#supernaturals worst decision was getting rid of sams demon blood and i will stand by that til the day i die | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luci-in-trenchcoats · 7 years

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Not Your Dean (Part 17)

Summary: One day Dean shows up and moves back into the bunker. The only problem is he’s a demon and he’s hiding something…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Pairing: Demon!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Things are a happening....

You could tell Dean was really thinking about ridding you of your infection. You caught him staring more than was normal and you did your best to stay relaxed, to show him you could be trusted. You had a few more days before you knew Sam would want to separate you from Dean for good.

“No pressure,” you muttered to yourself as you made a cup of coffee. Dean was still in bed when you left and Sam was already out for a run. You debated making breakfast without them but the sound of the bunker door opening told you Sam was home. “Let’s see, what do we got for eggs...”

You spun around too quickly though and your hand knocked over your mug, spilling the hot liquid all over the counter and floor.

“Shit!” you yelled, pulling your hand away as it burned slightly. “Seriously?” you said, staring at the mess in front of you. Your blood felt like it was boiling as you watched the ceramic mug fly across the room and hit the wall. You took a step back, unclear on what exactly had just happened.

Sam hadn’t come in yet and you dashed off towards your room while you had a chance to get your head on straight.

“Dean,” you said, shaking his shoulder, hearing his grumbles beneath you.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbled into his pillow, keeping his eyes shut.

“Did you make that mug fly across the room?” you asked, obvious panic in your voice.

“No,” said Dean, popping open one eye. “Why did you?”

“I don’t know,” you said, staring at your perfectly fine hand that should have been red and scorched up. “Something’s...” you said, concern flashing over Dean’s face. “I’m fine, it was my imagination.”

“It’s starting,” said Dean, running his hands over his face.

“What is? What are you talking about?” you said, kneeling next to the bed, Dean’s face hard.

“The infection, it was always going to lead to this. Try to understand sweetheart,” said Dean, reaching a hand out to stroke your head. “It’s...going to change you.”

“N-No,” you said, pulling back, not needing to ask what it was about to change you into. “Please Dean.”

“Is being one my kind not good enough for you?” asked Dean, sitting up in bed, glaring at you. You’d gotten good at this game too though.

“I just didn’t realize that everything, none of it mattered to you. You say you love me and you can’t stand me, can’t accept me for who I am,” you said, keeping your voice sad instead of angry. “I did it for you. I trust you. I’m just glad to know you’ll never care for me the same way I do for you.”

“Y/N, you know that’s not true,” said Dean, swinging his legs over the bed, reaching out to hold your hands.

“I’m not good enough for you,” you said, staring him in the eye as you let him take your hands in his.

“Y/N, you’re everything I could ever want. Fuck, I mean we were made for each other. Literally,” said Dean, tugging you to sit on his lap. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

“No, Dean, it doesn’t,” you said, turning your head finding his right next to yours. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t...forget it. Change me and you’ll never have to worry about me ever arguing with you again. I’ll be your perfect little demon girlfriend, doing whatever you want.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, his grip on you lax enough that you could slip out before he knew better. “Sweetheart, let’s talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you spat back, your anger getting the better of you. “You’ll make a decision and I’ll live with it. That’s how it always is Dean. Why should this be any different,” you said, walking out of the room.

By the time you got back to the kitchen, you were calmer but colder as well, like the argument you’d just had didn’t bother you much.

“Y/N, did you and Dean have a fight?” asked Sam, soaking up the last of the coffee with a towel.

“Apparently I’m turning into a demon. My mother did used tell me I was a little devil all the time,” you said, picking up the mug’s broken pieces with your bare hands, the tiny cuts healing themselves quickly.

“Our lives are so fucked up,” said Sam, running his hands against his face. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I just pissed off Dean so chances of him doing the one freaking thing I’ve always wanted from him are shot to shit,” you said, throwing the trash in the garbage. “Why won’t he trust me Sam? I love him and he won’t give it back.”

Sam’s face told you he hoped that what you were saying wasn’t true but he could sense a small part of it was. You’d had many of these “talks.” Sometimes Dean heard them, others he didn’t, but they were always meant for him in case he was lurking by a doorway. It was only when you and Sam were alone, far away from Dean did you ever speak openly.

“I don’t know sweetie,” said Sam, walking to give you a hug. He was scared too you realized, the thought of not only Dean but you as well turning into a black eyed monster probably enough to make him want to do something stupid.

“Take care of me, if I change. You got to do it, I don’t want to be that way,” you said, holding Sam tight.

“Okay,” said Sam, shushing you as you turned your head into his chest. To be honest, you weren’t sure he’d do it but anything to scare the crap out of Dean was good with you. If he was going to make you lose everything, you weren’t giving him the satisfaction of getting to keep you too. “Go settle down in your room, and I mean your room, Y/N,” said Sam, wanting to separate you from Dean today. “I’ll bring you some hot chocolate when I’m done cleaning up.”

“I’m not a child. You don’t have to coddle me,” you said, shrugging out of his hold. Sam looked hurt and you relented. No wonder Dean was an ass all the time. He must have been trying to be as nice as he was now. “Thanks,” you said, smiling as you went back to your room.

About ten minutes later, Sam was setting a mug down on your bedside table, covering you with a blanket.

“Dean made it for you,” said Sam, your desire to have any of it long gone. “He made one for himself too.”

“What?” you asked, sitting upright. Sam shrugged. “Dean never has that unless...”

“Unless he really wants a drink,” said Sam, staring at the back of his hands. “He remembers that fight you two had, where you told him to make some stupid hot chocolate whenever he felt so bad that he needed to drink away whatever was bothering him.”

“Something’s bothering him then,” you said, letting your interest fade away.

“I think he likes you as a human,” said Sam, your snort evident.

“I don’t like me as a human, Sam,” you said, raising your voice. “I used to be strong and didn’t take people’s shit and stood up for myself. Now it’s don’t piss off Dean, don’t upset Dean, what will make Dean happy? The worst part is, I love him anyways. He’s right, I’m a freaking joke.”

“No, you’re not,” said Sam, squeezing your hand, forcing you to look up. His eyes found yours as he tried to remind you of just how strong you had been this whole time.

“I want some space alone for a while, Sam,” you said, giving a tiny smile. “I’ll come get you if I start speaking in tongues.”

“Dork,” said Sam, ruffling your hair as he got up.

“Loser,” you said back, your back and forth game almost a distant memory it’d been so long.

Both boys gave you space that day, Sam because you asked, Dean, you weren’t quite sure why. You waited until late at night before opening Dean’s door and crawling into bed with him.

“Didn’t think you’d come in,” said Dean quietly, waking as you turned away from him.

“I can leave if you want,” you said, Dean’s arm not falling over your waist like it did every other night.

“Y/N, I want you to do what you want to do and I’ll respect it either way,” said Dean, his palm resting flat against your back. You pulled his arm over you, snuggling back into him before responding.

“Night, Dean,” you said, staring at the wall.

“Night, Y/N. I love you,” said Dean. “Tomorrow, I’ll make things right between us, I promise.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

Maybe tomorrow you’d read that letter. You had a strange feeling it might be your last day as a human and you wanted to hear your Dean’s voice one last time. Even if all you got was a few words on a page.

A/N: Read Part 18 here!

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