Falling for a Hunter (Female Reader x Dean Winchester)

Finished this chapter right after the last one, so it is kind of like a part 2. Hope you enjoy 💔 

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You sit in the farthest corner of the library, the murmur of conversation blending into a dull hum as hunters from across the country gather to pay their last respects to Mary. The bunker feels smaller than ever, packed with bodies moving in and out, their footsteps heavy against the floor. The scent of burning wood and old paper lingers in the air, mixing with the faint traces of whiskey and gun oil that always seem to follow hunters wherever they go.

You still haven't told Dean about your eyes. Not yet. With Castiel preoccupied—grieving the loss of Jack in his own quiet, solemn way—you've decided to push through on your own. At least for now. So you keep your head low, eyes trained on the table, unwilling to let the blurred figures passing by disorient you more than they already do.

From the other end of the room, Dean's voice rises above the murmurs, steady but carrying the weight of grief.

"We know it wasn't easy for some of you to get here, and we thank you," he begins, his voice thick with emotion. You force yourself to look up, blinking rapidly to steady your vision as his familiar shape comes into focus. "We, uh—we gave her a Hunter's send-off a few days ago. But we know that her family went beyond just us. Some of you hunted alongside her. Some of you fought Michael with her in the other world. You know, we lost our mom once before. But we got a second chance with her. And we got to know her not just as 'Mom,' but as someone who was tough and strong. Stubborn as hell. Someone who had opinions and wasn't shy to use them. She could handle a machete. She could handle a vampire. She could handle our old man. She couldn't cook worth a damn. Mom, you weren't here long enough. But we're so glad for the time that we had. Goodbye, Mom."

A lump forms in your throat as Sam steps up beside his brother. His voice is softer, but no less broken as he echoes, "Bye, Mom."

The gathered hunters raise their glasses. "To Mary."

The moment is heavy, solemn—until something sharp and fast cuts through the air. Before anyone can react, it strikes a man in the chest, dropping him instantly. Gasps ripple through the room, hands flying to weapons. Then, from the doorway, Bobby steps in, his expression hard but tinged with amusement.

"Damn Wraith," he mutters, lowering his shotgun.

For a split second, there's stunned silence—then an uproar of laughter. The tension in the room eases, just a little.

You barely register any of it as Dean makes his way toward you, his broad frame moving through the thinning crowd. His shoulders are hunched, his expression unreadable. He sinks into the chair beside you with a heavy sigh.

"Good speech," you say softly, reaching for his hand.

He scoffs, shaking his head, but he takes your hand anyway, squeezing it lightly. "Thanks." A beat passes before he glances at you. "How are you doing?"

You huff a quiet laugh. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Dean exhales, his grip tightening for just a second. "Listen... I, uh... I wanted to say sorry—"

"Don't," you cut in gently, leaning in closer, trying to make out his expression despite your fading vision. The lamplight flickers against his features, casting shifting shadows that make it even harder to focus. "We have too much to worry about already. Let's not add us to the list, alright?"

He hesitates for only a second before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. "Alright..."

Before either of you can say more, Sam approaches, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Hey, uh... most everybody's headed out, but Bobby's gonna stick around. I thought maybe we could open that scotch Ketch left and—" He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. "Talk about Mom."