Falling for a Hunter (Female Reader x Dean Winchester)

Chapter 39: Acid Rain

Hello!! Hope you all like this chapter. I titled it after the Avenge Sevenfold song of the same name. I went back and forth between this song and "Fiction." Honestly, either would work and I HIGHLY recommend checking out both songs as they are beautiful pieces of music. 

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The search for answers about Purgatory feels endless. You, Bobby, Sam, and Dean have been pouring over dusty tomes and worn-out journals for days. Every lead falls short, every new chapter ends in frustration. It's grueling work, but Dean's been particularly wound tight since last night—more so than usual. His silent, simmering determination to bring down Castiel and Crowley is palpable, putting you on edge too. You've always wanted to help him, to do your part in saving the world, but now it feels like that need is consuming you. The bigger picture—the fight, the cause—has taken over your every thought. You've almost forgotten the part where Death's bargain would cost you your soul, relinquishing it from his grip. You don't think about that anymore. You can't afford to.

Everything has become routine. You grab a book, flip through its pages, toss it in the "read" pile, and move on to the next one. No breaks, no discussions, just reading—over and over, the monotony only broken by the occasional grunt of frustration from Bobby or Sam. Even Dio, your dog, hasn't been around. You haven't had time to walk him, not in the last three days. Jody's been kind enough to watch him, and the thought of Dio staying with her brings a pang of guilt. But there's no room for anything else right now. Not even for your sweet dog.

Dean pushes back his chair, the wooden legs scraping harshly against the floor. "Shit, we're out of beer," he mutters, surveying the kitchen table, littered with empty bottles and torn pieces of scrap paper, hastily written notes scrawled across them. His voice is low, tired, as he tosses the last bottle into the trash. The clang of glass against metal sounds like defeat.

"I can go get some," you offer with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood, though you feel just as drained as he does.

"It's not a big deal," Dean says, waving off the offer, but the frustration in his voice betrays him. Before you can argue, Bobby emerges from the cellar, his arms stacked with more books—older, dustier, heavier. The sight of them only adds to the weight already hanging in the air.

Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe you should, actually..."

You grab your keys from the counter, trying to shake off the exhaustion. "Anything else while I'm out?" you ask, looking between the three men, though their eyes never leave the pages in front of them. Sam grunts, flipping through another journal, and Bobby mutters something incoherent under his breath as he scribbles in his notebook.

Dean, however, steps closer, his eyes softening as he looks at you. His hands glide up and down your arms, the familiar warmth of his touch grounding you for just a moment in the middle of all this chaos. "You want me to come with you?" he offers, his voice gentle, almost hopeful.

You chuckle softly. "I think I can manage picking up a case of beer on my own," you say, flashing him a wink. But as you reach for the door, Dean pulls you back, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his thumb brushing your cheek with that same tenderness that always catches you off guard. He's worn down, but there's love in that touch, something quiet and steady.

"Call me if you run into trouble," he says, his brow furrowed slightly, still not quite ready to let you go.

Before you can respond, he hands you something—the demon blade. You raise an eyebrow, looking at him with amusement. "You really think I need this just to run to the store?"

Dean shrugs, his lips twitching into a small, half-smile, but there's a seriousness in his eyes. "Better safe than sorry," Bobby calls from the living room, never looking up from his book.