Supernatural X Reader

Dean x Reader

The Goodest of Goods

Warnings: None. Just sad fluff

Summary: Dean is having a bad night but luckily (Y/N) is there to comfort him.

It was the cold that finally woke you. Not the faint crying from the edge of the room. Not the neon glow from the sign through the cheap curtains. The coldness of the empty bed beside you when you reached out made you know something was wrong instantly. He wasn't there. He was supposed to be there.

You groggily opened your eyes to gaze at the dull red alarm clock beside the bed. It was the middle of the night and you knew from the coldness of the mattress that he'd been out of bed for a while, too long to simply be gone to the bathroom. You sat up suddenly.

The room was pretty dim. The door to the main hallway was closed and Dean's jacket still hung on the doorknob, indicating he hadn't left anywhere. He might have gone to Sam's motel room with something but that didn't seem likely at this hour. And hardly, you finally notices his jeans on the floor, in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt.

That's when you finally noticed the soft choking sobs from the other side of the room and your sleep addled brain put two and two together. This wasn't the first time this had happened.

You silently slipped the covers from your bare legs and stood, turning to face the huddled silhouette on the edge of the spare motel bed near the window. His back was turned to you and his shoulders shook violently. He stifled his cries with his arms, afraid of waking you. He mustn't have heard you move.

"Dean? What are you doing awake at 4 A.M?"

He turned, startled at your sudden appearance and in the faint light through the motel window , you could see the wetness on his face. He'd been crying.

He glanced at you quickly and grunted, quickly rubbing at his eyes as if you hadn't already noticed. He always tried to push his own feelings aside like that. Too scared of being vulnerable.

You could understand that part of him. Every weakness he'd ever shown had been used against him at some point in his life. It was the terrible burden of being who he was. The Winchesters would never know safety or peace. And as long as you stayed with him, neither would you but it was a life you gladly accepted. You had no family left to speak for, all of them either dead or else gone from your life to keep them from being dead too, but now you had a new family. Sam and Castiel were like brothers to you. Bobby had been a weird but lovely uncle. Kevin and Charlie would rope you into a game of Dungeons and Dragons when they visited. And then there was Dean...

You moved to the spare bed in bare feet and sat on the floor beside the man, leaning back against the mattress. He didn't acknowledge you for a minute, too embarrassed, not trusting his own voice to stay steady when he spoke. He stifled a sniffle and stared ahead of him at nothing. You sat there shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you'd ever heard it.

"Is this the part where you tell me to be strong? Because I'm trying, babe. I'm.. I just don't know how to keep that up all the time. Something's always happening. When do things stop happening?"

He looked up at you with bleary, tired eyes, the glossy green making your heart ache at his pain. The remnants of a broken little boy remained in his gaze.

Years and years of cruel circumstance had taken every ounce of hope from him. He never asked for any of this. He never deserved any of it. Your hand was in his before you even realised he reached out, his calloused palm warm against your own. You could feel the shaking in his fingers but he ran them along your hand, stroking circles into them with an unusual gentleness that months ago, you would never have thought a person like Dean could still muster.