"Alright! Well I'm going to head down to that bar at Second and Ash to ask if anyone's seen anything crazy lately," Dean says casually, his eyes not meeting yours. As if you don't already suspect what he's been up to. As if you haven't already had a hundred conversations with Sam about what you think his brother might be doing. As if Sam isn't fully prepared to follow Dean as soon as he walks out that motel door.
"I'll stay here," you say casually, gesturing to the pile of newspapers, pictures, and open laptops. "There's a lot research to do if we're going to sink this thing properly. Right Sam?"
Sam jumps at his name, stumbling over his words, "Absolutely. Yeah. Don't worry, Dean. Just call one of us if you find anything interesting out."
Dean kisses your lips gently, before grabbing his keys and calling over his shoulder, "Don't wait up!" It's not until the door closes behind his frame that you realize he used to say he loved you before he left. Even if it was just to run to the store. It's as if all your assumptions are true in this one simple act. Your hands begin shaking and you find yourself fighting back tears as you turn to face Sam. His face is serious. He didn't want to be the one to spy on his brother, but when you reminded him how suspicious it would be if you were out in town, considering you always stayed back at the room while they did the preliminary interviews, he finally agreed. It's not that he doesn't believe you; it's that he doesn't want to believe that his brother would be capable of such infidelity.
Leaving quietly, stopping only to say that he'll call you if he sees anything suspicious, Sam leaves, leaving you alone with a pile of research you don't care about and an anxious heart. If what you suspect is true, this is all over. The life on the road, hunting. Waking up every morning to green eyes and freckles. The fierce loyalty that you've grown so accustomed to. In an instant, it could all be gone. And if what you suspect is false, then you have to spend the rest of the time with Dean knowing that you doubted his faithfulness. And that, you suspect, could be the end to your relationship.
You're not sure how long you sit on the corner of the bed, cell phone in hand, waiting for Sam to call. An hour? Three? Glancing at the clock, you sigh softly. Two hours. Two hours, and still you've heard nothing and then, just as you dare to believe that you were wrong, your cell rings. You let your eyes close for a moment before focusing on the name on the screen. Sam Winchester.
"Sam?"
Silence follows for a moment, and just as you're about to say his name again, Sam speaks softly. "You were right." He pauses, as if he's struggling with the information as much as you are. As if it's his world falling apart and not yours. "I, um. I took pictures. You know, for proof. So I'm on my way back. Stay there, and don't do anything stupid."
And then there's silence, the line goes dead, and all of a sudden, the full force of what Sam just admitted slams into your chest. Tears build in your eyes, and your throat is burning with the want to scream as loudly as you can. Dean cheated. And Sam has proof. Shaking hands find their way to your hair where you pull at it for a moment before dropping your face in your hands and sobbing heavily. After everything you've been through with Dean, he cheats.
After the night you first met, when a werewolf had you pinned against a brick wall down an alley, and just as you thought for certain that you were going to die at the hands (paws?) of a creature you previously believed to be fictional, a knight in worn-in leather was there, and you were safe. And when you finally fell apart, after fighting and staying strong the entire evening, he didn't push you away, but instead comforted you. Instead, he came back the next morning to make sure that you were okay. Instead, he took you out for breakfast.
After the Christmas that you convinced Dean to splurge for a room that had a kitchen in it, and when he and Sam got back from a rather brutal vampire hunt, walked in the door to a full Christmas dinner, turkey and everything. Presents under the tree, eggnog in a punch bowl on the counter, tinsel hung in the windows. It was the one night that everything felt normal for a moment, instead of so incredibly complicated and chaotic.
After the morning that your mother called to tell you that your father had died, and when you were too hysterical to drive, drove you fourteen hours across the country so that you could be there for his funeral. And attended with you, in suit and tie, so you wouldn't have to put your father in the ground by yourself. And held you when you spent the entire night crying, because you finally realized that your daddy wouldn't be there to help you anymore.
After spending the past six months cooking meals, cleaning up rooms, helping with laundry, facilitating research, keeping the ammo and salt fully stocked, charming older men into telling you information/giving you money/buying you drinks for information.
For a moment, you're so lost in the memories of Dean that you don't hear Sam walk in. It takes him saying your name several times for it to click. And when you snap out of your reverie, begging to see the pictures, Sam shows you regretfully. Dean, arms wrapped around a gorgeous blonde. Lips on her neck, her hands in his hair. Rage bubbles in your throat and you realized what it feels like to be betrayed by the person you trusted the most. But the final picture, the nail in the coffin, is Dean looking over his shoulder as he walks in her front door. Like he's watching his back. Looking for you.
The pain is insurmountable. When Sam reaches towards you to comfort you, you take a violent step back, knocking a beer bottle off the table, flinching as it shatters on the floor. "Don't touch me!" Then with a wince and all your strength, you bend to pick up the glass with shaking hands. Sam grabs the trash can, holding it towards you silently. Desperate to help; smart enough to know better.
And then before you can really accept that this is it, you have been cheated on by Dean Winchester, and your relationship with this beautiful, kind, protective man is over, he walks in the door. A lazy smile etches his lips as he closes the door behind him, which is replaced with concern when he sees the disheveled state you're in. His eyes flit quickly to Sam, who stares back in disappointment.
"Wh-"
"I know what you did, Dean," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The pain is shooting through your body with such force your hands are shaking violently, your chest hurts with the ache of knowledge. "Was I not good enough for you?"
And realization hits him. His eyes fill with guilt, confusion.
"I don't understand what she," you punctuate the word by holding up the phone with the picture of him and her. "Has that I don't."
Still no response from the famous Dean Winchester. The one who can spout of a sarcastic line faster than anyone you've ever met in your entire life. Speechless. Not even a lie. He always was a terrible liar.
"I will not come in second, Dean." Your voice cracks at his name. This is it. "I love you," Tears pour down your cheeks, and you have to pause to suck in a deep breath. "but I will not do this."
"Baby, I-"
"Don't you dare 'baby' me, Winchester," you're tearing through the room, collecting items you recognize as your own, shoving them in the closest bag you can find. You don't have a car, but you have money and a phone, and there's a bus station just a few blocks away. You saw it on the way here. "I told you that I don't share. You made your bed, now lay in it."
Pushing past Dean, feeling your heart break into a million pieces as you do, you focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Because you know the second you stop and let him explain himself, you'll forgive him and you'll stay, and you'll go to bed with the man who an hour ago was in another woman's bed. You agreed to love a hunter; you did not agree to love a cheater.
But what hurts the most as you force yourself to leave your world behind you, is the fact that he makes no move to make you stay. For someone who says he cares so much about loyalty and family, he's not doing a very good job of keeping his word. You're half a block away when a car pulls up beside you and slows, and you hear your name called from the window. You're seconds from screaming when you realize it's not Dean who followed you, but Sam.
"I'll take you home. Please get in the car." And though it takes you a moment of serious consideration, you comply. Because Sam, although he's the brother of the last person in the world you want to talk to, was honest and considerate, and nearly as distraught as you were at the news. As you slide in the seat, he says softly, "I can't speak for him, but I'm sorry. You deserve better."
When you don't reply, he shifts out of park and heads towards the city limits. You watch the houses and buildings pass, with one thought assaulting your emotions, "I may deserve better, but I don't want it."