Supernatural Preferences, Imagines, and One-Shots

The Last Call (Dean)

  Dean knew from the beginning this hunt was gonna be harder than usual, but that didn't stop him from wanting to go and complete it. He didn't think he'd need Sam, the hunt was only supposed to be a simple demon raiding a town a few states over. Nothing the elder Winchester could't handle for himself.

  "See you after the hunt, cupcake." Dean tells you after packing all of his needed materials and giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead, his hand caressing your cheek soothingly.

  You give your wonderful boyfriend of 3 years a sad smile as you hug him tightly before backing away. "Call me when your finished, okay?" You tell him from the door way of the bunker as he walks to the impala.

  "Promise. Couldn't forget if i tried." Dean replied as he sends a smile your way.

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  Dean sighed to himself loudly as he sits alone in his motel room, sleeplessness consuming him as your not by his side. He takes a quick shower, drying his wet hair with a cheap towel before laying down again, this time falling asleep.

  The alarm shrieks at 5am, causing Dean to wake up with a groan. He had already learned everything he needed with the days hes already been away. Now he just had to take the bastard down.

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  Dean silently walks through the abandoned warehouse, Ruby Knife in hand as he looks in every nook and cranny for the black eyed waste of space.

  Eventually he comes across a room, a demon sitting in a chair comfortably and a man tied up into a separate chair, bloodied and bruised, but still breathing. Deans quick to hide himself on the other side of the doorway, out in the hall.

  'The demon must be waiting for him to wake up.' Dean thinks to himself as he watches the demon watch the man. Dean also assumed the man was James, the one who was kidnapped.

  Dean silently and cautiously crept forward, not a noise to alert anything suspicious coming from him nor the old wooden boards of the floor. As soon as he arrived behind the chair the demon was sitting in, he quickly reaches his arm out and stabs it in the chest, only a grunt being heard in protest.

  Dean unties James and tells him to go outside. As James leaves the warehouse Dean continues looking, just to be 100% sure everyone he could have saved is saved. However, he isn't as silent this time, knowing nothings there...

  Deans boots thump along the floor, the unstable wood bending under his feet as he walks, making a prominent creaking sound. As soon as Dean steps into what looks like another storage room, his body goes flying into a wall, causing him to grunt out in pain as his head makes contact with the metal walls.

  Though in pain, he's quick to get back up, blade ready as he looks around the room, seeing 3 silhouettes near the door of the room, obviously all of them demons.

  "Going somewhere?" One of them taunt, a smugness evident in its voice.

  Dean just smirks at the damned atrocity. "Well yeah, the bar is only down the street." He tells them, though his mind is on having you wrapped up in the warmth of his arms.

  Dean can't recall what happened next. Fists are punching him, something sharp is cutting at his skin, kicks are being thrown around.

  He fought, oh how he fought. He had to make it, to get back to you. To have you greet him with a homemade apple pie as and a kiss as soon as he walked through the bunker doors. So he fights back, throwing double at whatever is getting thrown at him. He eventually gets two demons down, only leaving the one who spoke alive and still fighting.

  "I don't have time for this." The demon growls, as he launches the knife from his hand into Deans side, where it lodges into his stomach region. It smirks to itself as it uses its ability to twist the blade, before pulling it out, leaving a gaping bloodied hole as it smirks and flees from battle.

  Dean is quick to fall to his knees, pain evident in his eyes as he coughs up blood, his memories with Sam, Bobby, Charlie, and all of his other friends flood through his mind as he falls on his back. Tears pool in his perfect emerald green eyes as he sniffles and closes his eyes. there was no way he could get out of this one.

  Cas had fled years ago for some unknown region, and as much as Dean hated to think, he's probably dead by now. Dean was to stupid to offer Sam to come along. But you.. Dear lord, you. Dean couldn't see straight, tears blur up his vision as they trail down his cheeks slowly begins to take over him. He made you a promise..

  With a shaky hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, quickly calling you from speed dial.

  "Dean!" You greet him almost instantly with a bright and cheery tone.

  "Hi cupcake!" Dean says, as pain envelopes his heart, but he fakes a cheery tone for your sake.

  "Are you coming home? Do I need to start the pie?" You say happily into the phone, a bright smile on your face. Dean can already picture it as his vision itself starts to darken, but he keeps his eyes open

  "Yeah, I'll be there soon." He coughs again, blood riling up his throat and onto the floor. 

  "Wait, are you okay?" You ask, worry evident in your voice.

  "I'm perfect, darling." Dean tells you as tears stream down his face seemingly endless. "You have that pie ready when I get back, okay?" Dean smiles to himself as he slowly allows his eyes to close..

  "Of course,my man." You joke with a smile causing a slight laugh/groan from Dean. "I love you, Dean." You say seriously, smiling to yourself as you hold the phone close to your ears.

  "I love you more," Deans voice cracks, "more than you'll ever know."

  "Bye, Dean." You say giggling as butterflies erupt in your stomach.

  "Goodbye, Y/N."

  Dean drops the phone onto the ground, its echo running throughout the whole building.

  "I'll always love you." He whispers to himself as a single tear drops down his chin and onto the floor. 

  As his chest ceases to move. His heart stops, blood still continuing to pour out his wound. You're the only thing on his mind, as finally his pain ceases, and his last breath is gone.

  Dean Winchester. The man not so full of broken promises.