Author: Lauren.
Rating: Rated M, just in case I continue and it gets saucy (:
Character/Pairing: Haley, Dean, Sam, Dean/Haley
Summary: Trying to live a stable life isn't exactly easy when you have a hunter for a husband. Especially when he's Dean.
Disclaimer: Haley belongs to Mark, Sam and Dean are all Eric's. Storylines are mine.
Author's Note: Thought I'd try out a Dean POV for once. Let me know how you feel about it.
The distance between them hurt like an open wound, but he'd survive. He always did. He'd muddle through until he was back there with them. It was the simple things he missed the most, the things that made him hate seeing other families, because he knew he could never have that. The movie nights and dinners with friends and parent teacher meetings. All of the things he never even thought he wanted.
Twisting the band of metal around and around his finger, he stared down at it. On the days when it felt like the misery would swallow him up, it was his lifeline to her. And to Jamie. God he missed that kid.
When he dreamed about another world where their situation was different, his life always revolved around his family. Sam and Haley and Jamie. That was how it was supposed to be. Meant to be, if it wasn't for their curse. And although she'd never admit it, he knew Haley sometimes regretted becoming involved with him in the first place. With them it had never been a conscious choice. Despite her telling him over and over that this was what she wanted, he still felt guilt seeping through him. Dean didn't, had never, done relationships. Ever. His own dysfunctional family was about as close as he got to one and seeing the way Jess's death had destroyed Sam… No, he'd sworn never to open himself up to that.
But she'd been so beautiful in the late Autumn sunshine, with her hair illuminated around her head as if she'd just stepped down from Heaven. And her lips. And the way her body seemed to fit perfectly against his, as if they were made for each other.
He didn't know what hurt worse, the leaving or the coming back. Because with every return he knew there'd be another departure. But from the moment he stepped back through the door, he could almost pretend it wasn't going to happen, that this was it, this was who he was. Husband and Father and Dean Winchester. Not hunter, not killer, not murderer. But then he'd read a paper and see a news report and know that they'd have to go. And it'd be goodbyes and promises and hands squeezed and let go of. And her face, watching from their bedroom window until he was gone from sight. And even then she'd stand there, just waiting, just making sure.
The worst times were when they spoke to families on the way. Interviewing them about something or other, whatever, it didn't matter. He'd feel black anger pulsing through him as he watched them take their lives for granted. As they dropped off their kids at school and made dinner and went bowling. God he hated them, for having everything he could only dream about.
So he'd keep staring at the road and waiting for the sign to read Tree Hill and watching out for his front door. His home. Because when you're killing wendigos and exorcising demons, sometimes it's the simple things that keep you sane.