When Reality Starts to Falter (SPN AU FANFIC) Finished!

Part Eleven

With the intention of suppressing the tears that climb up the back of your throat, your eyes seat on Dean's neck, watching the lump move with his words but letting them bounce off of your ears and fall to the ground. Yet, as if they are knives, the words cut through your shield like it isn't there at all, "please talk to me," he mutters, shaking his head.

His hands rest between his knees as he sits leaning against the concrete wall in a dark alley. With merely a racking grumble from you, he stands to get closer, "Bell, come on. You know I'm not one to get on my knees and - and start begging, but damn it -" the words drain from him with no restrictions, bypassing all of his internal warnings and silencing every alarm on their way out - "you gotta let me in. You have to let me help you," he weightily hums, slowly bringing a hand to your arm.

Rejecting him by way of turning around, the tears finally break through in silence, "no, Dean," you croak, bowing your head. "I'm sorry, I... can't."

Gripping onto your arms, he twists you around to face him, bringing your attention to his drooping face. "Why?" His words are more strict now, but lacking the confidence he had before, like he's fighting with himself behind the scenes.

"It's - it's too much," you belt out, looking up at him with unblinking eyes.

His face cramps, "what?" The breath he lets out stokes the fire in his chest. Letting go of your arms he turns around, careful not to burn you with his words, "Crowley got to you, didn't he? That son of a -"

"No! Dean," you say, shaking your head, but replaying Crowley's vicious threats in your mind. "I just don't know how much longer I can keep up with this," you stutter, eyes shifting down to the static, grey concrete, "the visions, the circus, Crowley, the Djinn..."

As he flips around, your eyes meet with his and the words roll off of your tongue without permission, "lying to you, keeping secrets." As soon as it was said, you wanted to take it back.

You know how he hides behind impassivity, but the story is as old as time. Written all over his face is a blend of confusion and heartache that ferment inside of him. "Secrets?" he says, voice calmer than anything said prior.

"I - I," you sputter out, not quite sure what to offer given that the words were never meant to surface - not yet. Filling with a roaring heat, despite the brisk wind that rolls through, your cheeks brighten and flush.

"Bell," Dean urges. As you cringe away from the name, he takes small steps towards you. Head tilting to the side as his lips fold down, his eyes lose whatever spark they had left. With a single sentence, you had distinguished the fire that was smoldering in him, replacing it with an icy stupor. "Lying about what?"

You throw your night chilled hands onto your face in an attempt to abate the emotional fever that grows over your body. You're unsure of how long they were there before he pulls your arms down to your sides.

Holding your wrists firmly, he almost forces you to keep eye contact with the way his cheeks and eyes swell, "what aren't you telling me? Are you saying that - that this-" lifting a hand, his finger wags between the two of you.

With your free hand, you grip onto his and bring it to your chest, "no, listen," you say, sighing through the words. Closing your eyes, you concede, "I'm just... not who you think I am."

"What?" A bitterness flows through his words that don't feel entirely placed on you, and you know as well as anyone that no matter what is done to him, Dean will always take partial, if not all, blame.

You shake your head, opening your eyes to face the blazing that returns to his, "and you're not either. I will explain everything to you. Please - please, you have to trust that I did this, all of it, for the right reasons," you gasp, clutching onto his shirt as if it's the rope keeping you from falling down the face of a mountain. Relaxing into a deep breath, you release your grip, "please tell me you trust me."