Supernatural Imagines

Don't You Love Me? Pt.2 << BalthazarxReader

The reader goes rouge sorta after loosing her one love, but will she find another?
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        I woke up feeling numb and broken. Cold from my head to my toes. Grief stricken. Heart broken.

         I opened my eyes slowly. My vision was blurry, but I could make out the shape of a person. I groaned and reached out, pushing a stubbly face. I soon realized that the stubbly face was belonging to no other than Dean Winchester.

      "D-Dean?"

       "Yeah sweet-heart. I'm here. You okay?"

       "I-I. I don't. I don't know. I don't think so." My vision un-blurred and I started shivering horribly.

        "Hey sweet-heart. I'm going to go grab you some blankets. Hang in there."

      "O-Okay D-Dean." I layed in the bed under the thin sheets, shivering. My mind raced through the events of the past few weeks. Soon enough, I was laying there crying. Softly whimpering. Dean ran in with a handful of blankets. His eyes went wide and he ran strait over to me.

       "Hey, hey, hey. Hey don't cry. Hey I got you. I got you." He wrapped me in the blanket and started hugging me, rubbing my back and squeezing me as tight as he could without hurting me.

        "Hey I know Sammy was a jerk. Hell, I would have kicked his ass two ways from Sunday. I know you loved him. Maybe you still do and maybe one day you two can do what you two used to do before the bitch came into play. He was a jerk to you and I can't even begin to imagine how you feel right now, but I know it don't feel to good. I'm going to give him hell for you while you get better. You know I love you and I would do anything for you. I'm going to make sure that Sammy knows how he made you feel." My tears were dry, but I was still shivering slightly and whimpering quietly.

         "T-Thanks Dean. I love you to." Dean was like my father and my brother at the same time. He always took care of me. Made sure I ate, slept, and stayed healthy. He cared so much for me it almost got disturbing, but it was just an almost.

       "I'm going to let you sleep baby-girl." He kissed my forehead and left the room, no doubt turning up the thermostat. I soon fell asleep, comforted by the warmth of the room and blankets.

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        I woke up about two hours later completely warm and, and broken. I wasn't sad. I wasn't angry. I wasn't confused or satisfied. I was, I was emotionless. Completely, udderly indifferent. I sat up and pushed the blankets from my body. I got up. I walked out of the room. I packed some things. I grabbed my keys. I started my bike, and I left. I just left. No emotional attachment whatsoever. I was so broken. I fried.

          I flew down the road at high speed. The wind flapping through my hair. The snow whipping about all around me. But I didn't care. I just couldn't care. It was like my soul had been ripped from my body over night. It was like I was a hollow shell, drifting in the wind. Floating along like a leaf that has fallen from a tree. Or a single snowflake hopping along in the cold, icy winter breeze.

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       It had been about 3 years since I had seen the boys. 3 years since I had been hollowed out.

         My time gone had been. Experimental. I was a ruthless killer. I saw a monster. I stabbed it 37 times in the chest. Somebody cut me in the line. Cold cut to the face. Somebody accidentally stepped on the heel of my shoe. I stopped on their foots. I was, as Dean would probably call me, a bitch. I didn't care though. I didn't care at all.