Soothing Dean's Pain

Chapter One: Dean's Pain

*POV of Reader in First Person)

   I hated seeing him like that. It was as though the real Dean was gone. But then, I realized, the 'real Dean' was never actually real at all. It was a mask, it hid his true identity beneath it. His eyes were slightly drunken, not only from alcohol but from many hours of sleep deprivation as well.

   At this point, I couldn't really tell if he was crying. All that existed on his face was an eternal expression of sadness, despair, pain, and exhaustion. His fragile mask that he so often hid behind was shattering. I felt the need to pick up the pieces.

   I was small for my size; thin and delicate, but my personality rarely was so. I had cut off the heads of hundreds of vamps, exorcised tons of demons from their human hosts, and still- when it came to Dean- I was soft and vulnerable. After all, he deserved my affection and eternal gratitude didn't he? I would have been dead without him.

   He sat on the motel's small love seat, and I approached him. "Dean, please talk to me. I don't want for you to feel like this," I spoke. I was already on the verge of tears, and the conversation had hardly begun.

   For a second, I could see that he had been pulled from his depressed fog. His eyes looked up at me, the anguish was still there; yet, ever so faintly, I saw the dimmest spark of hope in his eyes. "No, no I'm fine... really," Dean coughed lightly and looked back down at his empty bottle of booze, as though he had expected it to be full again.

   "God dammit no you're not, Dean! You're not okay and honey, it's okay to not be okay. But you gotta let me in. I gotta help you and you have to let me," For a moment I was entirely taken back by my slight anger. The concern that he may have believed I was angry at him washed over me.

   He, too, was surprised, and stood up from the seat to meet me. Suddenly, I was intimated. He now towered over my petite frame unlike before, when he had been sitting. I felt powerless, as though this simplest of actions would be detrimental to the entire process of me helping to fix him.

   My fear faded quickly. He wrapped his large arms around my waist, pulling me as close as possible to him. I felt his heart thumping against the wall of my chest, and soon each of our hearts were beating at the same pace. He held me so so tightly. It took all I could to not lose my train of thought. With his head buried in my hair, I whispered, "I'm going to help you, okay I'm going to-" My voice cracked. The pain in my heart was indescribable. I lightly touched his jaw, and my hand guided his head back from my neck to look in my eyes, "I'm going to fix your broken parts, okay? Please let me," Tears fell from the corners of my eyes.

   Physically, he wasn't crying, but his inner pain was evident. "Okay, yeah." His voice was so deep, so gruff. He ran his fingertips down the small of my back, tracing all the delicate bones.

   I said no more. My gaze simply intensified on his, before I let out a quiet sob and he pulled our bodies closer once more. My concern for his safety had not been entirely relieved. What would I do without him in my life?...