Supernatural Preferences {Oneshots, Preferences, Imagines}

Hard To Say Goodbye {Dean Imagine}

twerksfuriously

***

Dean pressed a kiss to your lifeless lips, and a tear fell from his eye to your body beneath him. He managed to kill all the ghouls , but not before they took you. And he'll never be able to change that.

He didn't protect you, and now he must pay for it.

Your blank eyes stared straight through him, up at the cobwebbed ceiling of the room. You were nothing but a bloody mess on the linoleum floor. Soulless, broken.

"I can't live without you," Dean sobbed into your neck. But he knew he had to try.

They gave you the funeral of a hunter, of course. You died like one, so you deserve to go out like one, too - out of respect, if nothing else. And it was beautiful. Nobody said anything, they were all too choked up to even try, but Castiel spent the whole day finding flowers in your favourite colour, just to decorate your pyre.

And when it came to it, Dean couldn't watch those flowers burn.

He just stared at his shoes like they were the most interesting things in the world, and ran his fingers over the ring he was holding. The ring that was going to be yours.

He was going to ask you, the night it happened. But he never got a chance.

He threw the ring to the fire, and watched as the flames swallowed it and you.

It all happened too fast. It seemed only seconds had passed since he heard you scream, yet just from looking at you he could tell it had been longer, too long.
Your blood was pooled all around and your arms were tied behind you. Pain. All he saw was the pair and terror in your eyes, and the exact moment that everything faded from them.

After a few hours, Sam lays a hand lightly on his brother's shoulder. "C'mon, Dean."

"No. You go if you want."

Sam sighs and kneels beside his brother in the dirt before your grave, and there's a tense silence between them both until he speaks again.

"You know this isn't your fault, Dean."

But he knows something Sammy hadn't known.

You were pregnant when you died.

He lost his girlfriend, and his kid, all because he couldn't get there quick enough. He assumed you could handle it, even though you told them both you didn't feel up to it that day.

He killed you. At least, that's what he believes.

"I'm cold," you choked out. Everything felt fuzzy, far away. As though you were looking at the world through water. You faintly felt Dean's arms tighten around you, and heard him scream for Sam. "Shh," you told him. You knew it was already too late. You could feel yourself drifting away, and your lungs wouldn't let you take another breath. You closed your eyes and it all disappeared.

Castiel actually knocked on the door, for once, rather than just appearing. Dean didn't invite him in but after a few seconds the door opened anyway.

"Dean? Do you want something to eat? I got your favourite." He offers up a brown paper bag, and the smell of bacon cheeseburgers leaks into the room. Dean does nothing but wrinkle up his nose.

"No thanks. I'm not hungry."

Castiel tips his head to the side, confused. "But you're always hungry."

Dean sighs. "Go away, Cas."

"Is it because you miss her?"

He swallows the lump in his throat and lets out a breath that it burned to hold. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

"Go away, Cas. Please."

"What the hell happened?"

"I let her out of my sight. I thought she was behind me, Sammy." Dean's voice broke and his eyes didn't meet Sam's, not even for a second. Sam reached out tentatively to check the wounds. He held a hand beneath your nose, checking your breathing. Then he took up your wrist and checked for a pulse, even a weak one - just something to give him a little bit of hope.

Sam was silent for a long time after that, and his voice shook when he eventually found it. "Is she-"

"Yeah. She is."

Dean sips at a bitter coffee in an attempt to wake himself up a little. He's barely been sleeping since he lost you, and it's starting to take its toll. His eyes are duller and dark circles surround them, almost every sentence is punctuated with a yawn. Sam sits in silence opposite him, researching things on his laptop. Dean hasn't ordered anything to eat, and that's not unusual for him these days. He's a whole lot thinner, and everybody notices it.

"There are demons in Arizona. I think we could track them," Sam informs Dean. "A murder. But it sounds like the guy was possessed."

"You and Bobby can handle it," Dean responds in a monotone.

"It'd be easier with you."

"Ain't that a bitch," Dean says, and he rises to his feet to leave.

"And I was going to buy you a house. For you and the baby. A big, beautiful house with roses in the garden. I was going to get a real job," he whispered, his lips just millimetres away from your ear. But you couldn't hear a word of it, couldn't hear anything anymore.

"I love you more than anything, sweetheart," he mumbled, and the tears began to fall when he realised you'd never say it back again.

Dean's finally left the motel. But only because he ran out of booze there, and the bar down the street was easier to find than the liquor store. He sits as far from everyone as he can manage, and the only sound he makes comes from the two words he mumbles when he orders his drink.

"Hey, handsome," says the barmaid, sitting beside Dean. She places his whiskey beside his hand, and smiles up at him. If he would only bother to look at her, he would see that she was beautiful. But his gaze barely rose from the floor.

"Hi."

"What brings you to this neck of the woods?" She twirls a lock of brown hair around her finger.

"Work."

"All work and no play? Isn't that kind of dull?"

"I guess."

"Not a talker, huh? It's okay, doll. There are plenty of things we can do other than talk."

"I'll pass."

When he looks up, the girl is gone, and he couldn't be more grateful. He needs time alone, to think about everything. Losing you makes him want to reassess everything in his life. Hunting was the one thing he was always good at, yet he wasn't good enough to keep you safe. So who's to say he'd be able to keep Sam safe? Or anybody else who happened to tag along?

He begins to cry. A grown man in public, sobbing his heart out into a whiskey glass. And he can't stop, because you aren't there to kiss the tears away.

***

Sorry! I just thought this was beautiful.