Cheer Up ✔️

Back To Sleep

You woke up with a scream, panting just like you had run across the United States and back in record timing. As your eyes flashed open, taking in the dimly lit - full moon at that moment - bedroom you were situated in the middle of, you felt for the form of Dean Winchester beside you beneath the covers.

When your hand felt nothing but cold sheets beneath the palm, you remembered: he was on a hunt. Out.

As the howl of a wolf nearby from the concrete streets got to your ears closely followed by the lone shot of a gun, you let the lids of your tired eyes sag closed again. Yourself and Dean had gone off to Minneapolis to hunt an extremely rouge werewolf and by the sounds of what was going on in the backstreets below the rented motel room, the hunt was going well.

But you couldn't go back to sleep again.

That was the thing, these days. Since God had come to yours and Dean's house and told you all that made the nightmare rendered moot to become what happened in reality, you'd get flashbacks of what had happened in the 'dream'. Dean going to hell. A soulless Sam. The feeling of -

You let out a tremor by accident and with that, a small squeak of terror. It was when you were left alone you tendered to the wounds that were internal. The doctors you'd been too - at the urging of your closest hunting friends and Dean - had deduced you down to be jumpy and 'in dire need for medication', to quote what the doctors had said.

Even though he wasn't there with you, you crawled to his dimly warm side of the sheets and sunk your head into his pillow, aching for his scent to make you numb enough to rest once more.

You must have gone back to sleep because when you heard the room door slam shut behind the intruder, you sat straight up about to scream bloody murder if it wasn't for you noticing who it was.

"Dean...?" you murmured.

"Heyyy, hey, ______, it was just me closing the door, its okay, I promise," Dean's voice came from the foot of the bed. "You can go back to sleep."

"Did - did you get the wolf?" You yawned, slowly sinking back into the uncomfortable motel bed.

In the light of the moon, your eyes focused on the form of your boyfriend the Hunter as he rid himself of the bloodstained and ripped clothes he was in, substituting the jeans and T-shirt for boxers. "Yep, I got her."

"I think I heard it," you whispered back tiredly. "You need a new silencer. I think...the whole of Minneapolis heard."

Dean grunted in agreement.

Turning in the bed toward your now cooler side, you suddenly felt the bed dip under Dean's added weight and a pair of hands encircling your waist. Involuntary, you felt yourself shiver as a part of the aftermath of the nightmare.

"Still getting those bad dreams?" you heard him murmur into your neck as you snuggled.

"Yeah," you spoke in a hushed tone sleepily. "It's a pity I can't hunt with you though. I miss it all."

Dean huffed into your hair in an unamused laugh. "When you get your feet back on the ground and stop getting the nightmares, you're cleared to hunt, ______."

You turned to face Dean, and searching his apple green eyes for a second, snuggled your head into his neck.

"I'll hold you to that, Winchester," you whispered back, and felt yourself seeping back to sleep. "Good night."

But he stirred beside you, almost refusing to get some shut-eye and whispered loudly, "How about when we wait for you to cool off the bad dreams, we go to ground? Like ordinary Joes."

Blearily you opened an eye and taking a deep breath, you asked, "You wouldn't be able to hunt in the meanwhile, though." You yawned once more, "Unless you did cross-country cases...we could play house."

You didn't see Dean's smile, you felt it.

"Always wanted to do that," he spoke up.

"Then it's settled. In the morning, pick a town, and we'll hang there until my dreams blow over. Act all ordinary and...stuff." You buried your head into his neck and took a sleepily deep breath. "'Night, Dean."

"Night, _______."