Falling for a Hunter (Female Reader x Dean Winchester)

Book 2 Chapter 2: Mama Mia

Shorter chapter this time. I was pretty busy these last couple of weeks, so sorry if it might feel rushed in certain places. 

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It had been 48 hours since the attack by the strange woman, and in that time, every lead Dean had found from her phone led you and the group to nothing but dead ends. You scoured the area where she'd made her last call, combing through empty warehouses, long-abandoned houses, and desolate streets. Each step you took filled you with the hope that Sam might be nearby, but every corner turned up empty. Just more silence. More waiting.

Eventually, Dean had no choice but to call it. With frustration etched in his features, he made the hard decision to drive you and Mary back to the bunker, leaving Castiel to continue the search alone. Dean's heart was clearly torn. On one hand, his loyalty to Sam gnawed at him, urging him to keep pushing, to never give up. But on the other, his gaze constantly flicked to you and Mary. He wanted—needed—to help you both adjust to this strange world you'd come back to. So, reluctantly, he drove the Impala away from the trail, back to where things might make a little more sense.

After stopping to buy you and Mary entirely new wardrobes, you found yourselves seated around the large conference table in the bunker. The quiet hum of the bunker's lights cast an eerie calm over the room, contrasting the emotional storm swirling inside you. Dean sat across from you and Mary, tapping his fingers against the table—nervous energy coursing through him as he debated where to begin.

The weight of all that had been lost, all that had changed, hung between you like an unspoken shadow. Dean knew he had to help you both make sense of it all, especially Mary. After all, she'd been gone the longest, her absence stretching back decades, through countless changes that made the world unrecognizable to her. And though your return was a shock, Mary's was something even more daunting.

Dean started slowly, carefully choosing his words as he unraveled the story of his life. His voice was steady, but each word carried a weight that hinted at the pain he tried so hard to bury. He recounted the early years, the long road trips with John and Sam, the nights spent hunting monsters as a kid. How every hunt, every fight, was another attempt to get revenge for the life stolen from them—one driven by the hope that they might one day find the yellow-eyed demon responsible for Mary's death.

He paused for a moment, eyes distant as he remembered Bobby, the gruff but loving surrogate father who had stepped in when they needed it most. "Bobby was a lifeline," Dean said, his voice softening. "He took us in like we were his own... no questions asked. Without him, I don't know where we'd be."

As Dean spoke, there was something different about him. The usual edge of anger that colored his memories of their upbringing wasn't as sharp as it used to be. He talked about the pain and trauma they endured, but for the first time, there was no bitterness when he mentioned John. No resentment. Instead, there was understanding, a hard-earned acceptance. His voice was filled with a surprising sense of peace, almost as if he'd made his peace with his father's flaws, his mistakes. Dean had lived enough life, lost enough of the people he loved, to understand what grief could do to a person.

"I used to be angry," Dean admitted, his eyes shifting to you for a brief moment before returning to Mary. "At Dad. For how he raised us. For how he threw us into this life. But now... I get it. I get why he was the way he was. After losing you..." He faltered for a second, swallowing hard as he fought to keep his composure. "I get it. He did everything he could. And without all of that, I probably wouldn't be the man I am today."

There was a quiet bravado in his words—a kind of acceptance you'd never seen before. He wasn't glorifying the pain, but he wasn't blaming it anymore either. It was a stark contrast to the Dean you remembered. The man who had always carried the weight of his family's trauma like an anchor, pulling him down at every turn. This version of Dean had somehow found a way to balance it all, to live with it.