With a sigh, you collapse at your desk, an old roll-top the boys had drug into your room from the library. Easing open one of the old drawers, you pull out a soft leather journal, your initials stamped into the bottom right corner. Just like Sam and Dean, you had your hunting journal, but sometimes you just needed to write out how tired or lost or frustrated or whatever you felt. You'd long ago learned that the word "feelings" was more a curse word to the Winchesters than any four-letter word. Besides, your mom had bought you the book just before she'd died, and somehow writing in it made you feel like you were still with her, like she was close.
Flipping to the very beginning, a wrinkled page frowns up at you, tears having warped the page and melted the words.
I came home a couple days ago to visit Mom. It was a surprise. She was alone, lying on the ground. She looked so small and lonely. She's never looked small before. Blood was everywhere, rushing from her head. Two days later these two guys showed up, claiming to be Federal agents, asking if she had enemies or if I'd seen any weirdos following her. That night something came and attacked me. The guys showed up, the agents, and killed whatever it was. They called it a Kitsune, said it ate some part of the brain. They told me to go back to school, forget about it, move on. I couldn't. It had always been me and Mom, Mom and me, and now it's just me. What am I supposed to do?
You hadn't let it go- who could? You hadn't waited for the police or anything. You'd followed them back to their motel. And the rest is history. But that was years ago, back when senior finals were important and you were waiting on a job offer and life was easy. People had died, monsters been ganked, world been saved. And you. You were new. You were… well, your mom would have been proud to see you now.
Turning back to an empty page, you pour out the last case- a couple of ghouls attacking a family. After devouring a teen girl's parents, the ghouls had taken the shape of her mom and dad and fed from her from days. You'd been too late- you'd gotten the ghouls but couldn't save the girl.
Emotionally drained and physically exhausted, you slump over your desk, using the journal as a pillow. Within minutes you're asleep.
It's one in the morning when you stumble out of your room, stomach raging for food. Yawning, you find your way to the kitchen to grab a soda. Glancing over to the counter, a grilled cheese sat cold on a plate next to the stove, "Y/N" scrawled on a sticky note attached to it. You smile as you toss it into the microwave, already mentally thanking Sam for leaving out dinner.
You're on your way back to your room when you see a light on in the billiards room; you'd happened upon it a couple months ago, and it quickly became your favorite room. Quiet music drifts from the hallway, pulling you along. Part of you already knows it's Dean, but you deny that's why you're following the sound. Some things are so impossible it hurts too much to believe in them, like the idea of you and Dean. You were practically his little sister, and even if in some alternate universe he did feel the same way you felt, you always feared it would hurt the dynamic of your threesome.
Leaning in the open doorway, you watch with a small smile as Dean moves smoothly between the two pool tables. You thought he'd be playing one-man pool, but here he is, dancing. His back is to you as he moves gracefully to the beat of "Danger Zone", swinging his hips to the music. The song slowly ended, and you can't resist clapping. Startled, he whips around.
"Y/N. I was... uh…" He mumbles through his embarrassment.
"Dancing," you fill in, smiling.
"Don't tell Sam."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
He moved closer to you. "That was a rough case." His voice is soft, hurting.
"Yeah. Really rough."
After another pause, "Take My Breath Away" starts, Terri Nunn filling the room. Dean's watching you, his proudful smirk twisting his mouth up. "You're welcome for dinner."
"This was you?"
He nods thoughtfully, then takes your hand, pulling you into the room. He holds your hips as you wrap your arms tentatively around his neck, swaying to the beat.
"What is this, your Top Gun playlist?" You whisper.
He smiles, his eyes shining down at you. "Yes."
"Okay. I like it." You bite your lip, feeling some mix of nerves and excitement. You look anywhere but him, self-consciously thinking of your unbrushed hair and probably bad breath.
"Y/N." Dean's voice is low, deep and passionate. Hooking a finger under your chin, he urges you to look at him. "I've always loved your eyes. Perfect."
You bite your lip, looking back into his. "Thank you for dinner."
He shakes his head, still smiling a little. "You really want to kiss me right now."
"I've really wanted to kiss you for a very long time."
"Yeah, me too, sweetheart."
***Hope you guys like! I'm sorry- I've been a sloth when it comes to posting. Instead of whole chapters, I'm going to try and do a one-shot every couple of weeks and work on longer, more detailed chapters for y'all. So more time between chapters, but some one-shots which I'm stoked about.***