Supernatural oneshots and Imagines

These sores in my mouth *TEASER*

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst, some swear words.

Summary: Just some aftermath angst after Dean gets the mark of Cain against the reader's will, and  he begins to drift himself away from her, making her wonder where their relationship lies and making her take matters into her own hands; something she'll soon regret.

A/N: So this is just a teaser for you guys to see what I've been working on for you. I hope you like it and it will sike you guys up for the entire imagine.

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Bringing the bottle of whiskey to your chapped and dry lips, you drew a long and sloppy sip from it's brink ,making it drizzle down your chin and onto your neck. You clenched your jaw at the bitter taste on your tongue. Bourbon was never your first choice, but in desperate times, it seemed like the only friend to drown your sorrows in on a lonely and bitingly cold Tuesday night stuck with your thoughts and the boisterous sounds of a storm going on outside. You dragged a hand across your chin lazily, wiping away any remnants of alcohol on your skin before bending over the ledge of your bed and resting the bottle on the floor by some used tissues and candy wrappers. You pushed yourself back up to your pillows having tucked it away, and with a dreary mind now fogged with alcohol and tear stained eyes, turned to the raven black answering machine sat on your nightstand, the mere sight of it making your head spin. The last thing you wanted to do was touch the thing, and you swore you would restrain from it over the past months you moved to Chicago out of fear of what awaited you, but that's what the drinks were for tonight, aside burying your problems; building up your courage to do the unspeakable and petrifying thing you had been avoiding for so long.

You stretched out a trembling and limp arm towards the device and pressed play. The voice that sounded through the speakers was strangled and distraught as it spoke.

"It's been three days kiddo, you've gotta come back home now...we haven't heard from you since you left and Sammy and I are starting to get worried."

The sound made your heart ache even more than before, and you allowed yourself to shut your eyes in hope that it would ease the pain. Obviously it didn't, but it still made you feel somewhat in control of the emotions boiling in your stomach you'd normally let spill out. This was your way of reminding yourself that you could handle the situation, and so far, it was going as good as it could be considering your state of intoxication.

It was like a knife undoing stitches of the memories you had left behind in Nebraska when you'd left. His voice was still the same as you'd remembered: filled with pain and distraught. Guilt. The usual cocktail of trauma, and it only made listening to the messages building up on your answering machine over the months harder. Each was more and more heartbreaking than the previous, and not thinking you could go through them the rest of night, you reached down your bed and retrieved the bourbon, taking a swig as the messages continued to roll.

"Y/N, c'mon, this isn't funny! Answer the damn phone or I'm coming after you...It's been a week."

"I'm not gonna feel guilty for what happened, because you won't even let me give you an explanation, so here's how it's gonna go; you're either gonna haul your ass back here to the bunker or Cas and I are coming after you, I'm serious. It's been three damn weeks.".

"Answer your damn calls, what did you forget how to use a phone?"

"Y/N, pick up."

"I'm not surprised you didn't even leave a note or anything. Just got up and left just before we could find you. Typical...You run away from everything, and everyone and settle in some shitty low budget apartments downtown with leaking pipes...Pick up the damn phone Y/N...Please."

"Y/N sweetheart,it's been one and a half months, Sam and I are getting worried. Call me, please...I need to know that you're okay. This is bigger than us now- I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"If your plan is to scare the living Christ out of me by disappearing for two months without any contact or even a postcard then it's working great because I'm worried shitless Y/N. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to kill us?"

"Y/N, please pick up...We need to talk. I-I'm sorry. It's me Dean."

"It's Dean-again. Call me."

"It's been almost three months and still no call. Huh, no surprise there...Sammy said that you changed your cell to avoid keeping contact with us bu me being the genius I am know that you keep the same number on all your phones you purchase- 555 308 9- because of how long you take to memorize a new one...I swear to God Y/N, you can't trust you with scissors even..But anyway, that's obviously not why I called. You know why. Please, Y/N, come back."

You bit back the tears springing to your eyes as Dean's torn and strained voice echoed in your head.

"Please, come back." you hoarsely whispered against the rim of the bottle before taking another sip and coughing from the burn down your throat.

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