supernatural one-shots

Can't remember the author

You crawled through the puddles of blood on the metallic floor pulling yourself along with your arms. The thick, stringy blood clung tightly to your skin coating your entire figure, making your entire body even stiffer. The stench was dreadful, covering you in the smell of metal and death. Your body tired, unable to pull you along the floor any longer, exhausted from fighting the pain from multiple cuts and stab wounds and fighting of the fatigue that came with your extreme blood loss. You collapsed in a heap on the floor looking up at the bodies around you. At this point you couldn't tell whose blood you were lying in, some was your own, some was of the dozen or so other people hanging from the roof above you.
They looked like cattle strung up from the ceiling, some by their necks, by their arms, by their legs. Some of them barely looked human now, torn apart by the harsh blade of a knife, the energy drained out of them by cruel torture, and wasted away with decay from being left alone in the warehouse to rot. These people had died in a way that you couldn't have thought up and wished upon your worst enemy. They died not from knife wounds to vital areas, but from extreme blood loss. Prolonged torture from the knives that slashed down their arms, legs, and torso, with precise cuts making their way down their faces. At least the ones that were recognizable.
And this, was the same monster that had slaughtered your family.
Suddenly you were no longer back in that dreadful warehouse, no longer covered in the stench of congealed blood, surrounded by corpses who did nothing but reminded you of the terrible fate brought down upon your family. You were in the bunker, safe, but you never felt safe.
Even as Sam approached you cautiously, slow enough for you to realize that he was there, you were still trapped in your own memories. You saw Sam, but you didn't see him. What you did see was your family being trapped and tortured, tormented in a way you could never have imagined. As Sam gently lowered himself onto the bed next to you, you didn't turn towards him, you stared directly ahead to the blank white wall in front of you imagining the pain your family must have been in.
Why you? Why were you spared? Why were you the one that the Winchester's had saved? You were probably the most undeserving of their pity. Why hadn't they saved your baby sister? She was only 12. She was never supposed to know pain or hurt or evil. You were supposed to keep her from the maliciousness of the world. But you failed. And for some reason you were saved, not her. She died bloody, not you.
Sam's hand slowly inched towards yours, running the pads of his fingers over your knuckles comfortingly. He gently grabbed your hand in his, squeezing, warming your freezing hand.
"Hey Y/N, sweetie. You didn't eat a lot today, do you want me to get you something?" Sam had been the one to feed you today, carefully spooning soup into your mouth. You hadn't moved for a week and a half since they had brought you home from the hunt. Sam sighed when you continued looking straight ahead. He wasn't expecting an answer.
"Today was ok. I researched a new case we've been looking at. It's something small, just a little ghost. One of us will stay here with you if you're not ready. We're not going to leave you alone."
His voice was accompanied by the screams you had imagined for your family. You could barely remember their voices but their agonizing screams were as vivid in your head as ever. Before that night you had never known the truth about what had happened to your family. Dean and Sam kept you as far away from the warehouse as possible, and the second they had a moment, they whisked you away from your hometown to the bunker, never letting you see the true carnage. They told you what happened sure, but they never said that it was like this.
"Dean worked on the Impala today." Sam's eyes flashed with sadness at the mention of Dean, but he pushed on. He didn't know why. They weren't even sure if you could hear them. They had no reason to believe you could, you hadn't reacted to anything or said a word in a week and a half. "He's worried about you, you know? You know how he is, he thinks it's all his fault. He thinks he should've protected you better."
Talk of Dean brought you out of your visions. The sight of him broken and hurt, with pain in his eyes broke your heart all over again. You wanted to be strong for him, put yourself back together for him, but you couldn't. God knows you wanted to.
"I want you back too. I want my amazing Y/N. You're like family, you're my little sister." His voice cracked, showing the pain he had held in for so long. "But, I know this is going to take time. We'll wait. We just want you to be ok."
"Sammy." Dean called from the doorway. Sam's head shot up, not realizing that he was there, or how long that he had been there. Sam released your hand, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, walking towards the doorway. No words were exchanged as Dean gathered Sam in a hug, as Sam brushed away a stray tear that escaped from his eyes.
Dean moved towards you when Sam walked out of the room, silently closing the door behind him.
"Hi sweetheart." He announced himself before getting too close to you, not wanting to get close before you were ready. He sat down beside you, rubbing his hand down your back soothingly. "It's almost time for bed. Quick bath then we can all go to sleep. That ok?"
Your sister's face appeared before you, contorted dementedly. Her once bright, young eyes were suddenly slow and grey, glazed over with a look of pain. Her hair was no longer shiny and youthful, but dull. Her entire body looked frail and lifeless, hanging on to life by a thread. You reached out to here, trying to bring her close to you, to get a chance to feel her skin on yours once more. No sooner did you reach out to her did she let out a horrendous cry. Her mouth opened wider than seemed humanly possible, the sound coming out of her was in no way human. She sounded like a monster not your little sister. You could feel yourself running desperately, eager for escape.
Yet here you sat in the real world, frozen as ever. Your face showing no change, your body showing no movement. And you couldn't help but think that you had done this to her. If she was a monster it was only because you let her. You let her down.
You felt Dean sigh before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body. One arm went under your legs, the other wrapped around your back, supporting you and pulling you into his chest. Dean stood as you lolled your head against his shoulder, carrying you to the bathroom.
His footsteps sounded carefully on the linoleum floor walking towards the toilet and setting you down gently on the toilet seat. He let you sit there, deadpanning the wall, while he pulling the shower curtain back and turned on the water testing the temperature.
You tried to focus on his movements, you did. You pulled yourself away from your thoughts while he carried you, but the second his arms left his body you found yourself dragged back. Back to the question you had thought about for years, especially for the past week, and that you had thought about while Sam was in the room, but pushed out of your mind; Why? You're entire family had so much more to live for. Your dad had just gotten a promotion at work, your little sister had just gotten the lead role in her school play, your mom was thinking about having another baby. Everyone was so excited, and happy. And what were you doing with your life? You were barely 22, just dropped out of college and had moved back home.
Dean moved back towards you, his fingers gently reaching underneath the hemline of your sweater and carefully pulling it over your head. He moved his hand down to the waistline, slipping your pajama pants down your legs and discarding them on the floor. Dean was careful not to let his eyes wander on your body for long. You were gorgeous, there was no denying that, especially not to Dean, but you were in a fragile state, and he was not going to take advantage of you. His eyes never looked at you lustfully, instead focusing simply on taking care of you and making you comfortable.
You were nothing. You had no plans, no future, no life. And yet Sam and Dean took you, they saved you. They cherished you as if you were family, took absolute care of you. Dean always made sure that you were ok, comforting you, and distracting you whenever you needed it. They gave you everything, and you didn't deserve any of it. No matter what you did you always let down everyone. You let down your entire family, you let them be tortured and murdered, and you let them die bloody. And now five other families had been destroyed on your watch, torn apart and ruined because of you.
Dean unhooked your bra, slipping it down your arms. He hooked his fingers into the waistline of your underwear pulling them down your legs, and slipping you out of them. He didn't give your chest or legs a second glance, using all the self-control her could muster. He wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you into his body, and walking you over to the bath. Dean kneeled down next to the bath, testing the water once more before gently lowering you into the water. You rested your back against the porcelain edge, surrendering yourself to Dean's care.
There was no person that you trusted more than Dean. Dean was the one to drag you out of the warehouse, kicking and screaming, begging for him to let you go, let you try and help those people and were way too beyond repair. He laid you in the backseat of the Impala, throwing the keys at Sam, and held you in his arms on the ride back to the bunker, completely ruining his clothes, getting them covered in blood. That was the first night you had retreated into your mind. It was the first night Dean had seen you naked, he had always imagined it of course, but not like that. He wanted for you to want it, for you to choose it. But he took care of you, he did anything in your power to make you comfortable.
You didn't deserve him. You didn't deserve the care that he gave to you unconditionally. It should have been for someone else. Some who had a reason to live. You would have given anything for to have been you. It should have been you. Your mother and your father and your sister should all still be alive. It should have been you.
Dean rubbed down your arms with the cloth, as if he was trying to gently wash away all of you awful memories. You whined, the first sound you had made in a week and a half.
"I want to die." Your words were barely audible, not saying them to Dean, but saying them for yourself.
Dean's hands stopped cold, freezing on your arm. His hands shook as in place as he eyes widened in fear.
"What did you just say?"
"I- I want to die." You shook your head as you spoke, trying to push all the thoughts out of your mind. "I should die. I don't deserve this."
You gazed down at your lap, Dean staring at you incredulously. You weren't sure how long he stared before he tore his gaze away from you and hurriedly ripped his shirt over his head. Damning his jeans he slid in the bath behind you, water soaking his clothes.
He placed his legs on either side of your body, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you to his chest, holding you close to him. His strong arms held onto you as if he expected you to disappear from under them. You greatly accepted his comfort, melting into his chest, practically oblivious to the fact that you were naked, pressed against his body between his legs, while he was only partially clothed.
The sparks that come from your skin contact was nothing sexual to either of you. It was simply the comfort of knowing that the other was there. They were living and breathing and you were together. The silence was only broken by the sound of your sobs quaking through your body. You would've doubled over in the bath had it not been for Dean holding you upright, providing the only comfort you had.
One hand held you to his chest, the other was on your face, trying to wipe away your tears. His head ducked down to your neck, peppering sweet kisses on your neck, slowly moving up to your jaw, you ignored the few tears that were running down your neck. Dean had begun to cry too, torn apart at the thought of you wanting to end your own life. Dean turned you around, just enough for you to face him and he begins scattering his kisses over your face, kissing away the tears streaming down your cheeks. The two of you relaxed there for what seemed like hours, resting your head on his shoulders as he kept you close, his arms never leaving your body.
You looked up at him, Dean pulling away from your body and lifting himself out of the bath. He pulled off his soaked jeans leaving him in only his boxers. You whined, pleading at him with your eyes.
"Shhh. It's ok." He leaned down to you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you into his chest, lifting you up out of the bath. For once you finally reacted to his movements, draping your arms around his neck as he raised up. You let go off him as he placed you down on the toilet seat and grabbed the towel off of the shower curtain rod. He wrapped you up in the towel, covering your body, and rubbing you gently to dry you off. You held the towel to yourself, Dean grabbing himself another towel and drying himself off.
Dean disappeared for a moment, returning wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and holding your pajama pants, a pair of your underwear, and one of his shirts. You help him pull your underwear and pants up your legs, and reached your arms above your head as he pulled the shirt over your head. You wrapped your arms around yourself, enveloping yourself in the comfort of his t-shirt, the smell of his cologne soothing you.
Dean picked you up once more, carrying you out of the bathroom and into your room, lying you gently on your bed. He pulled back the sheets, allowing you to quickly shuffle under. He turned off the ceiling light, flicking on the lap next to your bed. You grabbed his wrist as he turned around, causing you to face him.
"Are- Are you going to stay with me?" You hated how pathetic your voice sounded, and you hated to admit, even to yourself, that you needed him next to you if there was going to be any chance of you getting any sleep tonight.
"If that's what you want sweetheart." He ran his hand gently down your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes.
Dean pulled his hand away, walking around to the other side of the bed, and slipping in beside you. He tugged you back towards him, holding you to his chest, and reaching over you switching off the light, bathing the two of you in darkness.
"Y/N?" You turned in his arms, facing him as he looked down at you lovingly. He placed his hand back on your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb down your face. He leaned closer to you, his face a mere inches from your now. He searched your face for any sign of apprehension. Finding none, he placed his lips softly on yours, pulling you closer. His kiss was slow and gentle, careful not to break you.
You relished in the feeling of his lips on yours, it seemed as if everything he did was only to comfort you. Dean pulled away slowly, not pushing you any further. He looked at you, as if asking you if you were all right. After you nodded he leaned back down to you, instead peppering kisses once again on your cheeks.
"You are beautiful. You are amazing." He spoke in between pecks. "You deserve the best things. You have so much to live for. You are not going to die. I am not going to let you die." He looked you directly in the eyes now. "I will be here as long as you need me. I am not going to leave you." He wiped away the stray tear that had escaped from your eye with the pad of his thumb.
He quickly kissed your lips once more, before pulling you closer to him. You snuggled into his chest cherishing the warmth of his skin on yours, closing your eyes, falling asleep with the comfort of knowing that Dean was there. Dean was going to be there.