Supernatural Imagines

He loved her

Her eyes are blue, her smile is white, and her blood is crimson. The latter is what Dean remembers vividly -- feeling Y/N's blood soaking his palms, dripping down his fingertips onto her cheek. Her ghost haunts his dreams, her screams echoing around in his head.

He killed her. The love of his life. Gone in a cloud of gray, like she had never been there in the first place. The last time he had actually seen her, she was smiling at him. He noted on that sunny day how he didn't think she would ever be happier. He knew he wouldn't be happy without her by his side.

Once his eyes turned black, the real Dean left. He was swarmed by the darkness, never able to fully recover. She knew it right away. His shoulders were hunched, his head hanging low as he plotted quietly. Of course, the black eyed man tried to pretend to love her, tried to carry on like Dean normally would, but he couldn't control himself. She outed him and ruined his plan. For that she had to pay with her life.

Dean plunged his fist right into his lover's chest and ripped out her heart. It was short, almost painless, but Dean remembers her wide, headlight eyes, her quivering lip, her last gasp of breath. Time seemed to stand still as she fell to the floor, blood spilling out of her chest like a glass of spilt wine. She twitched and shook as her body tried to keep living, but it's attempts were in vain. She was gone.

The real Dean wishes he could have seen what he was doing to her, wishes he could have stopped himself. But Demon Dean came and stole her away, his prized possession. The only remaining piece of her being the dried blood crusted under his fingernails and the crack in his chest from the blow of her loss.

At the sight of her bloody body on the concrete, something in Dean snapped. He took back his control, pushing the demon out of his body through his own will. The internal battle was hard, but with the rage Dean felt, he pummeled his demon.

Sam had to pull him back, keeping him for lunging out for her as he saw her broken corpse. It didn't matter anyways. She was long dead by the time Dean had broken his curse. The grassroots were practically reaching up to pull her under. Dean let out a scream of agony. She was gone. He spent the rest of the night in a drunken, sorrowful slumber, hoping to wake up with her by his side the next morning.

Her tombstone reads, "a friend," something she'd requested. That is all Y/N could be described as. She lived a simple life, content with her friends and her enemies and not giving a damn what anyone else thought. To everyone else, that's what she was, but to Dean she meant so much more.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, not able to look at her grave. Dean hopes that somewhere beyond she will hear his voice, but knows that nothing he can say will fix the damage done. "I love you so much and I'm sorry."

So as the soil slips out of his fingers and onto the small pile south of the marble stone, Dean holds back a whimper. This is all his fault and he knows it. He put her in that box and sealed it shut, damning her to a million lifetimes in hell. Out of all his murders, all his mistakes, this one takes the cake -- he put out her fire with a bucket of ice water and laughed as smoke filled the sky.

Sam grunts before he speaks, clad in a black suit and matching his brother. "You were a hurricane, a thunderstorm, a tornado," he lets out a dry laugh, "but you were one of us. Nothing can change that. Goodnight, Y/N."

Tears spring from Dean's eyes like an open flood gate. He looks down at the ground, unable to conceal himself any longer. The salt burns and his eyes puff up, but he cannot stop. Each tear is a shard of his soul, melted down and streaming down his cheek like molten steel.

The wind rustles the leaves and they flutter down slowly, but surely. Just like the autumn leaves, Dean falls to his knees, wordless and mourning and stomach full of heart.

But just as the changing seasons, Dean will move on. He will go numb to the pain, locking himself away in his own mind. He will forget her face, her touch, her hot breath on his neck. All that will remain is the feeling of wrenching out her heart. And even that will fade too. But until his dying moment, Dean will remember that he loved her.

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