Supernatural Oneshots

Bathe In The Blood *Extended Ending*

Previously on Supernatural...

"Come on, (Y/n). You need to get your ass up and you gotta keep those beautiful (e/c) eyes open" Dean pleaded, lifting (y/n) off the ground, while blood started to drip down his arms.

" I don't understand the blind faith you put in the man, even after what happened!" Sam growls, walking away from the Impala, the fog billowing in around him.

"I will leave your ass!" Dean bellowed after him, but Sam continued walking.

"Where you headed?" Sam asks Meg, the sly blond smirking at the man.

"No way in Hell, I'm telling you!" She scoffed, " You could be some kind of freak!"

Dean lifts a silver necklace from his pocket, placing the delicate thing over his review mirror, his chest tightening with sorrow. Sam climbed in the passenger seat, watching Dean handle the last thing that had to remind themselves of failing (y/n).

"When I see Dad again, I'm gonna kick his ass!" Sam barked, punching a hole in the plaster motel wall.

"Fear the Reapers." A little boy says, handing Dean a photograph, "She wasn't seeing things."

"Dean. It's okay to cry." (Y/n) smiles weakly, her eyes slowly shutting.

"(Y/N)!!" Dean voice calls out into the darkness, his voice echoing off unknown surfaces.

Supernatural

"Dad?" Dean calls out, his Father sitting on the empty motel bed.

"Hey Dean." He replies, running a hand through his short hair.

"Dad?" Sam echoed, peering past Dean to see his Father.

"Hey, Sammy." He says, peering aeound Sam to find (y/n).

Dean trots over to John, his face quickly twisting into anger. He smashed a fist into his Father's face, wiping  smirk right off it. The blow caused John to fall off the bed, holding his nose while blood gushed out of it.

"Dean! What the fuck!" Sam called, gripping his arm.

Yanking his arm out of his grasp, Dean pulled John up to his feet, before grabbing his head and connecting his face to his knee.

John gripped Dean's jacket, flinging his son across the room, blood spewing from his shattered nose. Dean cursed, his head making a dent in the wall, before he charged at John, hitting him in the stomach to throw him against the wall behind him, shattering the lamp and nightstand between the two beds.

Sam tried to intervene, but once John got Dean into a headlock, it was all over. Sighing, Sam sat on the bed, resting his head in his hands. He whipped his head up to the sound of another crash, somehow Dean had escaped the head lock, and proceded to push John into the television.

"Enough!" John bellowed, pulling out a gun.

Cocking the hammer, he aimed it at Dean, who still advanced toward him, so he trained it on Sam. That made Dean stop in his tracks, eyes widened as Sam's face went white with horror.

"What in the fucking world is going on!" John barked, blood trickling down his purple face.

"You know fucking what!" Dean bellowed at him, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Enlighten me then. " John seethed, growling at Dean.

"You honestly don't know?" Sam asked, his face still pale.

"No idea. Will someone care to explain!" He screamed, waving the gun around.

"We called you over and over. We sent you dozens of texts, but you never answered one of them." Sam said, staring at his Father.

"So, you got butt hurt that I didn't reply to your measly texts?" He sneered, lip curling over his teeth.

"We called you, because (y/n) was murdered." Sam gasped, Dean's face falling once more.

John looked between Sam and Dean, his expression blank. They were joking, right? Why would Dean attack you if it was a joke then?

"How long?" He whispered, afraid of the answer.

"Almost a year." Dean growled.

A year. A year of him being too drunk and a selfish bastard to pick up the phone to ask how they were doing. A year he had lived on this Earth, not knowing his little Princess had died. A year passing from the day they burned her body. A year of him failing on what he had sworn to Mary; he would protect their children.

The heavy gun slipped off his hand, clattering to the floor as he followed it's decent to the ground. On his hands and knees, his tears flowed from his face, showing of the loss he never knew.

"I'm a terrible Father. Mary, I'm sorry I failed you. I couldn't keep our children safe. Please, forgive me. I thought training them to not be afraid of the dark would have saved her in the end, but it only brought her death closer." He wailed, hitting his bloody fists on the stained carpet.

Nothing could replace what he had lost, but he shouldn't have left you in the first place.

How was it? Good, meh, terrible?

I hoped you enjoyed this extended ending of Bathe In The Blood. I think John's beating by Dean was long overdue. I hope I did it some justice.

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Keep reading, lovelies!

~LunaMarieWolf