I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

I Quit

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, his voice lacking the anger I thought it would hold. Instead, he sounded resigned, defeated. Somehow, that was so much worse.

"It wouldn't have changed anything, Dean," I mumbled and placed my hand on his. He flinched, an action I hardly noticed in the darkness. "If anything, it would have made things worse... he would have died with his sons resentful of his decision, rather than having one last happy moment..."

Dean fell silent, his palms clenching and releasing slowly with each thought that passed through his mind. I glanced at his calloused hands and noted the thin, crescent markings left in his palms, and frowned. He jumped as I slipped my hand into his, timidly lacing our fingers.

"John was... he was a really good man," I mused, squeezing Dean's hand reassuringly. "You and Sam meant everything to him."

"I know," he whispered out and placed his free hand on his knee, head hung in thought. "I know," he repeated softly. He slipped his hand from mine and I grimaced at the sudden lack of warmth. "Are you leaving tonight?"

"No," I murmured and placed my palms on the bed behind me, leaning back slightly. "I'm not sure when we're leaving. I guess whenever I think you and Sam will be alright."

Dean scoffed and frowned at the dust bunnies hidden by the edge of the bed. "Sam and I, we'll be fine. I'm fine."

"Like hell, you are," I spat, a bit more aggressively than intended. "Dean, I know you. You're my friend-" I ignored the bitter taste the words left in my mouth, wishing I could somehow change them. "- I know you're not OK. I'd be more worried if you were."

He fell silent and my eyes roamed haphazardly over his figure. I was thankful he was out of the hospital, though he would have a few lasting scars. I wondered if the wounds the demon had inflicted were still present, or if they too had been removed by John's deal.

"I miss how things were... back before we found your father in Chicago, before I met Calliope," I began, words tumbling out before I could stop them. "I miss when you and I weren't always fighting, or sharing depressing moments like this." I sighed and fell back on the bed, bouncing slightly, and splayed my fingers out on my stomach. "I miss seeing you and Sam happy and hopeful... I just want to see you like that again before I..." I trailed off, not knowing how to finish my statement.

Was I ready to give up hunting? I didn't think so - I didn't think I'd ever be ready. I loved the feeling of being able to make a difference, but lately, it felt as if everything we did was damaging. No matter how much I wanted to stay and be there for the brothers, I needed a break. Everything about hunting was so intoxicating, and not always in a good way.

I turned my head and allowed my eyes to roam once more over Dean. It wasn't just hunting that I would miss.

"If I asked you to come with me, would you?" I asked, tired eyes meeting the pale ceiling, white paint peeling and cracking. "Get out of hunting, at least for a while. Take a break."

Dean paused, his shoulders halting their previously steady rising and falling as he breathed deeply. "Not this time," he mumbled, eyes fixated on the opposite wall. "I still have things I need to do before I quit."

I sat up suddenly, head spinning from the blood rush in the darkness. His green eyes met mine, clearer than anything else in the darkness. His lips were pursed in the darkness, plump and smooth. Despite the shadows cast on his face, every piece of him, every angle looked impeccable.

Intoxicating.

"Do you really want to get out? To stop hunting?" I asked shyly, voice barely above a whisper. I had a difficult time believing Dean could ever give up hunting - it was all he had ever known, all I had ever striven for; but... his comment gave me hope that perhaps someday he would give it up and seek out a normal life.