Selfless // Dean Winchester

13. New Emotions

   The sound of a nearby train jolted Y/N awake in the back of the Impala. The first rays of sunshine were creeping into the car. Rubbing her eyes, Y/N sat up and immediately bumped her head on the roof. The events of last night came back to her.

   After getting dressed, which was a struggle, given the tight space, she shook Dean awake, then crawled into the front seat and slipped out of the passenger door.

   Some time later, she and Sam were waiting outside while Dean gathered the rest of his things from their room. Y/N glanced at Sam, who had a scowl on his face.

   "You're mad," she stated.

   "What gave it away?"

   "You didn't find any answers last night, did you?"

   "At least I was looking," he retorted.

   Y/N crossed her arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

   "It means while you and Dean were out doing God knows what, I was trying to find a way to save my brother's life. So, what are you doing here, really? Because it sure doesn't seem like you want to help."

   "What, you think I'm just tagging along because you two are such fun to be around?" she snapped.

   "No, I think you're here because you feel guilty," said Sam. "About what you did to our family, after relying on us to save your life."

   "Don't forget that you were the one to ask for my help in the first place."

   "What's going on?" asked Dean, coming out of the room and locking it behind him.

   Y/N and Sam glanced at each other, then back at him. "Nothing," they said in unison.

   Dean frowned, confused. "Whatever."

   When he walked to the back of the Impala, Y/N took a step closer to Sam. "Listen up- we need to pull it together. For him. We're all he's got, okay? So would you stop giving me a hard time long enough for us to find another lead?"

   He held her gaze. "Fine."

____________________________________________________________

   Eleven months. That's how much time they had before the hellhounds dragged Dean's soul to the bad place. And he didn't seem to care one bit.

   As much as Y/N enjoyed this polite, "determined to go without any regrets" version of him most of the time, there were downsides. First of all, Dean had an extensive bucket list. Places even she had never heard of, hidden tourist traps in Atlantic City or Vegas. In fact, they didn't work on another actual case until a visit to Los Angeles in mid-June (according to Sam, Dean made the deal at the start of May).

   "Witches," said Dean, holding up a hex bag with his fingertips. "Why did it have to be witches?"

   They were inspecting a house in a suburban neighborhood just outside LA where a teenage boy had evidently drowned in the living room. Y/N sighed when she saw the hex bag. During her time helping hunters out, she'd had awful experiences with those things.

   "Are you finished up in here?" came a voice from the doorway.

   Sam, Dean, and Y/N turned to see the police officer who'd let them into the house. "Yeah," said Dean, slipping the hex bag into his pocket. They made their way out of the house.

   Y/N had never impersonated an FBI agent before. When the idea was first proposed the day before, she was dubious, but it was better than having to stay behind and let the boys do all the work. Sam had constructed a fake badge for her, with the alias Courtney Carson. The name wouldn't have been Y/N's first choice, but it could be worse.

   Now, as they went down the front steps and across the yard, she tugged at the itchy collar of her shirt. "How you guys do this all the time, I'll never understand."

   "So, someone around here had something against this kid," remarked Sam. "I'm thinking an angry girlfriend? Ex? Someone from school?"

   "Hex bags are complicated," said Y/N. "I can't imagine someone so young knowing such advanced witchcraft."

   "Maybe they went to a witch for help."

   "This place has zero record of anything supernatural," Dean pointed out, opening his car door.

   "The parents did say he had a girlfriend." Y/N got into the back of the Impala, eager to get back to the motel so she could change out of this scratchy shirt, blazer, and short pencil skirt. "Say he cheated- she gets mad, goes to a witch for help, gets her revenge."

   As soon as Sam was inside, Dean started the car. Y/N still drove her Mustang when they traveled long-distance, but going to and from motels, it was easier to all ride in the Impala.

   Dean glanced in the rearview mirror to see Y/N undoing the top two buttons of her shirt. His gaze met hers. Y/N gave him a look as though to say, Just drive already, and he did, with the hint of a smirk on his lips. Fortunately, Sam was obliviously staring out the window, deep in thought.

   Y/N did the same, watching the nearly identical houses pass by as they left the neighborhood. She was well aware of her rapidly changing emotions. This whole time, she'd been tagging along to save Dean from Hell, to satisfy her conscience about hurting John and to repay him for saving her life from the kanima. As for their nights spent together, well, that was only for fun.

   But now she was starting to like him.

   Dean was supposed to be her way of making wrongs right, and having an occasional good time in the process. Now, not only did she care whether he lived or died, she cared whether he was happy or sad. She enjoyed his presence.

   This is bad.