shoulders drop, and your face fall you whispered a quick “Oh, sorry, my mistake,” before you turned and walked back to the bar to get your next order. All he wanted to do was to hold you, and wrap you up in his arms again, the last six months had been hell on Earth. He told himself it was better this way, your life would be better, you’d have a chance to live normally. No monsters, no worries, no fear of what went bump in the night.

“Dean what the hell was that, you lie professionally and that’s the best you could come up with? Have you lost your mind?”

“What? What did you want me to say?”Dean defended as he threw back his whiskey.

“Man, I told you we shouldn’t have come here.”

“Well good for you Sam, you want a medal or something?”

Trudging to the back you’d intended to pick up food for table seven, but you were in your head again, stuck there replaying his voice in your head over and over. You were certain, you’d know that voice anywhere, and it crushed you that you were wrong. There was a split second of hope that maybe he did know you, maybe he could tell you something about yourself that you didn’t know. Shed some kind of light on the empty fog that clouded your mind.

“Hey, Earth to Y/n. What’s got you makin’ that face for?” Benny called, waving a hand in front of your face until you snapped back to reality.

“I’m not making a face.” You frowned.

“Well ya look awful pensive, more so than usual.”

“Nothing, I just thought I might have remembered something- but I guess I was wrong.” You shrugged trying to brush it off like it wasn’t a colossal deal. Scooping up the food for your table, you turned on heel and left before he could say anything else. Benny always knew when you were lying, you thought you were pretty good at it but apparently he had a better bullshit detector than most people.

You dropped Parker’s plate of hot wings in from of him unceremoniously, you weren’t happy that he was even allowed to come back after last time. But he swore he was just drunk, and didn’t know what he was doing, and it was the only bar in town.

“Hey Y/n, got any plans after work?” Parker said practically drooling down your shirt. Sneering you recoiled in disgust as the potent smell of beer, stale cigarettes and weed hit your nose.

“Yeah Parker, I’m going home and I’m going to bed.”

“Y’know, it’s just not right that you’re all on your own at night. S’dangerous for a woman to be by herself, y’never know who’s out there lurkin’ in the shadows. I’d be happy to keep you company.”

“Yeah I’m sure you would.” You stated abrupt, not willing to play into him tonight. A chill went down your back when his hand wrapped around your wrist as your tried to leave.

“I would, you know that. Y/n I’ve been watchin’ you for months now, I tip you real good, I even apologized real nice for our little domestic spat. What more does a man have to do to get your attention?”

“Let go of me.” You hushed your eyes frozen on a single spot on the table, you didn’t like to be touched. Least of all by Parker Delaney.

“C’mon now Y/n, just let me take you home, give me a chance, I’m sure I could make you real happy, then you ain’t gotta be afraid of what’s out there anymore.”

“The only thing I’m afraid of, Parker, is losing my job if you don’t let go of me- because I’m gonna break you fucking nose again.” You seethed your eyes darting from the table back to him, ready for blood. He smirked at you and gripped your wrist tighter, twisting it in an unnatural way and forcing you closer into his proximity.

“You watch your fuckin’ mouth when you talk to me, bitch. I own this town.” His voice was low, and threatening and there was a very real fear creeping up your spine.

“The lady said let her go.” Dean snarled, stepping behind you and towering over your frame so small compared to his. He’d watched too much of that interaction to stay in his seat, the second Parker put his hands on you he saw red. Fuck the distance he was supposed to be keeping, there was no way in hell he’d let you be manhandled by some hick who clearly didn’t understand the word “no.” Parker eyed him up and down, Dean was taller, and though he was sure pretty, he was much more menacing. He’d seen enough, and spilled enough blood that it was nice and obvious he was someone not to be crossed in a dark alley. And Parker wasn’t quite that stupid, but he wasn’t all that bright either.

“The lady and I were talking, now mind your own.”

“I will, as soon as you let her go.”

“Fine.” Parker said, a light bulb going off in his head, he shoved you into Dean’s chest who wrapped an arm around your shoulders and held you firm to him, as Parker and his crew got up and left.“Y/n, I’ll see you later.”

It felt more like a threat than anything else, but it was quickly washed away with the familiar scent of leather, coffee and sandalwood. His arms felt like home and safety. Dean turned green eyes down to you a tenderness there that was previously nothing but murder.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he stepped back. He wanted to keep you there, to protect you and feel you against him more than anything in the world. He’d give up just about anything to spend one more night with you, but he wasn’t willing to give up your happiness for it. So he pulled himself away from you, every piece of him cracking as he did.

Nodding wordlessly you tried to pull yourself together but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, trying to study his face willing it to reveal something to you.that hole in your chest growing and threatening to swallow you whole, because you knew there was something about him. You knew it, he was important, you heard his voice for the last several months soothing you to sleep, you felt the warmth and his scent radiating from him to you. He cringed under your gaze heartbreaking and lost. Sam patted him on the shoulder, a wordless conversation exchanged and then he left. He left you standing there in the middle of a crowded bar more lost and desolate than you had felt before. If he turned and looked back at you his resolve would crumble like a house of cards, he couldn’t see your face like that. He’d already gotten too close.

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