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In any other situation Dean would have been over the moon to visit Bobby’s place. The run down, bored up house that sat in the middle of a junkyard was basically paradise to the teen. He wasn’t forced to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to train, he would get to eat home cooked meals, get to be a teen for at least a week, and the cherry on top seeing you. That idea alone made his heart flutter.
But it wasn’t any other situation. Instead he sat in the back of the impala, holding his shirt to his nose. Scared to remove it in case the bleeding hadn’t stopped and it dripped onto the floor of the impala. It hadn’t even been a monster that caused the bloody. John had after backhanding him in a blind rage.
“WHERE WERE YOU?!” The older man had raged, yelling at Dean. His hands balled into fists, shaking with unbridled rage.
Dean tried to explain, stumbling over his words in a way that was completely unnatural to him, that he was chasing a lead. He thought maybe it wasn’t a Demon that they were hunting, but his father wasn’t having it. John could only see that Dean hadn’t shown up for the hunt.
Before he could process the movement, Dean was knocked to the floor. His vision went blurry for a second before he felt his nose ache. Tentatively he raised a hand to feel his face. When he pulled it back, and saw the thick red liquid that sat on his hands, he began to shake slightly.
John looked at the boy, his stomach dropped instantly. He was at the boy's side quickly
"Dean... I'm sorry. Oh god"
John drove silently. His knuckles turning white from his grip on the wheel, and his eyes set on the road. He never looked back to check on Dean or Sam, guilt gnawing at his stomach and a lump sat heaving in his throat.
“Wake your brother up.”
Dean gently shook Sam awake, who groaned but sat up, his hair slightly disheveled, as they pulled into the junkyard.
You had been getting ready to go out with some friends when you heard the landline ring out once before your adoptive father answered with a gruff hello, before slipping on your shoes to leave. Bounding down the stairs you could hear your father curse and froze.
‘Damn it John! Bring ‘em here.”
You winced, knowing that meant the Winchester boys would likely be staying. You didn’t mind of course, they were your best friends, and maybe the older one held a special place in your heart.
Typically though you and your father had enough warning to make sure the rooms they stayed at were at least tidy. Bobby liked to make sure the boys had a nice place to sleep since they were used to bug infested motel rooms.
You didn’t want to leave that task alone to your father, especially since he had been fighting a chest cold for a week or so now. He of course would never ask you to cancel your plans but that didn’t change a thing.
Soon you heard the phone being hung back up and your father rounded the corner.
“Hey kiddo, what time are you gonna be home?”
“Dad… I heard the boys are coming over…”
The old man sighed, and shook his head.
“I’ll help…”
“You don't have to. You got plans”
“Plans can wait”
With that he nodded and muttered something about being too damn good before making his way upstairs with you on his heels to help clean the room up.
It was a few hours later when you heard the engine of the impala pull around to the front of the house. You were downstairs in an instant, like a kid on Christmas. Your feet flew out from underneath you to run down the stairs, passing Sam on your way.
When you rounded the corner however your stomach dropped, heart lurching at the sight of Dean holding his bloodied shirt with dried blood caked under his nose, on his lips and chin.
“Oh my god.”
Quickly you rushed towards the boy who was two years your senior. Eyes scanning over his body for any other injuries. He should be making some quip comment about how you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Why wasn't he being a smart ass?
“What happened?”
“Nothing. ‘M fine.”
“Liar.”
“I swear. I’m just thirsty”
You knew he was lying, but before you could prod some more out of him your father asked you to go get him a glass of water, his tone however was more of a soft demand rather than a favor.
You nodded and walked into the kitchen grabbing the glass and filled it with the water. When you turned the sink off you could hear your father’s tense voice. You didn’t step out just yet.
“The hell where you thinking John?!” He practically growled.
You had never ever heard your father speak to someone in such a way. It didn’t feel right the man was a bit prickly yes, but also a big teddy bear. What the hell happened?
“The boy wasn’t there.”
“So you broke his nose!”
You felt your hand tighten around the glass you were holding, and before you could stop yourself you stormed into the room. Your chest heaving, and free hand shaking.
“You hit him?” Your voice never wavered as you met John’s glare with your own.
You had never liked the man. You were cordial of course, after all he was your dad’s friend, but beyond a quick greeting to him you rarely interacted with him. Just grabbed Dean and Sam and dragged them behind you, to do whatever you had planned. But this? This was unforgivable.
“It ain’t your damn business girl.”
John stepped towards you slightly. Hands bawling into fists. Despite this you held your ground. Never looking away from him.
“You. Hit. Him.” You stated once more.
Dean finally snapping out of his daze enough to gently grabbed your free arm. He didn’t want you in his father’s line of fire.
“It’s okay I swear… Why don’t we go upstairs?”
Your head whirled to Dean. Seeing his broken nose made your heart lurch slightly more now, knowing that his own father was the reason behind it.
“No it’s not.”
“The boy deserved it!” John snapped out.
Before you could process what you were doing you launched the glass at the man’s head.
John lunged, but Dean had yanked you out of the way.
You twisted your arm free, and lunged back at the man, you fist met his face as he stumbled backwards a bit, before he regained his ground and grabbed the back of your neck.
Bobby soon was pulling John off you, his face red with furry. His hands on the collar of John’s shirt as he shoved the man against the bookshelves.
“Go. Get out of my house”
“You’re kidding me right!”
“Get. Out.”
Bobby let him go and backed up, just enough that John could storm out of the house before turning on you.
“What the hell was that?!” He yelled, half out of surprise by your actions, another out of fear you had also gotten hurt.
Your cheeks burned hot, chest heaving from the exercise. Your hands balled so tightly you could feel the sting of your nails on your palms.
“... I don’t know…”
“Ya don’t know?!”
“He just… He said that and I just snapped”
Bobby sighed and looked at you, before gently smacking you upside the head.
“Idjit, take Dean upstairs and get him cleaned up and go to bed. We’ll clean this shit up tomorrow."
You nodded before gently clasping Dean’s hand in your own. Leading him to the upstairs bathroom. Guiding him to sit on the toilet as you ran the sink to warm the water up.
“You… are you hurt?” He asked, a bit dazed. His head was spinning, all he wanted to do was hold you tightly. He felt small…
“You’re asking me that?”
“Are you?”
“A bit sore, but I'm fine.” You said as you grabbed a wash cloth and soaked it under the now warm water. Gently tilting his head back. Carefully washing his face. Apologizing every time he winced. It hurt to know you were causing him pain, despite the fact you were helping.
Once you were done, you stepped back and began to ring out the bloody wash cloth. Your eyes trained on the rag as you rung it out gently. Suddenly you felt strong arms wrap around you. Dean's chest flush against your back, his back bent slightly to bury his face in your neck.
In any other situation, you would be a blubbering mess as your heart fluttered and mind would be screaming at you.
“De…”
Your hand rested on his forearm.
“Thank you…”
“You-”
“Don’t.”
The two of you stood like that for what felt like hours, although you knew it probably was only a few minutes.
“You need rest…”
“Don’t wanna let go…”
“De…” you sighed and gently pried yourself free.
Dean opened his mouth to protest, but you gently shushed him, and led him towards your room. Gently you sat him on your bed, despite the fact he was still in his jeans and shirt.
“What are you doing?” He asked, looking up at you like you had lost your mind. He had never been in your room before, half out of respect for you, half out of fear of what Bobby would do to him.
“Your gonna sleep in my bed…”
“But Bobby…”
“My door will be open… It will always be open."
Dean tried to find another reason but he came up empty, so he kicked his shoes off and shuffled backwards and laid on his side. Once you joined him his arm wrapped around you, and pulled you tightly against him. Soon sleep pulled him completely under, snoring lightly
Hours later Bobby made his way up the stairs. When he saw your door open he went to close it. Stopping when he saw the sight of you and Dean laying on top of the covers cuddled into each other.
“Damn Kids.” He muttered before pulling the door closed.