Long Way to Nowhere (Dean Winchester x Child!Reader)

Chapter 11: Tensions Rise

Recap:

"Thanks, Dean," you breathed.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, though you could hear the slight amusement in his voice. "You know I'm gonna regret making this decision, right?"

You laughed lightly and nodded, saying, "Probably, but I'll try not to give you a reason to regret it."

Present:

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

You lowered your gun and stared at the target before you.  Multiple bullet holes covered the target, most in the center.  You turned to your father with an expectant look, eager to see his reaction.

He gazed at the target for a moment before slowly nodding in approval.  "You're doing good, kiddo," he commented as he ruffled your hair.  You made a sound of protest as you attempted to fix your hair.  "You just need to improve your form a bit and try to get a nice group of shots into the target."

Your brows furrowed as you swiveled back to the target.  You shrugged and replied, "Well, I thought I did pretty good."  Turning back to Dean, you asked with hopeful eyes, "How about we break for dinner?"

Dean shook his head and began to grab more bullets and load them into your pistol before holding it out for you to grab.  "You need to practice some more."  When you didn't take your gun, Dean shook it slightly and added, "C'mon, let's go."

"Dean," you whined as you crossed your arms.  "Don't you think we practiced enough today?  I mean, Sam taught me the exorcism, Bobby taught me how to draw a devil's trap, and Cas even gave me my own angel blade!"

"Yeah, but you still don't know how to wield a gun!" Dean argued.

Narrowing your eyes, you snagged the gun from his hand as you said, "Like hell I don't!"

"Watch your attitude, young lady," your father growled, his eyes narrowing as well as he began to tower over you, trying to intimidate you.

You huffed and rolled your eyes in annoyance, mumbling, "Gosh, you don't have to be so bitchy about it..."

"That's it!" Dean exclaimed as he roughly yanked the gun from your hands.  "Go to your room!  You're grounded!"

"But–"

"I said go to your room, (y/n) Winchester," Dean demanded, venom in his tone as he pointed to Bobby's house.

You glared at him for a moment longer before letting out a frustrated yell. Stomping your way into the house, you marched right past the kitchen. Bobby tried to ask you what was wrong, but you had cut him off as you replied, "Why don't you ask Dean.  He's the one being a jerk!"

You ran up the stairs and rushed to your room, slamming the door shut so that everyone in the house could know of your foul mood. You paced back and forth in your room for a moment, breathing heavily as you tried not to scream. You grabbed the closest object next to you—a book you had recently been reading—and threw it against the wall in a blind fit of rage.

Some of your anger gone, you plopped down onto your bed and held your head in your hands. Your jaw was clenched tightly as tears of aggravation blurred your vision.

You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding and looked up. Running your fingers through your hair, you stood and slowly trudged out of your room.

You were about to walk down the stairs to get some water from the kitchen when you heard an ongoing conversation coming from your destination.

"What did you do this time, ya idjit," you heard Bobby inquire.

You heard Dean huff before he replied, "(Y/n) needed to improve her shooting skills but was refusing."

"So you sent her to her room?" Sam questioned, confusion and slight annoyance in his tone.

"She was sassing me!" Dean argued, anger in his voice again.

"That does not seem like an adequate reason to send her to her room," Castiel stated calmly.

"Besides, it's been a long day, and she needs to rest," Bobby added.  "Why don't you bring her down here so she can eat?" he suggested, and you could picture him crossing his arms and glaring at Dean.

Your father sighed, and you could barely hear him mumbling, "I'm just disappointed in her..."

Your eyebrows furrowing in agitation, you finally rushed down the stairs and revealed yourself.  You gave Dean the best glare you could muster and pointed to yourself as you inquired, "Oh so I'm the disappointment?!"

Dean, surprised, widened his eyes and was speechless for a second.  Momentarily forgetting everyone else in the room except for you, he snapped out of his stupor and replied with an irritated voice, "Yeah!"

"Well I'm not the one who left mom when she needed me the most!"

Shocked and hurt by your answer, Dean's gaze softened and his shoulders slumped.  He blinked a few times, instantly regretting what he had said about you earlier.  He swallowed before beginning to speak in a soft tone, "(Y/n)... Listen, I–"

"Just stay away from me," you murmured, tears in your eyes.  One managed to slip down your cheek as you croaked, "I hate you."

With that, you turned and rushed back up the stairs, leaving a stunned Dean behind.  You fled to your room and slammed the door behind you again.  You lied down on your bed with your back to the door and clutched a pillow to your chest, refusing to let any more tears fall.

You didn't know how long you were like that, but soon there was a knock on your door before it slowly creaked open.  You sniffed and mumbled, "Go away, Dean..."

"It's Sam," your uncle replied.  You didn't say anything as you curled your body around your pillow so that you were in a tight ball, hiding the side of your face in the soft object.  Sam's footsteps came closer to you as he added, "I brought you some food.  It's (f/f)..."

When you didn't make a move to sit up and eat, Sam frowned and gently set the plate and utensils down on your desk.  He turned back to you and shuffled over to the side of your bed, sitting down at the edge.

"(Y/n)?  You okay?" he asked in worry.

Your throat clenched painfully as you sat up and averted your eyes, instead burying your face into his chest as you wrapped your arms around him.  Sam's immediate response was to encase you in his arms and stroke your hair.

"He called me a disappointment..." you whimpered as you shut your eyes tightly.

Sam sighed and rested his chin on top of your head as he answered softly, "He wasn't thinking when he said that.  He didn't mean it; he was just worked up."

You said nothing more and just listened to Sam's reassuring words, his chest rumbling when he spoke.

You had shifted in Sam's arms and glanced at your door.  You were surprised to see Dean there, his arms crossed over his chest as he lent against the door and watched with a sad expression.  You frowned and turned your head away before you heard his soft footsteps walk away.

Would your dad ever forgive you?

More importantly...would you ever forgive your dad?