Supernatural Season Three: A Dean Winchester Love Story

Bedtime Stories (1)

Bedtime Stories (1)

Dear Diary,

Isn't that what girls my age write? You know before they spill all there dirty little secrets in one little journal that was probably picked up from the dollar store? And it was pink! Pink! Of all colors for John Winchester to pick out, he chose a color that I had slowly grown to ate. Pink reminded me of weakness. That's what being a woman was, weakness right? How many times did daddy have to beat in my head that I was a woman, therefore I am weak. I was made to serve man and to keep to myself. So, why is it that everything he told me  seemed like a lie? I shouldn't question him, I know better, but daddy wasn't here anymore. I was in the hands of Winchester men, and they all seemed to be concerned. It started off with Dean who would try to do anything to make me talk, he would tell stupid jokes (That were actually hilarious) or he would try to check my wounds that were nothing but raised scars now. Then there was John who would try to ask me questions, but when he saw that I wasn't answering he gave me this notebook. He said his wife would keep one to let everything out, and maybe I should too. I thought it was dumb at first, but the longer I seem to stay with the three boys, the more I found my fingers reaching for the pen. I don't even know what to write in here. I'm on my own, and nothing is going to change that.
Not even John Winchester.

"I don't understand, Dean. Why not?" Sam snapped, his anger clear on his red face, his body tense.

"Because I said so." Dean snapped back without any real reason.

My eyes flickered between the two boys, my fingers running over the furry pink diary that told a lot about the woman I had became today. I had only started reading it last night, not able to sleep. That's when Sam had discussed the plan on going after the crossroads demon. Dean had turned it down entirely without true cause, but I could see something was bothering him. There was a glint in his eye, a fear filled glint, and they kept aiming in my direction.

"We got the Colt now." I said, speaking up from the backseat, I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, watching the oldest hunter.

"Kylie." Dean growled out warningly, there was something he wasn't telling us, something with his deal.

"We can summon the Crossroads Demon-" Sam started right before they began shouting over each, both of them red in the face with frustration.

"We're not summoning anything!" Dean shouted.

"Well then we'll just shoot her! If she dies then the deal goes away!" Sam argued, trying to sound louder than his older brother.

"We don't know if that'll work either, Sam!" He snapped with authority. "All your pitching me right now is a bunch of 'ifs' and 'maybes' and that's not good enough, because if we screw with this deal," his green orbs met mine, "Kylie dies."

Sometimes I wondered how Dean thought of himself in the world. Why he thought I deserved to live more than he did. God knows the world was better off with him and not me.

"And if we don't screw with it, you die!"

"Sam, Enough!" Dean raised his voice in a way that made me cower in my seat. Something about the loud bold authoritative made me feel like a kid being scolded.

"Why?" Sam rolled his eyes. "Because you said so?" He asked, still pissed, but more annoyed.

"Yes, because I said so!" Dean let out angrily, wanting to end the conversation more than anything.

"We'll you're not Dad!" 

Sam had hit a nerve, Dean went quiet for a moment, his eyes trained on the open road ahead of him. His body was stiff as a board, his fists clenched around the steering wheel.