Sacrifices (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Close To Me.

It was a very long, silent and awkward twelve hour drive. A few times Sam tried to initiate conversations with us, but neither of us were in the mood for it. I pulled out my favorite book. It was my only entertainment sometimes. The book itself was worn from so many reads. The paper cover was torn and falling off of the book. Every page had been dog eared at least once. I hadn't noticed the occasional glances Dean sent my way through the rear view mirror. After what seemed like an eternity of forced conversations, reading, and naps we found a motel for the night. We got out of the car and I looked around. Why were we here? I had stayed here many times before. My throat went dry as Sam handed me my bag from the back seat.

"Come on, Bobby had a job for us here," Sam said.

"Wonderful," I responded. He doesn't have a job for us you twit. He knew I wasn't going to come here otherwise, "how you feeling after the drive, Dean?"

"Like I could use a drink," he said shortly.

"There's a bar about a ten minute walk from here. Wanna grab a drink?"

"How do you know that?"

"Well, for starters, I grew up here."

"This is where you grew up?"

"Yup."

Sam had walked off to get a room for the night. We stood in our own awkward silence. Dean didn't even bother to look at me.

"Dean, I really don't like not knowing what I did, or didn't, do to upset you. Can we talk?" I spoke sheepishly.

"Which way is the bar?"

"That way," I pointed in the direction of the bar.

"Don't wait up."

"Dean," I hissed becoming more irritated by whatever he wasn't talking about.

"I'm not in the mood, ____, just go get ready for this job."

"It's not healthy to avoid this."

"Alright. You wanna know? You're the problem. I really can't even stand being near you right now."

Sticks and stones, they say. But some words rip right through your heart, your entire being. And shatter any emotional stability you have. This was one of those moments. I could feel my eyes burning. My lip quivered as I took a step away from him, clutching my bag tightly.

"Y-you're an awful person, Dean Winchester," I said trying to keep my emotions in line.

I ran past him bumping my shoulder into him as I ran toward the office to check in. He rubbed his forehead. Why, why, did he even say that? It wasn't at all what he meant to say. His head shook as he turned and walked to the bar. Sam looked at me as I ran into the office. My face twisted into a half controlled look. My eyes wanted to let the tears spill from my eyes. But I couldn't. I slammed cash on the counter.

"Is there a room next to his available?" I demanded.

"Yeah, there's one-" the clerk started.

"I will take it."

He handed me a form to fill out. Fake name, fake address. No real information about myself as I held my hand out waiting for the key. They handed the key and told me I would be in room 219. I stormed past Sam. He had finished checking in when I came in. But he could barely get a word in. I was a whirlwind of emotions and if I stopped to talk about it. Well, I'd lose any composure I had. Right outside the room Sam grabbed my arm and stopped me.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Your brother is a complete ass. I don't know what has his panties in a twist and I don't really care. But after this job it is probably best I go my own way," I cried, the tears suddenly falling from my eyes, "I'm sorry, Sam. This is just a really bad time for a petty fight."