Supernatural Imagines/One shots

Fight - Dean

Character: Dean
Type: Angst
Word Count: 1122

"You could have gotten seriously hurt! Those sons of bitches weren't like anything we'd ever hunted! You... you could have died! Sam nearly did!"

"Exactly! That's why I left the car - I knew something was wrong! If I hadn't come out, I wouldn't have been able to help get Sam out of there!"

"He would have managed just fine," Dean growls, face flushed with anger, "And anyway - this isn't about him. It's about you deliberately ignoring me."

"I can make my own decisions!" I counteract, earning a scoff from Dean. "I used my judgement and I'm not sorry."

"You're only saying that because you miraculously escaped without a scratch," Dean shouts, oblivious to the throbbing gash in my side that one of the demons delt me. "You were extremely lucky."

"You know what, Dean? I'm sick of being patronised." I spit, turning to storm out of the shabby motel room. Dean grabs my arm harshly, his nails digging into my flesh. "Dean..." I warn, words venomous and threatening. "Let me leave."

"Oh, I'm going to let you leave," he says hysterically, "I'm just telling you to not come back until you're ready to apologise. You're being an unreasonable bitch."

Ouch. My cheeks redden and I rip my arm from his grasp. "Go to hell." I mutter, slamming the door behind me.

I make it about four steps before traitorous tears slip down my face. I wipe them away frantically, hating myself for breaking my number one rule in life - never cry over a guy. I know Dean is angry because he wants to keep me safe, but him calling me a 'bitch', and treating me like a misbehaving child makes my blood boil.

Well, Dean Winchester, you made the mistake of giving me keys to your precious Impala. I accidentally brush against the cut in my side when I retrieve my keys, which makes me wince. I haven't had the chance to deal with it yet. I unlock the door and awkwardly wrap my stomach in an old bandage I find in the dusty glovebox. Then I just drive. I drive into the summer night with music so loud it hurts my ears. Air rushes through the windows, drying my tears and cooling me down.

Dean's POV

"Shit!" I mutter, hitting my head against the wall. Why can I never articulate what I want to say? I've screwed this up big time.

"Dean? I heard everything. I- I don't get it." Sam emerges from the bathroom, clutching an icepack to his purple eye, leaning on the doorframe for support. His bloodied leg is bandaged carefully - courtesy of y/n - and he looks like shit.

"Of course, you don't Sammy." I snarl. I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, and I slump down onto the cheap mattress, holding my head in my hands. "Shit," I repeat, defeated.

"Why would you treat her like that? Especially after she saved me."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I swivel my head to stare at Sam in disbelief, "She didn't save you! Sure, she helped you hobble out of there, but that was it."

"Dean? Are you serious? She literally saved my life! That demon was ready to chop my leg off! Her entrance distracted him enough for you to get a clear shot."

"I don't care. I don't care!" I shake my head.

"Dean..." Sam says sincerely. "You've messed up."

"You think I don't know that?!" I yell, standing up, before pulling my leather jacket over my shoulders.

"She's not going to want to talk to you!" Sam tries to warn me, but I stomp out of the motel, only to see my car isn't there. I stand, almost dazed, on the doorstep, mind racing.

Your POV

I pull up to the creek where I always come to relax. I come here for peace and quiet, often accompanied with a good book.

It looks so different at night.

Everything about my secret hideaway is still and calm.

I retrieve a thick blanket from the trunk and settle into my usual spot - leaning against the big willow tree that overlooks the running stream. I listen to the quiet trickle of the water and take a few needed deep breathes. I count them and lose track of time, letting my eyelids droop closed with fatigue.

It's been a long day.

My eyes snap open after who knows how long later, when I hear the snap of a twig rip through the perfect silence. I take out the knife that I keep in my boot and hold it in front of me defensively. I slowly get up and survey the area.

"It's me."

I freeze. How did he know I was here? I spin around to see Dean with his head bent, looking down at the ground. He's clutching a bunch of flowers as if they were his lifeline and he extends his arms. He looks up and my heart skips a beat. The flicker of love I feel for him is quickly replaced with fire and rage, remembering how he made me feel only hours earlier.

"I know. I was a jerk." he says.

"You were more than a jerk."

"Yes. Yes. I was. I'm sorry. I let my anger get the better of me and I hate myself for it. I never, ever, want to hurt you. I've been running on coffee and adrenaline for the past couple of days - and although that's no excuse - I realise that my stupid habits have turned me into an inconsiderate prick. So please, y/n, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything I said. You were right."

"How did you find me?" I ask, sharper than intended, but I let my crossed arms drop to my sides.

Dean flinches ever so slightly, "I... I followed you once when you came here because I was worried. When I realised this place was just somewhere for you to unwind, I vowed to never disturb you. But... I knew you'd be here, so I walked."

"Walked? How long was I asleep?!"

"Urm," Dean consults his watch, "A few hours. I - y/n. Please forgive me."

I take the offer of flowers and stare at the colourful display. I sigh and meet Dean's penetrating stare. "I forgive you. But you made me feel really shitty."

"I know and I'm -"

"Dean, please," I interrupt, "It was a one off, I know that. Just... if we get into a disagreement again, we should take some time apart to collect our thoughts before we start screaming at each other."

Dean nods his head, "Of course."

"Come here," I say, and Dean immediately envelopes me in a hug. I inhale the distinct smell of leather and whiskey and when he releases me, I smile.