The Unrequited (Dean x Male Reader)

At The Threshold of Days Past

8 Months Later

"Might want to put it down for tonight, boy," You heard Bobby's voice cutting through the calm silence of the night, surprising you. 

"You're supposed to be asleep, old man."

"That's enough," he said, walking up to you and taking the bottle of Scotch from your hand. You let him take it and looked away. You couldn't get yourself to look into his eyes, awash with anguish and concern. He cared for you too much for his own good. He didn't deserve this.

But again, neither did you.

He sighed as you walked away from the small makeshift bar you had made from the living room drawer. You could feel his eyes on you with heard the clinking of the bottles as he put everything back in order. "You worry me too much, Y/N," he said in his low musky voice. "Why are you doing this to me? To yourself?" 

"Goodnight, old man," you said but he spoke again just as you were about to leave the room, making you stop in your tracks.

"Dean's coming tomorrow."

You halted, a heartbeat astray, as if the very essence of you, like spirits from a bottle, had been poured away. In that instant, a sudden awareness of the world behind gripped you, your ears flushed with a distant passion, and the sleep that you were so looking forward to fled from your eyes. You turned around slowly, your head still dizzy as your gaze met Bobby's, reflecting a shared sense of trouble and unease. A surge of emotions flooded and soaked you, threatening to crumble your knees, wanting nothing but to be held and weep, to be told that everything was going to be okay just like eight months ago when John had left you here the first time. 

Yet, it was not how it was eight months ago. You had not know each other then. To be held by a stranger is far more bearable than breaking down in front of someone you had grown to love and know as nothing less of a father, knowing how deep your tears would cut into his soul if he saw you cry. 

"I hope he dies on the way," you said, turned around, and left for your room. You turned on the music, partly to be sure Bobby wouldn't be able to hear you cry or yell and partly to not drown in the chirping of the morning birds that were just starting to wake up with the first signs of dawn - their cheerful voices too unrealistic for your heart that still ached with betrayal, hurt, and fear.

Alas, neither did tears come to you now that you were alone and nor did sleep. You lay in your bed over the covers, still in your work pants that Bobby had gotten you to work in at the garage and wondered if it would be your last night in this bed. You wondered if Dean was coming to take you. You were obliged to go with him if he asked you to.

A part of you dreamed a simple tale of whimsy and hope that he would not come alone. That he had secretly gotten together with someone else during this time and he would greet you with a solemn smile, ask you for a divorce, and part ways forever never to be seen again. It would be much better than having to go back with someone you had once been compelled to love and imagine the rest of your life with who was now nothing but a figure of pure despise and hatred in your body and mind. 

***

You were still in your room when you heard the Impala pull into the garage, your heart beating faster and thoughts still whirring in your head. 

"Y/N?" Bobby knocked at your door and called you to come downstairs. You hadn't talked after last night and he had simply left your breakfast and coffee next to your bed in the morning. You gathered yourself before downing a pill for your headache with one last sip from your now-cold coffee. 

You could hear Bobby's voice, overpowering Dean's, and you knew they were talking about what had happened. Bobby was clearly angry so you decided to linger a bit before walking downstairs when they calmed down a little.

"You're saying that you-" Bobby stopped immediately when you walked in and you felt very awkward, suddenly so starkly conscience of each step you took into the room. Dean stood up to greet you, half-expecting a hug but you simply sat down on the couch that Dean was sitting on, mostly to avoid sitting opposite from him. You didn't want to look at him even though you could see from the side of your vision that he was blatantly staring at you as he sat back down.

"How have you been?" He asked, his voice raspy but surprisingly sober. 

"Alright," You said, reaching over and grabbing Bobby's mug from the table to take a sip from his tea. It was too sweet, just like you'd expected, but it was good enough. 

"You kids talk, I'm going to get on with making lunch," Bobby said, getting up. He was still visibly angry and was very clearly deliberately removing himself from the situation. 

"Don't bother," Dean said, standing up. "Gotta get going, we won't stay for lunch."

"So what? You first dump him here and show up whenever you want just to grab him and leave?" 

"Bobby-"

"Stay out of this, Y/N," He snapped, glaring at you but almost instantly calmed down. He looked down, dejected as if accepting defeat and realizing that nothing could be done. He turned to Dean and simply said, "You two can go after lunch," He said and walked back into the kitchen.

"I've never seen him so worked up," Dean said to you with an awkward chuckle, trying to lighten the atmosphere that had suddenly gotten so dark and threatening. "What'd you do to him?"

"Where are we going?" You asked, finally looking back at him with a nonchalant physiognomy. 

He held your gaze for a second and nodded, as if in a self-realization that things simply can't just be forgotten. "Dad's gone missing," he said, his uneasy smile now entirely vanished from his face. "I need your help to look for him."

"My help? What am I going to do?" You said, shocking both Dean and you with the stern emotional restraint and balance in your voice. Dean, in particular, looked taken aback.

"You've changed," he said, his eyebrows raised. He looked down at his hands and shook his head with a slight smile. He put his left hand on your thigh before looking back up again, "I missed you, you know."

"I'll need to pack my things," You got up, quickly moving away from his touch, and left.