Selfless // Dean Winchester

27. Do You Hate Me?

When she got back to the inn, Y/N resolved to head straight for her room, not bothering to let the boys know she was back. She wasn't in the mood for stiff conversations or hateful stares. However, the person she least wanted to interact with came into view as she crossed through the lobby.

Sam sat on a bench against the wall to her right, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His expression could only be described as glum. Y/N wondered what he and Dean had talked about after she left, but she only hurried to the elevator, hoping Sam hadn't seen her. This inn was a lot classier than the motels they usually stayed at, but it was the cheapest one in town. Of course, Dean complained about the price nonstop, but Y/N ignored him and enjoyed her spare time. She knew she wouldn't be enjoying anything from now on, with the weight of finding a solution on her shoulders.

Soon, in the safety of her bed, she began to cry. It began as sniffling and the occasional whimper, but soon turned to breathless sobs. She lay on her side, clutching the sheet, ignoring the tears staining the pillow.

Y/N barely heard the knock on her door. She sat up, hurriedly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat. "Who is it?"

"It's Dean," came his muffled voice.

She hesitated before reaching for the knob, trying to regain composure and her "I don't care" attitude. "What's up?"she said when she opened the door.

"I heard something going on in here," he said, glancing past her into the room. He wore a black tee and jeans. Y/N would have made a flippant remark about how scandalous it was for a Winchester to wear so few layers if she weren't so emotional.

"It's nothing," she reassured him, hoping he'd ignore the quiver in her voice. The tears were welling in her eyes again, the lump in her throat hurt like hell, and she couldn't get Bela off her mind. She felt as though she couldn't breathe.

"Y/N," said Dean. His tone was much softer. "Are you okay?"

She nodded wordlessly. A part of her wanted to say no and start explaining everything, but he wasn't her therapist. And he hated Bela. He'd be glad to hear of her inevitable death.

"No, you're not," Dean said, surveying her red eyes, and her heart crumbled. Y/N stifled a sob and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his chest, half-expecting him to push her away.

It took a few seconds, but he slowly put his arms around her and held her close. He rested his chin on the top of her head and began to stroke her hair while she sobbed into his shirt. They stood like that for what felt like ages. Y/N hadn't touched someone in a purely affectionate way since she left her home. The heat of someone's body, the beating of their heart. This was something she missed fiercely.

As her hyperventilating slowed and the sobs became less frequent, Dean gently placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away to look into her eyes. "What's going on?"

Should she tell him, or would that be betraying her friend? Hell, she just broke down in Dean Winchester's arms- she needed to give him a good reason. "I can't tell you," she whispered, unsure of how he would take it. Dean was an understanding person once you really got to know him, but how well did she know him?

"It's okay," he murmured.

She blinked and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and attempted to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I'm sorry, that was- embarrassing and...I'll let you go n-"

Dean lifted his hand and lightly ran his thumb over her bottom lip, causing her words to trail off. "I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to, sweetheart."

She inhaled deeply and smiled with gratitude.

They found themselves on the bed, Dean sitting up against the headboard with his left arm around Y/N, who lay her head on his chest. The only light came from the nightstand lamp.

Presently, she said, "I'm sorry for dragging you into this," and earned no response. He only took her left hand in his right and intertwined their fingers. It helped distract Y/N from the Bela issue. They sat in silence for a while longer.

"Sam hates me now, doesn't he?" She changed the subject.

"He doesn't hate you," replied Dean in an uncertain tone, tracing circles on her palm. "He'll come around."

"Have you come around? Do you hate me?"

He stopped moving his hand. "No."

"But you haven't forgiven me for what I did to John." Why am I saying things that could make him push me away?

"No."

"I don't expect you to," said Y/N. "Ever. Y'know, I don't blame Sam for his opinion of me. I brought that on myself. There are some pretty terrible things I've done in the past, but I won't make excuses or beg for forgiveness. Telling people why I did those things is different; it's trying to make them understand, not let me off the hook." She paused and chuckled softly.

"What?" asked Dean.

"That's probably the most straightforward I've ever been with a man." She shifted her shoulders and sat up, turning toward him. "What about you, Winchester? It's unfair to give you all this crap about me. Anything you want to talk about?" Behind her words was a plea, another unspoken message begging him to open up to her on what he really felt about going to Hell.

He picked up her hand again. "We don't have to talk about me."

"You love talking about you."

Dean grinned. There was something about that smile of his Y/N would never see in anyone else. But as always, his eyes gave away his fear of the future he tried to hide behind his easy-going demeanor. There was something else there, too, and for a split second, she thought he might kiss her. She hoped he wouldn't. Instead, Dean tugged her back to lay against his chest.

That night, she grew to care for him nearly twice as much as before.

When she woke up in the morning, she was alone.

(I loooooved writing this one. Jsyk, i might not post for a few days after this cause my writer's block is at it again)