Warnings: panic attacks, anxiety, depression, single!Jensen
A/N: Feedback makes my world go 'round. Feel free to send in any requests you may have… I'd love to bring your vision to life. Let me know if I should make this into a series. Please enjoy, and remember to always keep fighting!
Deep down, you knew it was Dean, not Jensen. You did. But your mind was impulsive. Skittish. Always on edge. You'd managed to twist reality, yet again. You made yourself believe it was Jensen saying the words coming out of Dean's mouth. Sometimes, it was hard for you, and even for him, to separate the two men. They were both fierce, incredibly strong, and loving men, and you were lucky to have Jensen as a best friend and Dean as your character, Izzy's, main squeeze. As lines blurred together in your head and you lost clarity as to what was real and what wasn't, you'd convinced yourself you'd just lost both of them.
Honestly, you knew this was inevitable. Besides, you still didn't know how you even scored your job on the show in the first place. You'd watched Supernatural for years before getting an audition, having only taken odd jobs here and there… this bizzaro commercial for an experimental prescription drug that you had to voice an animated alpaca for, a few overly dramatic, low budget student-directed films that you mostly regret being a part of—nothing that made you even remotely worthy of being a part of the SPN fam in this capacity. Heck, not too long ago, you were still fangirling over Jensen and Jared—but you were one-hundred percent a Dean girl at heart—wasting away hours tucked in a cocoon of blankets, stuffing your face with snacks that have zero nutritional value, and easily binging ten episodes a day along with filling the gaps with convention videos. The connection you felt with Sam and Dean was something you couldn't explain or justify to anyone who wasn't a part of the fam, and on many days, you admittedly felt closer to the fictional characters than you'd ever felt to anyone. Like… ever. You knew their birthdays, their favorite foods, their guilty pleasures, and—even though it's kind of TMI—their sexual fantasies. This, of course, lead you to come up with countless unorthodox conspiracy theories and even non-canon ships, but at the end of the day, you know that it's just common knowledge that Destiel is undeniably a real thing.
Sometimes, you still felt like if you pinched yourself hard enough, you'd snap out of everything and realize you were still just a hopeful college student who's eating more ramen than she'd care to admit, missing an unhealthy amount of sleep, and racking up way too much debt to learn the ins-and-outs of directing, producing, and screenwriting. The reality was, though, that by some grace of Chuck, you'd made it big, earning a recurring role on the show that had saved your life when you were in the darkest frame of mind you'd ever been in. Even before joining the cast, the SPN family had provided you with the support you needed to get through your lowest-of-low days, so more often than not, you needed some quality time with your boys to function like a normal human. I mean, yeah, no one really understood your connection to the people that you "didn't actually know" because they "don't actually exist," saying it was "just a show," but to you and the rest of the fam members, it was—indescribably—so much more than they knew.
That's why it hurt so much when you realized everything might be ripped away from you, just like everything else in your life.
"I tried, Dean! You know damn well I tried my best! I did everything I could!" Izzy snapped, tears burning in her eyes and your her throbbing in pain from where she was thrown into the wall by a vampire, knocking her old cold while the other members of the nest ganged up on Sam. Dean was catching up to the two of them, having stayed behind to check out the grounds before having to fight his way into the old, abandoned warehouse in Nebraska they'd all traveled to. They were out looking for some victims the nest had taken captive earlier in the week, but no one could figure out what they wanted with them or why they kept them alive. Nonetheless, Izzy and Dean both knew Sam would probably be dead by morning. The vamps wouldn't let him live through the night after finding out he was a skilled—and therefore, deadly—hunter.
"Yeah?! And they still got my brother, didn't they? So, you obviously didn't try hard enough! He's all I got. If you would've paid more attention and been more self-aware, we'd still have Sam! But no, couldn't worry about anyone other than yourself for once, huh? Had to be caught up in your own problems like always." Izzy's salty tears spilled over at his words, and her face crumbled as he yelled in her face.
Even though your character was the one in the fight, in the heat of the moment, you'd be damned if it didn't feel like Jensen was confessing his innermost thoughts to you, revealing that you didn't mean anything to him and that he didn't believe in you as a person.
"He's all you've got, huh, Dean? So, what… I'm nothing now? I haven't been here for the past year, helping you save people, jumping on the family business bandwagon? You know what, Dean? I'm done. You're right, okay? I got… I got Sam killed. I did that. It's not like I'm going to deny it. So, I'm gone, got it? I'll grab my things from the bunker, and I'll be out of your hair."
"That's for the best. Go figure you and your baggage out before you keep hurting everyone around you. Better you be alone than ruining everybody's lives." Dean shoves his weapons back into the back of Baby and jumps in the driver's seat, slamming his door and leaving Izzy behind.
When the scene comes to an end and "cut" is called, it's like you can't shut it off. You can't stop the tears from streaming down your now reddened cheeks. It's not like there's some switch you can just flip to break character, and Izzy had yet to have such an intense scene. Blinking a few times to try and snap yourself out of things, you remain a mess as your breath continues to unevenly hitch. Not only are your hands shaking, but tremors run through your entire body, making your legs feel like jello. As soon as you hear something that sounds vaguely like "that's a wrap for today," you make a beeline for your trailer, though you could barely even see the ground beneath you through the blur of tears in your eyes. It's only after you're nearly to your trailer that you notice the burning that's spread through your chest and throat, everything tightening up and making it hard to get oxygen into your lungs. Stumbling the rest of the way into your trailer, you collapse onto your plush couch, narrowly avoiding a concussion when you nearly bash your head off the coffee table beside it.
Within the walls of your trailer, you're alone now, exactly the way everyone wants you to be. You were never meant to have anyone on your side, not anyone who genuinely wanted to stay. You didn't have any friends from back in high school that stuck around, and it was nearly impossible to make friends in college when you weren't seen as "cool"— whatever that meant. No one could deal with how messed up you were, not even Jensen who had promised time and time again that he wouldn't leave. At the end of the day, though, he hadn't seen you at your worst yet. He'd seen a lot, yes, but you put a good deal of effort into making sure he didn't see you at rock bottom.
You didn't have to worry about that anymore, though, because with how disposal you were as a person, you'd be written off the show by the end of the season and he'd never have to see you again. You'd done yourself an injustice by giving yourself hope that all of this would last because you knew it would hurt that much worse if you let yourself believe that you were finally catching a break.
Your physical condition suddenly catches up with you as your biological needs start to overpower your excruciating inner monologue, and you now notice how much effort it takes to breathe. Before you knew it, you were curled up into the smallest ball you could be in, pitifully gasping for air. How long had it been since you were laying here? Hours? Minutes? You didn't know what was going on in the world outside your trailer, and quite frankly, the outside world didn't care about what was going on inside your trailer. That, you knew for sure. That's why you were so surprised when you heard the familiar sound of your door opening followed by seeing a blurry figure carefully advance toward you. Squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as you could, you tried to just tune everything out. It was probably just a security guard coming to tell you to move your car or something, that it was in the way and that you were just taking up space and that—
"Oh, sweetheart…" you hear Jensen whisper in the most heartbreaking voice you'd ever heard him use, even during a scene.
Hold up—wait. Jensen? The same Jensen that just told you he didn't want you anymore? That you'd be better off being alone so you didn't ruin anyone else's life?
He kneels beside you where you lay in a heap on the couch, probably feeling embarrassed just to be in the same room as you when you're this much of a mess. Apparently the world was full of surprises because you didn't expect to hear what you heard out of him next: a mewling whimper that was so pathetic and desolate that even your heart ached at the sound of it. You realized a second later that it was you making that noise. Within seconds, your best friend… well, former best friend, had you scooped up in his strong, muscular arms that everyone always swooned over, sitting himself down on your couch and simply letting your trembling body slump against his strong, warm one. He's been your rock for a year straight, his support never wavering, and the devastation of losing his friendship hadn't fully hit you yet. You were sure it would, though, sooner than later, but wait… why is he here? Pity? Obligation? Was he—
Your thoughts are cut short when he presses a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. Jensen calmly and tenderly takes your hand in his before laying it against his chest, placing his larger hand on top of yours to hold it in place. "Here, Y/N. You feel that? You feel me breathing? Try to breathe with me, okay?" Oh, right. Breathing. You barely process what he's saying, your head foggy and your chest burning more than it has in a while. You hadn't had a panic attack this bad in weeks, but hey, you knew the calm wouldn't last long. It never does. You try to follow his instructions, sucking in as much oxygen as your body would let you before you're left wheezing, never quite getting a good inhale in.
"Sweetheart, look at me. I'm right here. Focus on me," he murmurs in one of the sweetest voices you've ever heard come out of his mouth. Blinking a few times to focus on what was in front of you, your eyes made their way up to his clean-shaven face, soon finding his brilliant emerald green ones. A small, gentle smile forms on his face as he looks back at you. "Hey, beautiful. I need you to calm down for me, okay? Can you try that for me? We'll figure all this out together, alright? I just need you to take a nice, slow, deep breath." His steady hand continues to hold yours to his chest, and he slows his breathing down even further, inhaling deeply for you to follow.
Pushing past the burning in your chest, you force yourself to take in a shaky breath, your gaze still locked on his. Sniffling and trying to focus solely on the man holding you and nothing else, you slowly let it out, following the pace he's set. After a minute or two of slowing down and deepening your breathing, you let your eyes fall closed. Jensen rubs small, comforting circles into your lower back, knowing from calming you down before that it's one of the most soothing things for him to do for you in times like this. He knows you so well, and for that, you're indefinitely grateful.
"You ready to talk this out with me, Y/N?" he asks, again in that soft voice you almost never hear from him, especially around anyone other than you. You knew he didn't want to hear your sob story, so why was he being so nice? Why did he follow you to your trailer? Didn't he have better things to do? Didn't he want to go… I don't know… do anything else other than be here with you? Didn't he— "Hey, sweetheart… stay right here. With me. Be here with me in the here and now, okay? We're safe in your trailer, you're here with me, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise." Though your eyes are still closed, you can feel his eyes on you, surely with a sincere and concerned gaze that's fixed on your face which you're sure is a red, puffy, and tear-stained mess.
"I'm sorry," you choke out, mortified at how small and hopeless your voice sounds to your own ears. Daringly, you open your eyes and look up at him, needing to see his expression and needing to know what he was feeling. You'd been able to see right through him since the day you met. You could read him like a book, just like he could with you, and you could never hide anything from one another—it was a blessing and a curse—but right now, you saw nothing but pure, genuine confusion and concern on his face. "I'm so sorry, Jense," you continue when he seems speechless. "I know it's hard to be close to me. I know. Trust me, it's hard for me to deal with me, too. Everyone gets to this point with me. Everyone. So, don't feel bad because you can't do it anymore. Don't feel like you have to say anything or stay because you're obligated to. Just—"
"Hey, no. Stop," he whispers, running his nimble fingers through your hair that was still messy from the scene you finished filming a bit ago. "I'm here, aren't I? You know I wouldn't be here if I didn't care. And I'm not going anywhere. I swear."
"But you said!" You nearly whimper out the words, your eyes filling back up instantly, and you rub at them roughly, angry with yourself for not being able to control your emotions. "You said, Jensen. You think I don't know that you meant it?! That you want nothing to do with me anymore?"
Staring at you for a few seconds, again at a loss for words, Jensen shakes his head back and forth, slowly. "This is about the scene," he breathes out, starting to understand. "We should've talked about it beforehand, Y/N. I should've checked in to see how you were feeling about it, if you could process it and be okay with it." He knew about your anxiety. He and Jared both knew, and they helped whenever they could. They knew you were hard on yourself. But at the end of the day, you should be professional enough to be able to separate reality from the show, right? This was on you, not him. "And obviously, you took it to heart," he continues with a remorseful sigh. But isn't it your fault, not his? "I'm so sorry, Y/N. You know that was Dean, don't you? It was only him, not me. You know I care about you, right? That I'd do anything for you?"
You shrugged and looked down, wiping at your eyes again and thankful that filming was done for the day. You couldn't show your face on set again today the way you looked like a steaming hot mess. "I just… it felt like the lines were just giving you an outlet, Jense. A way to break the truth to me, that you wanted out."
"Never," he promises without an ounce of hesitation, his voice so earnest and fierce that you look back up at him, seeing the intensity of his expression. It was then that you knew he was being sincere, that you hadn't lost the most important person in your life. Your life wasn't bursting at the seams. "Listen, no way are you getting rid of me that easy, Y/N. You're absolutely stuck with me. Sorry to break it to you." You couldn't help but crack a tiny grin when his signature smart-ass smirk appeared on his face.
Feeling a sense of calm settle over you, you take one more deep breath, resolving to stop with the water works for the time being. "Thanks, Jense. For coming after me. For not giving up even when I give up on myself."
He shrugs, his smirk morphing into a warm smile. "Like I said, babe, you're stuck with me. Now, what do you say we go back to my apartment and have a lazy night? We don't have to report back to set until tomorrow afternoon, so we can easily take tonight to relax and unwind. Sounds like you may need some chill time, huh?"
You can't help but agree, nodding fervently and shifting so that you're sitting on the couch next to him instead of in his lap. "Ooh, can we get Chinese, Jense?" you asked like a child spotting a toy on the shelf at the store that they just need to take home with them, suddenly perking up at the possibility of getting your favorite take-out food.
This kind of eagerness that was bordering on excessive and your undying passion—even when it was for the little things in life—were parts of you Jensen had come to love, though, so he chuckles, a low rumbly kind of laugh from deep within his stomach. You can't stop the quiet giggle that bubbles up from inside you when he rolls his eyes at you. "Wow, wasn't expecting that one," he remarks, sarcasm dripping from his tone like water seeps from an oversaturated sponge. "You know, you're going to turn into sesame chicken one day."
"And… that's a problem why?" you played along, leaning over to kiss his cheek. Though you kind of missed his hiatus stubble, you had to admit it was kind of nice to feel his smooth skin on your lips during the filming period. Feigning absolute disgust, he "wipes" the kiss from his cheek with the palm of his hand, laughing at the completely fake expression of shock that you plastered on your face at his reaction.
After quickly pecking you on the cheek to return the gesture, he stands up from the couch and reaches his hands down to you. You unquestioningly take the offered hands in your own, rising from the couch. "Come on, Miss Sassypants. Go get changed out of your Izzy clothes meet me back at my trailer so I can grab my stuff, alright? Then our night of unwinding will officially commence. And I better get your fortune cookie as a form of payment for getting Chinese for like the third time in a row."
Before he can go anywhere, you find yourself wrapping your arms tightly around his midsection, pulling him to you. He returns the embrace without a second thought, resting his cheek against the top of his head, the familiar position bringing a small grin to your face. "Thank you for always being here, Jense. For knowing me better than anyone. I don't even want to think what it would be like without you here," you confess, a chill running down your spine at the idea of going through everything on your own like you had for so much of your life. You never had to worry about that again, though. Being alone. Because you had Jensen now, and he had you.
"Shh…" he soothes, running his hand back and forth between your shoulder blades. Your body melts into his. He always knew how to make you feel safe in his arms. "Don't even think about that, okay? Because I'm here, Y/N. Through the good and the bad. The thick and the thin. And whatever happens, we'll figure it out and get through it. Together."