A Relationship Sealed with Whiskey and Tears

by SilverRyou13

When Rei runs away from another argument with Sam she decides she needs a drink...or six. But what is she supposed to do when the last person she expects shows up to comfort her...especially when he witnesses Rei at her weakest?

Title: A Relationship Sealed with Whiskey and Tears

Author: SilverRyou13

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: PG-13 for Alcohol Use and Language

Pairings: Mentionings of Sam/OC and Castiel/OC

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Original Character; First Person, possible spoilers for those who haven't seen up through Caged Heat (Season 6; Episode 10), possible OOCness

Summary: When Rei runs away from another argument with Sam she decides she needs a drink...or six. But what is she supposed to do when the last person she expects shows up to comfort her...especially when he witnesses Rei at her weakest?

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A/N: Meet Rei Wakahisa everyone! This is a character I have been thinking (and writing) about ever since I really got into the series. She's gone through a lot of changes, but has finally solidified into someone I know and love to write about. Hopefully you all will enjoy reading about her as much as I liked writing this. I also hope I captured Dean's character alright, because I don't feel as comfortable writing him ^^;

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The door slams shut behind me as I run out. Why does Sam have to be so infuriating?! Why doesn't he want his soul?! Without it, he'll never return to the way he was...never be the Sam I fell in love with. How can he want this?! Fighting back tears, I run down the walkway, taking the stairs two at a time down into the parking lot. My eyes are so blurry that I don't realize there's a person in front of me until I run into them.

A hand grabs my arm and I'm about to tell the person to mind their own damn business, when a familiar voice says, "Woah, Rei, what's wrong? Did something happen?" Dean looks down at me with an expression of surprise.

He's never seen me this upset, and under normal circumstances I would care. But right now I just need to get away, and not even the his opinion can stop me. With a frustrated growl I reply, "Go to your brother, Winchester, and get the hell out of my face!" Yanking myself out of his grip, I'm off before he can say another word. Running past my convertible, Akane - driving her when I'm this emotional definitely isn't a good idea. Turning the corner, I ignore the stares of passersby while wiping at my eyes so I don't plow into anyone else. All I want right now is to keep running, to escape from things I can't handle - to get away...from the man I used to know...and love...

Eventually my pace slows as an ache in my side forces me to stop and regain my bearings. I'm obviously still in town, but it's not an area I'm familiar with. There's a closed up record store in front of me, and across the street is a seedy-looking bar. The street lights are starting to come on in the setting sun, and, as if reading my mind, the bar's neon sign begins flashing. A drink sounds really good right now...actually, getting flat out drunk sounds even better. Plus, I left my jacket back at the motel, and it's starting to get cold.

The inside of the bar smells like most others I've been in - a mixture of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and body odor. I walk straight to the row of stools and grab a seat, pulling out my ID before the bartender can even ask to see it. "Gentleman Jack, and leave the bottle, please." I order, wanting to get drunk as fast as possible. Thanks to Bobby I've had this whiskey before, and while I don't like it as much as my normal poison, it's definitely what I need right now.

The moment the bottle is set down I pour as much of the amber liquid into the shot glass as I can and drink it back, letting the sweet and somewhat spicy oak taste wash over my tongue. Wincing a bit as it goes down, I sigh, waiting for the burn to fade before pouring another glass and shooting it back.

I'm about halfway through the bottle and already more buzzed than I've ever been when I hear the stool next to me move. "If you know what's good for you you'll leave me alone," I growl, hoping to scare off whoever it is.

An annoyingly familiar voice says, "Well, that's not very nice, Rei, and I came all this way to find you, too."

I glare over at the older Winchester brother. "The hell are you doing here, Winchester? I told you to leave me alone." I take another shot and hear Dean order a beer for himself.

"You've been missing for hours, thought something might of got you. Sam wasn't interested in coming, so here I am."

Which basically meant Sam didn't care. Figures. I take another shot, harder than the ones before to get the prick's face out of my mind.

"Wasn't hard to find you though, just had to ask around - gotta love small towns..."

"Winchester, if you can't keep a fucking lock on that damn hole of yours I swear to God I'll put one on it. Permanently!" I growl, giving the Hunter a sharp glare. Dean should know better than to annoy me while drunk. Doesn't he remember what happened while I was tipsy at Bobby's place that one time? You'd think he'd at least remember the pain...

Unfortunately, my threat actually seems to shut him up, as he simply shrugs his shoulders and takes a chug of his beer. I wish he'd kept talking - I could use a good punching bag right now. Instead, I settle for setting aside the shot glass and taking a full on drink from the bottle.

"Since when did you start drinking whiskey, anyway?" he asks, eyebrow raised.

I set the bottle down and sigh heavily. "Since none of your fucking business. And everyone wonders why I don't like you - prying into business that doesn't concern you...not to mention you're obnoxious, loud, and think you're the best thing to ever walk the Earth..."

"Alright, alright, I get it," he gripes, cutting me off mid-sentence. "You hate my guts - I get that. How could I not? But, you know, you could be a little nicer. Especially nowadays, since we're working together more often."

In response I give him the finger and a string of Japanese curses. He sighs and shakes his head while I take another swig of the whiskey. My eyes are starting to blur and I'm suddenly having a hard time sitting up straight. Trying to stay upright I sway slightly back and forth before finally giving up the fight. With a groan, I lean heavily against the closest thing I can find. Mind swimming, my only real thought is that whatever I'm leaning against smells kind of good...so I lean in and take a big whiff. There's a mixture of leather, maybe a light cologne, and something else...something familiar... "That smells really good...what is it...?" I manage to slur out.

The thing I'm leaning into gives a rumbling chuckle. "I think you've had enough, Rei." There's a hand on my shoulder. "Let's get you back to the hotel."

Slowly, it dawns on me that it's Dean's jacket I'm smelling. "Awww...but I wanna smell more... It smells great..." I take another deep sniff, hazily wondering why I never noticed how nice he smelled before. The elder Winchester chuckles again, and suddenly I'm surrounded by arms and warmth and that same wonderful scent. When the chair disappears from under me, I don't really mind, but as the room begins to spin I screw my eyes shut tight to block out the flashing lights and the nausea they bring. Suddenly it gets colder...must be outside...I shiver and curl up a bit more, pressing my face into the scented warmth I'm wrapped in. There are vague sounds before I'm finally set down and the sensation of a strap presses into my chest. It's not as warm now...and I miss it. More sounds, then a strange humming vibration, finally a roar - hmm...must be in a car. My head lolls onto my shoulder, bobbing slightly to the music coming from the radio.

The ride feels short, but I'm in and out of consciousness, so it's hard to tell. Eventually, I'm swept up and out into the cold again. I'm beginning to get used to the smell of the jacket, but it's still good and somehow...comforting. Maybe that's why I can't stop myself from pressing my face against the source as I'm carried away from the car. For some reason I can't really explain, the sight of the Impala brings unexpected tears to my eyes. They trickle down my cheeks at first, but pretty soon I'm sobbing. It's probably my imagination...or the booze...but it suddenly feels like I'm being held tighter...We cross a threshold...then things get warm again. In a blur, I'm laid down on something cool and soft, but as that happens the jacket I've been clinging too oh so tightly is pulled gently out of my hands. I grope for it, looking up at Dean's blurred figure above me.

"Don' go...please..." I mumble, voice slurred by the alcohol...and my tears. He seems to look at me for a minute before saying something my mind won't let me understand. Then, to my hazy surprise, he settles himself beside me and, once again, I'm being held close to something comforting and warm; Dean's chest. My sobs increase and I feel him rubbing my back soothingly. We stay that way for a long time, and I continue to cry, until darkness finally takes me.

There's a roaring in my ears when I come to. Next thing I realize is the agonizing headache that's pounding through my brain. I groan and open one eye, happy that there aren't any lights on and the windows are heavily curtained. Slowly, I open my other eye and notice the glass of water on the bedside table.

'That wasn't there yesterday...' I think, looking at it cautiously. Discerning that it's just regular water, I gulp it down, the cool liquid feeling great on my sore throat.

As I set the glass back down I notice there's something draped over my shoulders. A leather jacket. A very familiar leather jacket. And lying on the floor by the bed is a set of male clothes. As all of this registers the roaring in my ears solidifies into the sound of a running shower. Clenching my fists, anger blocking out the pain in my head, I storm over to the bathroom and bang hard on the door.

"Dean Winchester, get your ass out here!" I yell, clutching the leather coat in one hand. I can hear the shower shut off and footsteps heading towards the door. It opens to reveal a soaking wet Dean with just a towel around his waist.

"Rei, you're awake..."

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" I cut him off, chucking the jacket at the Hunter forcefully enough that he almost drops his towel. "Why are you in my room?! And why is your...stuff scattered all over the floor?!" Scooping the clothing up in one quick movement, I shove the crumpled pile at him, adrenaline and anger making me forget my hangover for the moment.

"H-hey! You were the one who wanted me to stay!" He yells back, seemingly offended. But I don't care. All I know is that I woke up after a night of drinking to find myself curled up in Dean's jacket, with his clothes all over the floor.

"Get out! Get out of here right now!" I shout, yanking him out of the bathroom and shoving him towards the door.

"H-hey! I'm not even-"

"OUT!" I yell at the top of my lungs, reaching for the knife I always keep next to the bed. "Or I'll cut off something you really don't want to lose!"

My threat seems to scare him into action, as the Hunter hurriedly opens the door. Before stepping out he looks back at me with an unreadable expression - a mixture of sadness, understanding and...pity? Then the elder Winchester stalks out without another word. As Dean closes the door behind him, my adrenaline fades and I sink to the floor, head pounding in pain. Squeezing my eyes shut, I curl into a ball, feeling thoroughly confused and extremely angry. What did Dean and I do...?! Did we...? Could we have...? That thought makes my stomach churn and I'm suddenly unable to hold onto the bile that's rising in my throat. Grabbing for the trash can, I throw up until my stomach is completely empty. Afterwards, collapsing back onto the floor.

'Note to self...never drink almost a whole bottle of whiskey in one go...' I think, arms wrapped around my stomach and head between my knees. It's then that I realize I'm still in the clothes I was wearing the day before. Which means that unless I somehow got redressed then there was nothing...that bad...that happened last night. That reassuring, at least. I don't know how long I stay in my fetal position next to the trash can, but, judging by the subtle changing of light outside, it's most of the day. My headache disappears slowly, and with it fuzzy memories start to come back.

Dean...was worried about me. That fact stands out.

Dean came to find me at the bar, when it should've been Sam.

Dean brought me back to the hotel when I was completely plastered. He didn't have to. Hell if this had happened when we first met he probably would've left me there. It's what I would've done. Granted, I would've called Sam or Bobby to come get him, but I wouldn't have done it myself.

Thinking back, I realize how differently we've been treating each other recently. Sure we still have occasional spats, and the intense sarcasm is there, like usual. But...we're not really going after each other like we used to. As I consider this fact, the reason becomes obvious. Sam. It's because Sam isn't his normal self. I'm growing further from him...and somehow...closer to Dean?

And that's when I realize something else - I cried to him last night. More than that...he held me while I did. Why didn't he say anything about it? Sure...I kicked the guy out before he could say much of anything, but the old Dean would've given me hell for it...and he probably wouldn't have left so easily.

"Well, shit...now what should I do..." I mumble to myself. How can I face him again after showing that side of myself? I'm usually so careful with holding my emotions back, especially around him. The last thing I'd ever want is for Dean Winchester to see me at my weakest. But now that he has...I don't know what I should do.

Sighing, I sit up and being shaking the numbness out of my limbs. I've always been a better thinker while moving around, so, after the initial 'pins and needles' feeling fades, I stand and stretch. Looking down again at my clothes, I realize I've been in the same t-shirt and jeans for almost two days now - definitely time for a change.

Walking over to the dresser to grab some fresh clothes I notice my phone charging on top. My mind immediately clicks. Ronnie. She's known Dean longer than I have, and is far more used to him and his quirks. She's also been a real lifeline for me - always giving good advice in the past. I grab my phone off the charger and hit the speed dial for her number.

My friend's voice sounds both angry and tired as she answers. "Garth, I swear to god, if you call me one more time I'm going to block your number!"

My eyebrow immediately quirks up as I ask in curiosity and confusion, "Who the hell is Garth?"

"Rei? Is that you? Thank god! I've been manning the phones ALL morning, and could seriously use a break."

I grin into the receiver. "It's good to hear your voice...but you didn't answer my question - who's Garth?" When there's no answer on the other end except for a tired sigh, I ask teasingly, "Is there something I need to tell Cas?"

Ronnie chuckles darkly. "That would serve him right..."

I share her laugh, then say, "Seriously, this guy isn't giving you trouble, is he?"

There's another deep sigh, before my friend replies, "No...he's more of an annoyance than anything else. How 'bout you? Do you guys need help with something?"

Although I called to talk I now find myself unable to start...but I guess my silence speaks volumes to Ronnie. Her voice is a bit more serious as she asks, "Is it Sam, again?"

"Yes...and no," I reply, still unsure how to get to the real problem.

"I'm all ears, tell me what I can do to help."

Although I know Ronnie can't see me, I shrug my shoulders, feeling defeated. "I...don't know where to begin."

My friend chuckles. "Well, obviously...you begin at the beginning."

Rolling my eyes, I want to tell her to take this seriously...but she's right...the fight with Sam really is the best place to start. I almost can't talk about it - just the idea of Sam admitting he doesn't want his soul back makes me want to punch something! But the longer I talk, the easier the words come. More than once I hear Ronnie trying not to snicker at what happened with Dean...but I'm grateful she's giving me the chance to get through this without passing judgement. After I've told her everything - up to and including me kicking Dean out in only his towel - I fall back into silence, waiting for my friend's response.

The line is silent for a moment, then Ronnie whistles, long and low. "Wow...so...you actually let him see you crying?!" Another pause. When I don't say anything, she continues teasingly, "Who are you and what have you done with my friend?"

Groaning softly at my own weakness, I reply, "Why don't YOU go polish off half a bottle of Jack...then ask me that question again."

Ronnie chuckles. "I'll pass, thanks. Seriously, though, did you just call for a friendly ear or is there something I can do to help?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I ask, not understanding why she can't see the real problem here. "I need help with Dean!"

My friend seems honestly confused. "Help with Dean how, exactly? It's...just Dean..."

"But that's exactly the problem. He SAW me CRY! We...we...hugged!"

On the other end of the line, Ronnie is sniggering. "I love how you say that like it's a dirty word."

On some level, I can relate to the humor of this situation, but I need her to understand how serious this really is for me! I don't let just ANYONE see me at my weakest. And the fact that Dean has - the one person I NEVER wanted to see me like that - it's tearing me up inside! Ronnie stops laughing when she's realizes I've fallen silent.

"Okay...so...you're serious about this. Sorry...I didn't mean..."

"It's okay," I interrupt. "Just...tell me what to do. How can I face him after this?"

Ronnie sighs thoughtfully. "Okay...the important thing to remember here is that, whether he shows it or not, Dean is going through the same things with Sam that you are. Obviously, it's on a different level...but he still gets it." She takes a breath and then hesitates for a second, almost as if she's not sure how much more she should say. Before I can ask her why, she continues, "Maybe...maybe you should just accept last night for what it was...two people consoling each other over the loss of someone important to them..."

I snort sarcastically, "Yeah, that'll work...for about 10 seconds...then Dean'll decide to start rubbing it in my face."

"But that's just it," Ronnie argues. "I don't think he will...not about this...not about Sam. Do you honestly think he went looking for you just so he'd have some good blackmail? That's not the Dean I know. Sure, he's a jerk sometimes...but I've never seen him kick someone when they're down."

"Unless they're people he hates," I grumble under my breath.

My friend hears me and lets out a heavy sigh. "Rei...he doesn't hate you. I think he just automatically reacts to the general animosity you show him. Last night...when your defenses lowered...so did his. I think you finally got to see the real Dean. It also sounds like you might trust him more than you realize - subconsciously, at least. The problem you're dealing with right now is accepting that realization as fact."

I don't respond immediately, thinking back over the past few hunts. It's true...now that Sam doesn't seem to care whether I live or die, I've been relying a lot more on Dean. Because of that, my attitude towards him really has started to change...and now I realize that his has been doing the same. Could Ronnie be right? All this time, has he just been reacting to my emotions towards him...like a defense mechanism...?

My friend's voice pulls me from my jumbled thoughts. "Rei...are you still there?"

"Yeah...I'm just...It's a lot to think about...that's all"

Ronnie chuckles. "I knew that one day Dean would start to grow on you."

Sharing her laugh, I ask, "You mean like a fungus?"

There's a slight pause and then we both break out into giggles. Ronnie eventually takes a breath and says, "Seriously, though...why not just try talking to him? It'll probably weird the guy out a little bit at first, but...I think he'll get what you're trying to say."

"Maybe you're right...It can't hurt to try..."

Suddenly my friend lets out a frustrated groan. "Dammit! I've got an incoming call. If that's Garth again, I'm gonna...!"

I chuckle as Ronnie grumbles a variety of colorful obscenities under her breath. "Do you want some help with him? I could always show up on his doorstep and..."

"Thanks," she interrupts with an amused sigh. "But he's...mostly harmless. Besides, I think you've got enough on your plate. Just do me a favor and try to give Dean the benefit of the doubt, okay? Sam may not be capable of realizing it, but he needs both of you right now."

I find myself nodding, even though I know she can't see me. "Thank you, Ronnie...for talking this through with me. I just..."

"Hey, you don't have to say anything. I'm just happy I could help. So now all you have to do is hang up and go talk to Dean. Think you can handle that?"

I can tell from her tone that she's teasing me just a bit with that last question...but I don't mind so much now. "Y'know...I think I can," I tell her with a smile.

My friend gives me a few more words of encouragement and then I hang up the phone, feeling much better...and much more secure about what needs to be done next. Stretching, I open the dresser, grabbing a red and black tank top and a fresh pair of jeans before walking into the bathroom. As I freshen up, my mind wanders through various scenarios about how to approach Dean. He needs to understand that I just want to talk. The first part of the plan is to get him away from Sam. I'm still far too angry with my former boyfriend to deal with him right now. Not to mention it won't help having him there while I'm baring my soul to Dean...again. So, either Sam will have to leave...or Dean and I will. Then I remember the age-old saying, 'The best way to a man's heart is through his stomach', and it hits me. I'll ask if he wants to go get something to eat. Normally, I'd hate giving him the lead (except on occasional hunts) but I want to put him at ease...like Ronnie suggested...so when we go out, he can choose where we go...I'll even let him drive. If I want this to work, I have to go onto his turf, so to speak.

Satisfied with my decision, I finish brushing out my hair and grab my jacket from the chair by the door, putting it on in one smooth movement. Everything outside has been quiet...and I know I would've heard the Impala leave...so the brothers are definitely still around. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I walk out of my hotel room and step across to the one next door. Unfortunately, when I knock it's Sam who answers. Pent-up anger from the night before floods through me, but I fight it back, saying, "I need to talk to Dean."

He says nothing and steps out of the way, gesturing me inside. When I walk in, Dean is lounging on the bed watching TV...probably a Western since porn would have more...sound effects. He looks over as I lean against the short wall separating the kitchen area from the beds.

"You're not here to make good on your promise are you?" He asks, a slight edge of sarcasm in his voice. I can't help my light chuckle, but shake my head. "No, actually I came to see if you wanted to grab something to eat, my treat. I need to talk to you."

The surprise is almost visible on his face. "Are you serious?" I resist the urge to roll my eyes, nodding instead. "Yes, I am. You can pick the place, too." I could laugh at the look on his face now, but he quickly adjusts his expression and shrugs.

"Why not? I'm not one to turn down free food," he replies nonchalantly, standing up. I straighten as well and catch Sam's eyes. They're blank, like they always are now, and even through the anger, my heart jolts, missing how warm they used to be. Looking away, I head towards the door, hearing Dean say good-bye to Sam.

"You two have fun," the younger Winchester says in reply. Something about the way I hear him say 'fun' makes my chest clench and my blood boil. Is it possible he thinks Dean and I are...together? I know this Sam wouldn't care if we were, but just the idea of him thinking it makes me want to punch holes in the wall...and cry all at the same time. My fists clench and I'm about to turn on Sam when Dean's voice breaks through my anger.

"Can we take the Impala? I need to fill her up anyway."

I look over and notice that his expression doesn't match the question. He's looking at me the same way he did this morning. I nod, slowly unclenching my fists, reassuring him that I'm alright and answering his question at the same time. "Sure, I don't see why not, " I answer aloud before walking outside. When the door shuts behind me I take in a deep breath of the fresh air to calm down. I'm somehow not surprised when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"You sure you're OK?" Dean asks.

Turning to glance at him, I give a quick nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just...Sam." With a sigh, I shake my head, and Dean nods in understanding - there's no other explanation needed.

We walk down to the Impala and climb in. "So what are you in the mood for?" I ask him, buckling in and trying not to remember the similar situation from the night before.

"I saw a place that looked pretty good last night when I was out driving around," Dean answers as he starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot.

We ride mostly in silence, and though I want to say something, I don't know what that something should be. The streets outside look vaguely familiar; I probably tore past them when I was running from the motel last night. Looking down, I swallow then say quietly. "I'm sorry for this morning."

The car stops at a red light and Dean turns the music down a notch. He's quiet, and his face is unreadable from the side. "Don't worry about it. I figured you'd be angry. I shoulda left after you fell asleep," he says as the light finally changes. After a bit more driving, we pull into the parking lot of a small diner. Cutting the engine, he turns in his seat and looks at me. "I was worried when you didn't come back to the motel. I really was."

I look down at my hands, trying to avoid his gaze. "I just...needed to get out of there. Honestly, I...didn't think anyone would care."

"Rei," he says, and I glance up at him. The Hunter stares at me seriously, and suddenly I'm faced with the Dean Ronnie was talking about. The one who really does care. I'm about to say something when he cuts me off. "I know we've had our differences in the past. Believe me, I know, but you should know something. If you need to talk...I've got open ears too. Sam's different...and that's going to change as soon as I find a way...but it's going to be a long haul."

He pauses, as if he's thinking, then starts up again. "Maybe...you should hang back for the next hunt. Go hang out with Ronnie for a while. You've changed since you've been around this new Sam, and it's not for the better."

"Dean, I can't. Yes, Sam's...different but I can't leave him..." My thumb starts fiddling with the ring I always wear, the one Sam gave me for Valentine's Day two years ago. "I... I promised him I wouldn't, no matter what. So, I'm staying. I'll just have to avoid him more. It won't affect my hunting."

Dean releases a heavy sigh and shakes his head. "Stubborn as ever."

He gives me a quick grin, and I can't help but return it with one of my own as we get out of the Impala. "You know it."

Shutting the door behind me, we walk towards the diner's entrance, and I can't help feeling like something has changed...like a friendship sealed...or maybe more than that. 'Sealed with whiskey and tears' I think to myself, chuckling softly.

Dean raises his eyebrow at me and asks "What's so funny?"

"Nothing...nii-san." I smile back at him, amused by the confused look on his face as I walk into the diner.

"Wait...what the hell did you just call me?!"