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The air in the motel room I was sharing with Dean was filled with a thick, raging tension. And not the kind that I would have dreamed about five years ago.
We had just gotten back from a... somewhat successful case. 'Somewhat' because the monster we were hunting was ganked, but I was in shitty shape after a somewhat reckless decision on my part to make myself bait in order to save the victims. They were kids. I couldn't not do something. My plan worked, in the end. And I survived, but that doesn't mean that Dean is any less angry.
"I can't believe you." A bitterness laced in his voice when he finally spoke up.
"Says the guy who sold his soul to save Sam. How is me putting my life at risk to save a victim or few any different?" I say, feeling as if his anger is misplaced and unjust. "Because I had a damn good reason!" Dean fires back, a harshness to his tone. "You knew I was close by. You had no reason to put yourself in danger when I could have handled it," Dean says.
"And I handled it faster," I say. And better.
Dean's eyes blaze a furious fire. "Well bravo! Did you want a goddamn medal? Is that what this is about?"
I scoff in disbelief.
"God- you're such a dick, Dean" I say, feeling like a teenager again. Back when Sam and Dean first took me in. Sitting on the damn bed of the motel room as they scold me for my reckless behaviour. "And you're a dumbass, but that's not new". Dean retorts, feeling a spike of anger coursing through him. "I told you already- I could handle it. I handled it". "You handled it by almost ending up goddamn dead, that's what." The harshness of Dean's voice rings true in his tone.
And that was my first mistake.
"So what? It's not like I have a family to mourn my death in this universe anyways, remember?"
There's a flash of a moment where Dean is clearly taken aback by that comment. His eyes lose their anger, replaced by a plethora of emotions, if only for a moment before it rushes back. "You don't mean that." He says.
Those goddamn puppy dog eyes of his. He always makes me cry.
"Fucking hell, Dean! What? You really want to do this right now?" I say, hot tears beginning to brim my eyes and blurry my vision. My throat clogging up.
"My family probably thinks that I'm dead if not missing. It's been five years, Dean. I'm in a different fucking universe, Castiel can't open another portal and fuck— what the hell am I supposed to do if he could anyways? It's not like I can explain what happened without being sent to an insane asylum." I almost yell.
and repeat.
"I don't have a family. Not in this universe."
Dean's face is unreadable to almost everyone in the world. But I know him and his body language after so long, at I can tell that I struck a nerve.
"You have me." He says.
Not with a harshness. But with a gentleness that I know he's not used to showing. I don't know if I can believe that he means it. Hell, I don't know if I want to believe it. But there's a flicker of warmth there that was never there before. Not obviously. But it hurt. I was torn between two worlds. I still was.
And that did it. The tears overflowed and I choked back sobs as I just stared back at him.
"That's not the same kind of family, Dean"
"Maybe not but I'm the closest thing you've got, dammit." Dean's voice drops to a whisper, "You're not alone. Not as long as I'm alive."
My brows furrow and my nose scrunches up as I retreat in my posture, slightly shaking my head. "Don't. Don't say that shit, Dean."
I can't accept it.
He closes the distance between us. Not to strike me. No- God forbid he ever become like his father. But to hold me. He wraps an arm around my shoulders as he pulls me into a hug. "I know I've been hard on you and yeah I'll be honest, you did piss me off. And I could have communicated that a lot better by talking about it instead of yelling. But you know what? It's because I care."
I don't move. Or respond. Just... listening. All the while I want to scream and shout and push him away and make it about me, but it's not about me anymore. Not to me. And it never should have been, to begin with. I don't deserve to even be alive still.
Dean's arms tighten around my shoulders. I can feel the warmth of him as I'm awkwardly placed with my head against his chest. He takes a deep breath.
"I'm not very good at words. I'm not like you and Sam. You two were book smart, I was street smart. And I'm still figuring out how to show my emotions in a way that isn't a sharp comeback or something of the sort. But the one thing I can tell you - that you can know for sure without any shadow of a doubt - is that I care."
"I'm not as book smart as Sam is," I choke out in a sobbing laugh. Still trying to defy him without rejecting him. Like a fool.
Dean chuckles and brings one hand up to cradle my head in the hug. "No. You're as equally smart as he is, just in different ways. But that's not the point right now. The point is that... I care, okay?"
A long silence fills the room, the only sounds coming from the breaths Dean and I are both taking. Until finally, Dean speaks up again. His voice was soft. "Can I tell you something stupid?"
I lean my forehead against his shoulder, the headache from my crying still throbbing.
"Sure"
I can feel as he takes a shakey breath before he speaks, his voice low, "I don't really like hugs. Don't like being close to people." He's quiet again for a moment, I can feel him trembling, but it's impossible to tell if he's shaking from the cold or something else. "But I...," he takes a deeper breath, "I liked this"
"Are you crying?"
"Shut up." Dean laughs bitterly, almost as if half-heartedly yelling at me. He fails to mask the break in his voice. "I...," his grip tightens and I can feel him shaking more. He doesn't answer my question. Instead, he leans down, leaning his head against mine. Dean isn't one for words. Maybe he never will be. But in his own way, he's telling me that he appreciates this and me.
"Okay," I say, deciding to slowly fall asleep in his arms. Barely acknowledging him tense up. He wanted to look into my eyes and search them to figure me out. But he decided it was in vain and he simply closed his eyes. Taking in the scent of my hair. Taking in the scent of him.
When I wake up, I'm in Baby and one of Dean's casettes is playing, the volume is low. He must have not wanted to wake me up.
"Did you carry me to the car?"
Dean glances up from the windshield to look over at me. He shrugs, "Yeah." He looks back at the road ahead of him, "Thought you might want to rest for a bit." He turns the music up a bit now that I'm awake.
"Thanks."
"No prob. You look like crap, by the way," Dean says as he looks over at me again.
My third second mistake.
"I wonder whose fault that is, bitchface," I say, sitting up. I never did know when to joke.
Dean's eye twitches as he looks over at me for a moment again, "Hey, at least I didn't almost get your ass killed, dumbass."
"I'll just wait for you next time and watch the victims die."
I can feel Dean take a breath in my very soul, the tension in the car beginning to rise. "Look," He says with that hard edge back in his voice, "I know I went overboard. And I'm sorry for what I said. But you shouldn't have put yourself in danger like that. It was reckless and stupid. If you died, I would have-" He breaks off his sentence, not finishing it. But you can probably guess what he was going to say.
"Don't tell me I grew on you that much in the five years we've known each other," I say.
"Maybe you did, shithead" Dean says, that edge to his voice finally falling away. He returns his full attention to the road ahead of him. After a long silence I speak up.
"I'm sorry"
"It's okay," Dean says, he doesn't turn to look over at me. "If I had a nickel for every time you and me got into a stupid fight because of one of us being a dumbass, I'd be living in a damn mansion. So...," he finally glances over at me again. "No hard feelings, right?"
"Don't brush it off. Don't just accept it like that. I need you to still hate me before accepting my apology. It doesn't feel right if you're not angry with me after-" after I say I'm sorry.
If Dean were anyone else, I'd think he was rolling his eyes right now. "Fine. You can't just apologize your way out of everything, you know. If I forgive you now, it'll feel like you didn't learn anything if you just give an 'I'm sorry' and get absolved of everything."
"Thank you". I said, though I did feel kind of offended and angry about it now.
There's a small chuckle from Dean, "You realize that I'm the one who's supposed to be pissed off at you, right?" He glances at me again, "Look, I overreacted, okay? I went into parent mode. But you scared the hell out of me."
"Don't apologise to me. I'm the unreasonable garbage can."
Dean throws me a dirty look when I say this. "Jesus," he says after a moment of silence.
"No wonder you and Sam are so close. You both have self condifence issues"
"Says you"
"Hey, I don't deny that I do. But at least I don't openly call myself names before anyone else can."
"If I remember correctly, you called me crap, dumbass and shithead before I called myself a garbage can"
....
"Okay. Yeah, you're right," he pauses and there's an almost sheepish, awkward look on his face.
"But that's different."
"How is that different?" I ask.
"Shut up- it just is, okay?"
My laugh echoes in the car and Dean glances over at me, a smirk on his face. "Shut up. You're making it worse for me."
"Whatever you say, Deano"
"Deano? Don't call me that, jackass"
"I do what I want, bitchface"
Dean got annoyed again, and when things were getting so good. All because I couldn't shut up and called him a silly name. "Keep it up and I'll make you sit in the backseat for the rest of the trip"
"Oh no, not the back seat!" I say, mocking fear, a hint of amusement in my voice.
"Yes, the back seat. And I'll play that Justin Bieber crap on the radio so you have to listen to that the whole ride"
"You'd subject yourself to— Oh wait! I forgot, you secretly like all that pop shit! Ahahaha!"
"Baby, baby, baby, ooOooOOoh" I say-sing, laughing my ass off again.
A very real part of Dean's soul just died.
"And just like that, I wish I never saved your ass back there."
"I'd haunt your ass 'cause you didn't mourn me"
Dean turns the music back down, "Yeah, well, it'd be hard to mourn the death of a person with the sense of humor of a twelve year old girl." the annoyance in Dean's voice was palpable.
"hehehe"
"I swear, it's like you're trying to give me a goddamn aneurysm."
"This isn't even one percent of my power, Deaano"
"Shut up"
I can hear the annoyance clearly in his tone. The kind of annoyance you get when your sibling or friend has finally pushed you too far and you have no patience left for them in that moment.
"Damn. Okay. Chill. You sound like my sister. Gosh."
"And you sound like an annoying teenage girl. 'Oh em geee. Haha! So funny.' You're such a dumbass, you know that?"
I don't even bother to respond. He wants me to shut up, right? I'll shut up. I turn my eyes to the road outside the passenger window. Watching us pass the scenery. It's quiet for a moment. Dean is watching the road ahead as I look out the window. But then, almost as an afterthought, Dean speaks up.
"You okay?" He asks quietly.
"No."
"Yeah. Yeah, that's fair."
The silence falls again. The only sound being the car engine humming and the road rushing by. The drive is long and slow. Dean's cassette had ended.
"You wanna talk about it?" Dean eventually half-heartedly asks.
"....no"
"Yeah. Figured. You can be about as open and communicative as a rock."
"Rude."
"Accurate."
There's a longer silence and then he asks again, "You sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"I felt worse when you snapped at me just now for being annoying, than our argument last night because of my suicidal shit."
"Jesus Christ, Mauri." Is all Dean says at my reply. He doesn't even bother to hide the frustration in his tone. "I..." He trails off, not really having words to describe how he feels in that moment.
"You need help."
"Yeah. I know"
"You know and you're not seeking it because you think it'll make you weak. Am I right? Because it seems like I can't go a single goddamn week without having some variation of this conversation with you." He looks over at me as he says this, a harshness to his voice.
"There ain't no hunter therapist, Dean."
"Jesus Christ, there doesn't always have to be a damn hunter therapist, Mauri! There is literally nothing stopping you from getting professional, actual help." He sighs and looks away. "Yeah, it's because you think it'll make you weak, right? You think that you're supposed to be this big, strong hunter who doesn't need anyone but herself. No one can help you because that's weak. Is that how it goes?"
"You sound like you're projecting, Dean"
A tense, almost disgusted expression crosses Dean’s face.
“Yeah? I’m projecting?” He almost spits out the words.
“You ever think that you are one of the most self destructive people on the damn planet, Mauri? You just push and push and push away anyone who tries to reach out. You act like it’s your mission to hurt yourself and keep yourself from even trying.” He looks back over at me again and there’s a pained expression on his face that I can see through the irritation.
...
"Can we not do this now, Dean? I'm exhausted"
“Can we not do this? Can you not be like this all the time, Mauri? This is how this always goes, Mauri. We find your ass in a shitty situation and you go and make fun of it, push away anyone who tries to help, then once enough time passes you give a half-hearted, half-assed apology and we go right back to this.” He stops, taking a deep breath to try and rein in himself. The anger isn’t gone, not entirely. But I can see him try to calm himself.
"I'm sorry"
He takes a moment before replying, his tone calmer. But not by much.
“Yeah?” He says quietly.
“You say that a lot. It’s starting to not mean that much.”
I go silent, not responding. How can I even apologize for that? I know he's right. And it even starts feeling like I'm not sorry, the guilt just gets worse. So I don't respond, because I can't.
Dean glances over at you again, still looking straight ahead. But you can see his eyes watching you out the corner of your eye. He runs a hand through his hair and you can almost see him fighting the thoughts in his head. The thoughts and the words he wants to say. Because you can see the frustration written in every part of his body. But he says nothing. He turns to face the window again.
"You can just say what you want to say, Dean"
“You know what? Fine.”
Dean takes a moment to compose himself.
“You don’t get to keep treating people like this, Mauri. It’s not healthy- for you or for them. And I- …..” He sighs and trails off.
“I’m always worried, okay? Every time you disappear on a hunt, every time you come back covered in injuries or blood, every goddamn day I’m worried about you.”
There’s a long pause before he speaks again.
“You’re not a bad person, Mauri. Far from it, actually. But you make horrible decisions - sometimes because that seems like your only choice. And it scares me that you can’t see when you’re hurting yourself.
When you push everyone away, when you get yourself hurt, when you don’t think you deserve help…..”
He sighs and stops talking again. He turns to face the window once again. The words seemed to have come from a place deep inside him, a place that doesn’t often get shown. “I can’t do this, Mauri. I can’t keep worrying about you like this. It’s like you don’t care. You don’t care about yourself or about how your actions affect the people around you. Like you just want to watch yourself fail again and again.
“I know you don’t want to hurt people. I know that. And I know you think that this is you doing what’s best for the world. But Jesus Christ, Mauri. You’re hurting yourself. You’re hurting me. And you’re not getting better.”
"...And it's exhausting. It's hard to worry about you all the damn time."
His voice wavers a bit. It's very obvious that he's struggling to stay calm.
"I know my life wouldn't be the same if you weren't here anymore, Mauri."
Dean pauses, looking ahead and taking a breath, like he's trying to hold back the emotions that he might give up if he doesn't.
"I don't want to lose you."
I feel a gut wrenching feeling in my stomach as I listen to Dean. "I never wanted this for you, or for Sam, Dean. I don't even belong in this world. Your life would be the same if I was never here to begin with. So I'm sorry you got attached to me, because I am so goddamn selfishly selfless that I would lay down my life to save yours.", I say
"That is bullshit."
Dean’s tone is harsh again, his voice rising as he turns to face you again.
“Stop making excuses to justify all the shitty things you do. You know that me and Sam and everyone else would be worse off without you. You know it. What you said just now is-“
He cuts himself off. You can see him struggling with the feeling that something he’s about to say might be too much. The words almost get forced out of him again and then he stops. Just like that.
"is what?"
There’s a pause as he looks out the front windshield, his arms crossed. Finally, he breaks the silence.
“It’s bullshit. Don’t you think I know what you were trying to do there?
“What? You thought being honest about hating yourself meant my sympathy would come out in droves? You thought telling me that you’re a burden on my life would make me feel guilty and just accept everything your doing? Sorry, but that ain’t me.” It’s quiet in the car for a moment.
"Don't play dumb with me, Mauri."
Dean’s expression is more hurt than annoyed this time, like whatever he almost said cut him deeper than even he expected.
“Don’t ever say things like that again. You’re goddamn important, remember? You’re important to me.”
There’s a long pause.
“If you died, I’d die right along with you. And I mean that, Mauri.”
I scoff in response. "You wouldn't die, Dean. You wouldn't kill yourself if I died because you still have Sam and Cass and everyone else to worry about. And because the goddamn mighty Dean Winchester wouldn't kill himself because of a stupid, annoying kid who didn't leave when told there was no way back to their world."
“Yes, I would.” Dean doesn’t say this quietly or with the slightest hint of hesitation. He says this as a fact. “You are the most self-deprecating person I’ve ever met. You look for every opportunity to put yourself down. And do you expect me to ignore it? No. You would drag me down with you.”
"I never wanted you boys to get attached to me. I don't want you to be attached to me. You're not my family, you don't have that right. And as far as they know, I'm missing, or dead already. They'll never see me again, so it wouldn't matter if I were to die. And if I want to die, I get to choose when, where and how. If it's on a hunt to save someone, or during another apocalyptic shitshow to save you or Sam, then I decide that. And you don't get to kill yourself over my sacrifice."
"I'm attached to you, and nothing you say will change that. You're a stubborn, annoying teenager who gets herself into a bunch of shitty situations while trying to help people that won't even try to help themselves. And I will get attached to you because that's what you do when you care about people, idiot."
There's another moment of silence. This time, Dean's face is hard to read. There isn't a hint of the hurt and anger that you've seen him feel before.
"Mauri.
Don't ever say that again."
"I'm twenty two, Dean. I'm not seventeen anymore."
"Yeah? Well, you're acting like you're thirteen."
The car is quiet for a moment.
"Mauri.....please?"
If there could be any trace of Dean's voice quavering, I could hear it now. A very small edge of vulnerability in his tone that I've never heard before. I've heard him yell at you before. I've heard him yell at Sam on countless hunts. But this, hearing this in his voice....the word 'begging' is too strong. But it's not far off.
"So what, I'm just supposed to become an alcoholic to deal with it?"
"No."
Dean's voice is soft with this reply. He looks over at you briefly, then focuses on the road.
"You don't need to deal with anything, Mauri. Because there's nothing to deal with."
There's a pause where you hear him inhale sharply through his nose. Then, he starts to speak again.
"You're not a burden, Mauri. You never will be one. And if anything happened to you and I knew it was because you thought we'd be better off, I'd haunt your ass for every waking moment."
"That's not how it works. The dead haunt the living, Dean."
"Don't argue with me, Mauri."
You can see the frustration building in his expression again.
"You might be stupid. You might be annoying. You might be self-destructive. You might be stubborn. But you are not a burden. Or a mistake. Or a problem that needs to be removed. So stop it."
"Fine." I say, my tone harsh. I clench my jaw, and look out the window again. But my eyes drop their defiant and stubborn gaze after a while, misery taking over. 'He reminds me of Priya', I think to myself.
Dean is quiet as you look away. But there's that sense that he wants to say more. That he can feel you about to spiral into that pit of despair again. But he doesn't. He doesn't say anything. Maybe he knows that it will push you too far this time, or maybe it's just that he's exhausted with you.
He just drives.
The two of you ride in silence, Dean driving the car and you just sitting there in silence. No one saying anything, the only sounds being the engines and the passing scenery.
I switch the cassette and press play on the stereo interface so that one of Dean's mixes starts to play. Something to kill the silence. Something to make him think about something else. Something to make him feel better. Because I don't matter as much as he does. Not to me.
Dean seems surprised when the music starts to play.
In the small corner of his mind, he was half-expecting me to give a snippy comment about how I wanted to drown out his voice and ignore him. And he was honestly kind of relieved that I didn't. Because part of him didn't want to keep on arguing with me, despite how frustrating this whole ordeal is.
He doesn't say anything. But he’s glad the music is on now. If any band can ease the tension in the car, it’s Kansas.
As the drive goes on I start to tap the heel of my right foot to the drums in the songs, keeping quiet.
Dean notices me tapping my foot to the music. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t bring it up. But he glances at me as he listens to the music. He even goes as far to turn the music up at one point. It’s subtle, but subtle is enough for me to notice it.
And I don’t say anything about it, but I'm grateful that the music is at least loud enough that there’s almost no silence now. At first when he does that I crack a smile and exhale briefly, almost a snort. I find myself beginning to cry silently at the kind gesture. He really does remind me of my older sister. I turn my head to look out of the window at an angle where I hope he can't see the tears.
Dean watches you for a moment. He can see your foot tapping still. He can see that you aren’t quite facing him as your cry silently, making sure that your head turns away from him. But he can still see you crying, the tears down your cheeks.
And he’s not stupid. He knows, at least a little bit, what’s going through your mind and why you’re crying. He just doesn’t say anything about it.
The music fills the silence, but it only does so much.
After a while you fall asleep.