You stepped up onto the porch, your flashlight gripped firmly in your hand and your flare gun in the other. Dean was at the door, looking back at you. "You ready?" he whispered. You nodded and he pushed the creaky door open, the hinges aching for some form of lubrication as the door swung back and hit against the wall with a soft bang. You flinched at the noise, hoping you hadn't alerted the creature you and Dean were hunting. Your boots thumped quietly on the dirtied wooden floor as you followed Dean closely. "Stay close, okay?" came his husky voice from ahead. You nodded again as he turned around to peer at you. He gave you a sort of half smile, sensing how on edge you were. You smiled back nervously and Dean stopped, turning to face you completely. "You don't have to do this with me. If you want, you can wait in the car. I can take out this Wendigo no problem on my own."
"No, it's fine. I'm just a little nervous. First Wendigo hunt, remember?" He smiled.
"Yeah, I know. But seriously, if you're not feeling up to it, I'm cool with you bailing."
"I'll be okay, Dean. Really."
"If you say so," he replied softly, grabbing your hand and giving it a small squeeze before kissing your forehead. You blushed a little and smiled, closing your eyes and leaning gently into his lips. He pulled away and gave you a little wink before turning back around and leading your deeper into the abandoned cabin. You felt more relieved than you did before, more confident in your abilities. Though it would be your first Wendigo hunt, you were sure you'd be able to handle it no problem as long as Dean was by your side. As you both moved throughout the first floor of the cabin, you thought your heard something. You stopped and turned around, looking about the unkept room. Again, there came the noise, more recognizable this time. It sounded like a young girl's voice calling out for help. You listened again to make sure your ears weren't deceiving you and again came the voice, more distressed, it seemed, than before. Your eyes shot back to Dean, who had kept moving. He hadn't seemed to hear it. You thought of going to him and telling him that you were sure the missing girl was close by but the voice came again. Biting your lip and looking from Dean to the source of the voice and back again, you took a deep breath, held your flare gun before you in a defensive manner, and went off in search of the girl. Your heart was beating in your chest rapidly as you rounded the corner quickly, gun firmly in your one hand, flashlight in the other. The room was very cluttered, papers scattered about the floor among dried leaves and dead bugs. Your feet crunched on them softly as you walked cautiously over to the archway that lead into the kitchen. As you stepped onto the faded wooden boards, you felt uneasy. You listened, gripping your gun so tightly your knuckles were white. Your heart beat faster in your chest. From slender broom closet in the corner of the room, you heard a faint voice, the voice of the young girl. Without thinking, you rushed to her aid and nearly ripped the door off it's squeaky hinges. Inside, curled up on the floor in the corner, was a small mess of brown hair and tattered, dirty clothing. The girl looked up at you with wide, frightened brown eyes. Your expression softened and you knelt down to pick her up into your arms and get her out, shoving your flare gun into the back pocket of your jeans. It was odd to see her not strung up like Wendigos liked to keep their victims, but maybe it was different for children. You were a little rusty on their lore and unsure if they had a preference. Either way, you had to get the girl out of that cabin and back into town where her mother was desperately looking for her.
"I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise," you said in your kindest voice. The girl stared at you for a moment before nearly jumping into your arms and burying her face in your shoulder. You gasped a bit before smiling and placing your arm firmly on her back as you stood up. You turned around just in time to see a tall, thin shape looming over you.
"Y/N, watch out!" shouted Dean, who came bursting through the doorway to the kitchen. You had little time to react before the creature was lunging at you. Jumping out of it's immediate path, you landed on your side hard, your shoulder coming into contact with the hard wood floor. "Hey! Over here you ugly son of a bitch!" The Wendigo whirled around only to be met with flare right to the face. It shrieked in pain before bursting into flames and crumpling into a pile of smoldering ash on the floor. Your breathing was heavy and your shoulder ached something awful as you cradled the girl in your arm. Dean looked at the ash, his expression somewhat sour. He then turned his gaze to you, causing you to flinch slightly. Walking over to you, he pulled you up swiftly and started walking out of the room. "Let's go." You carried the girl with you in your arms as you made your way back through the empty rooms, close on Dean's heels. He pushed the screen door of the cabin open and stalked off to the Impala. When he got to the car, he leaned up against the hood, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. As you walked down the rotting steps and to the car, you looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"Dean, what's wrong?" you asked. He looked at you coldly.
"We're not having this conversation now. Get the kid in the car and let's get the hell out of dodge," he replied, his voice just as icy as his gaze had been. You stared at him for a moment, not sure what was going on. He moved from the hood and to the driver's side door, opening it and leaning on it with a frustrated air. "I'll leave you here if you don't get in the car now," he said, swinging himself into the front seat and shutting the door behind himself. The engine roared to life and you quickly hopped into the back seat, still holding the girl firmly in your arms. His eyes shot back at you through the rear view mirror. He seemed even more angry. "Not sitting up front with me then?"
"I don't want to leave her in the back by herself." He seemed like he wanted to say something, but he shut his mouth and instead gunned the engine with a fuming look on his face. The car was soon in motion and you were on your way back into town.
The drive was no more than a half hour was it was the most uncomfortable half hour of your life. Sure, you and Dean had had arguments and awkward silences before; after all, you'd been dating him for at least two years. But this, this felt different. You didn't like it and were almost happy for the little girl in your arms. She made the glares in the rear view mirror a little less scary. Of course, once she was dropped off at the police station and her mother called, that small feeling of security was gone. The ride back to the motel was even worse. You had to sit in the front seat; there was no way around it. When you arrived at your destination, you got out of the car as quickly as possible and rushed to the motel room. However, Dean stopped you, grabbing your wrist firmly in his hand. "Where are you going?" You sighed and turned to face him.
"Let go of me."
"I asked you where you were going."
"The motel room. Where else would I be going?"
"Don't start this shit with me; I'm not in the mood."
"Oh, you're not in the mood? Dean, I'm tired and my shoulder hurts. I need to take a couple aspirin, lay down, and go to sleep. Please, let go of my wrist."
"No, I'm not going to. We need to talk."
"We can talk in the motel room. Come on."
"We're talking here. Now." You sighed loudly and stared at him with annoyance in your eyes.
"What?" You noticed his jaw clench and relax as he stopped to think and choose his words carefully.
"You almost got us killed back there," he finally said bluntly. You looked at him in disbelief.
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard what I said."
"Oh, I know. I simply can't believe my ears. The nerve of you to accuse me of almost getting you killed. You were in no immediate danger. I was the one who almost got ripped to shreds. I'm the one who's shoulder took the beating because I was saving the kid. That's what we do, remember? Save people. Hunt things. And guess what? Death is sometimes part of the deal. But you were nowhere near death, so don't give me that crap. Now let go of my arm; I'm done talking about this and I want to lay down," you said, jerking your arm. He held you firmly in place, his hand tighter now, almost bruisingly tight.
"Shut up. You don't understand. We almost died. You almost died. When I hunt, the casualties are on the other side, never ours. You don't get to die on me," said, his voice almost a growl. He jerked you closer to him, his face right in yours. "You go that?" You glared at him and met his gaze with an equally aggressive one.
"Let. Me. Go," you said through clenched teeth. He stared you down, his green eyes hard. His hand suddenly released you and you pushed yourself from him, rubbing your wrist, which was most likely going to bruise. You turned and looked away from him, feeling your skin boiling with anger.
"Get your stuff and get out," he said from behind you. You straightened your back and looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath before heading to the room. You opened the door as quickly as you could and turned the light on, grabbing your duffle bag hastily, slinging it over your good shoulder and walking out the door again, tossing the key onto the bed. You said nothing as you shoved past Dean and started off toward the main office to acquire another room for the night. His eyes were on you as you walked away, his gaze burning into the back of your skull. You could almost feel tears prickling at the backs of your eyes, but you blinked them away, determined to keep yourself together. You wouldn't cry, not for that man.
You were lucky enough to get another room that night, one that was far away from Dean. You plopped your duffle on the bed and began to dig through the bag, looking for the Ziploc that you kept all your meds in. Finally, you found it, and popped a couple aspirin into your mouth before settling down on the bed and laying back against the cool coverlet. Thoughts swirled around in your head, thoughts of Dean. It was over. It was really over. You sighed loudly and threw an arm over your eyes. "I guess we're done, huh? Well, whatever. It's not like this was gonna last anyway," you spoke softly to yourself. As you drank in your words, a soft knock came at your door. You got up and checked yourself in the mirror before walking up to the door and answering it. "Oh God, what do you want? I've had enough of this for one night. We're done, Dean. You said it yourself. Now leave me alone," you said in an irritated tone as you went to shut the door. He stopped it with his foot and looked at you, his face soft and concerned.
"Please, Y/N, hear me out. I didn't mean it, okay? Look, I got really distressed when that Wendigo came up behind you. I freaked. Seeing you almost torn to shreds was scary. I haven't been that scared in a long time and the thought of losing you was just too much for me. I've lost so many people in my life and I can't lose you too. You're all I've got left," he said, tears starting to brim at the bottoms of his eyes. You looked at him, you face softening at his words. "I needed to apologize to you because what I didn't wasn't right. I shouldn't have talked to you that way and I shouldn't have hurt you like I did. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, say you'll forgive me." For a long time you stared at him. His face was so...bare. He was wide open, vulnerable, and you knew he meant every word of his little speech. But that didn't matter. What he'd did was inexcusable.
"Dean, I'm sorry but I can't. I just can't. What you did was not okay. I see that you know that, but we're done. I won't put up with that behavior because I don't deserve that. I've done relationships like this before. The guy's all sugar and kisses one minute and the next he's gone dark side. You're giving me whiplash with this back and forth crap. I need some time, I need space. If you value me as a person, as a goddamn human being, you'll give me that," you said, desperately trying to keep your voice firm. He looked down at you like a lost puppy, all manner of sadness pooling in his eyes. He took in a deep breath, blinking to try and clear his eyes of tears.
"If that's what you need, it's yours."
"Thank you," you said, sighing and smiling softly before reaching up on your tip toes and giving his cheek one last kiss. "Goodbye Dean." He stared down at you, a sad half smile on his face as you shut the door. You pressed your back against it and slide down to the floor, tears starting to fall from your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. You tried to steady your breathing. "It's okay," you whispered to yourself. "You did the right thing." But even though you told yourself this, you weren't sure if it was the truth or not.