Falling for a Hunter (Female Reader x Dean Winchester)

This chapter loosely follows "Like a Virgin," "Unforgiven," and "Mannequin 3: The Reckoning." I realize that the last chapter was a bit long... hopefully, you all enjoyed it. This one is shorter than the last, and I think it flows a bit better than chapter 33. LMK what you think, I love reading all of your comments. (Even if they are negative lol). 

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Even though it's been nearly ten days since Sam's soul was restored, his body remains stubbornly comatose in the bunker. The silence surrounding his unmoving form is deafening, each day that passes without any sign of life from him only heightens the tension in the air. Death had promised he would wake soon, but the sight of Sam lying there, motionless and pale, fills you with a gnawing sense of dread. The bunker, usually a place of refuge and strategy, now feels like a tomb, echoing the weight of your unspoken fears.

Desperate for answers, you and Dean had turned to Castiel, hoping the angel could offer some insight or at least a glimmer of hope. But Castiel's hesitant response was anything but reassuring. His gaze had been sorrowful, almost as if he regretted the news he was about to deliver. "I don't know if Sam will ever recover," Castiel had admitted, his voice laced with the uncertainty that only deepened the pit in your stomach. The words felt like a death sentence, not just for Sam, but for the fragile hope you'd been clinging to.

Still, you forced a smile, as you always do, reassuring Dean with empty platitudes. "He'll pull through," you had whispered to him, your voice trembling slightly, but determined to maintain a brave face. You're good at this—pretending everything is fine, even when it feels like the world is collapsing around you. You've done it so many times before, it's almost second nature now. Dean needed to believe that Sam would wake up, so you gave him that belief, even if it was the last bit of hope you had to offer.

But behind that facade, you're crumbling. Over the last ten days, you've developed a nervous tick, a sign of the internal chaos you're desperately trying to suppress. Every creak in the floorboards, every click of Dio's paws on the cold floor, and even the faintest gust of wind from outside makes you snap your head around, expecting to see the figure of Death looming behind you. You'd think that after everything, after the encounter with Death himself and his cryptic message to you, you'd be at peace with the idea of an end. After all, isn't that what you wanted? To finally escape the pain, the endless cycle of fighting and loss?

But now, all you feel is regret—a suffocating, all-encompassing regret that wraps around your heart and squeezes it until you can barely breathe. You regret ever wishing for death, ever thinking that ending your life would bring any kind of solace. Now that you've come so close to it, you realize how much you have to lose. The mere thought of leaving Dean, of never seeing him smile again, never hearing his voice, or feeling his touch, fills you with a cold, hollow fear. You regret making everyone worry about you, regret causing them more pain when they already carry so much on their shoulders.

But the regret goes even deeper than that. You regret not being a better partner to Dean—regret the fights, the stubbornness, the need to prove yourself as his equal in the hunting world. You realize now how much it hurt him when you went behind his back, how your insistence on being treated the same drove a wedge between you. You regret not trying harder to start a family, not giving Dean something to hold onto, something that could have made your lives richer, fuller, more meaningful. Instead, you let your fears and insecurities dictate your actions, pushing him away when all he wanted was to protect you.

You've been distant these past ten days, retreating into yourself not because you want to, but because you can't stop the flood of thoughts and regrets from overwhelming you. Every time you look at Dean, you're reminded of all the ways you've failed him, all the ways you could have been better, could have loved him more, could have made him happier. The guilt is suffocating, a heavy weight that presses down on your chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything other than replay your mistakes over and over in your mind.