I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader] Book 2

Moribund

I felt cold. For the first time in a very long time, my blood didn't feel as if it were running thick with fire. I should have been angry, burning up inside, putting up a fight-

I could barely lift my arms from my sides.

Four days.

Four days since Dean had been killed. Three since his burial. Not that the time had any meaning to me. Nothing felt like it had meaning anymore.

This was worse than when Sam was killed. Sam... that had been pain. Pain was manageable. This felt like a piece of me had been cut out; my heart, the very thing made to keep my body warm, was gone, ripped apart.

Was this how humans felt, before a monster killed them?

I couldn't move.

Sam's words fell on deaf ears, but he didn't care. He leaned against the Impala, eyes turned to the horizon, short, clipped sentences tumbling from his lips.

"He won't stay dead," he assured, oozing empty promises. "I'll make sure of it. I'll bring him back."

There was no goodbye. No 'I'll see you soon.' No 'stay in touch.' He left without a trace. He changed his phone number soon after – all of his phones were decommissioned. I knew they would be. I didn't bother trying to call him.

I wasn't sure how much time passed before I felt like I could move again. I remained still when Booth came to check on me, buried under a mess of blankets on a cold mattress. He spoke of the pack, of growing tensions, cruel words twisting the opinions of others.

I didn't eat. Couldn't make myself eat, couldn't move, couldn't think.

It wasn't until I was sure days had passed that I was enveloped in beckoning darkness. Warmth, for the first time in... I shifted in the darkness, my movements swallowed by the silence. The atmosphere was so thick, I felt as if I was choking. There was no air, no light, no sound. Just me.

I know you're here, I stated, allowing my thoughts to echo in the darkness. What do you want now?

Are you well? a familiar voice echoed back. I pivoted to face the white wolf, towering over me with red eyes that gleamed with remorse and compassion. It was odd to see him so emotional.

The love of my life is dead, and you're asking me if I'm well? I spat, thoughts laced with venom.

You haven't eaten.

I've eaten some.

No hearts, he answered, cocking his head. One ear drooped slightly, fur pristine and unmarked. I tugged at my messy hair, pulling it in front of my mangled ear. It will kill you.

Maybe I'm fine with that.

No, you are not.

I fell silent, watching him intently. The wolf shook out his fur and lowered his head so he was on eye level. I scowled at his unmarred features. Perfect fur, unblemished, untouched. Ethereal.

I lost my partner, he spoke, voice soft, softer than I had ever heard it. A very long time ago. I am certain even the deserts she loved no longer remember her name. His ears sagged, his gaze dropping to the darkness beneath his paws in thought. But I moved on. There were others who needed me.

It's been days-

- I had a daughter, he continued, leveling me with a calculating stair. My brows rose in shock. And she had a son, eventually. And he had a daughter. And still I moved on. I became what was needed of me.