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Tired

Dean Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: After a long, hellish hunt, you sit in your room, exhausted, emotionally and physically, letting your inner Demons run rampant through your mind. Sam comes to comfort you.

Unloading your duffel bag onto the dresser across from your bed, you slam the door shut with your heel, relieved that you were finally alone at last. Your last hunt had gone horribly wrong, the family you had been trying to save, dying while you stood by, unable to help. Sam and Dean had both assured you it wasn't your fault, that you couldn't have done anything to save the Mom and her two young children, but the sight of their lifeless eyes would be burned into your memory for a long time.

Sighing, you changed into your comfiest pair of sleep pants, along with a ratted, old shirt of Sam's, one that had thought had gotten thrown away a long time ago. You needed the comfort of familiar clothes and smells, and if you couldn't actually cuddle with Sam, wearing his shirt that still held a hint of his smell was the next best thing.

Once you were dressed, your hair in a messy bun on top of your head, you fluffed your pillows up, leaning against the headboard, a book in your hands, ready for something, anything to distract you. You knew if you went into the main part of the bunker, you would find Dean settled into one of the library's many chairs, a crystal decanter on the table, a glass full of the amber liquid in his hands. He would welcome you to join him, but you needed to be alone. You needed time to yourself, time to let your thoughts float through your mind, thoughts that you would never share with any one else. How you thought you were never good enough, that innocent people had just died because of you. The words I hate myself, or I hate my life kept slipping past your lips, even though there was no one there to tell them to. These moods, as people called them, came often, your nightly companion.

You knew it wasn't healthy, keeping everything bottled up inside. You knew there were people out there who were willing to help you, Sam would invite you in with open arms, and while Dean was gruff and hid his problems just as well as you, he would still pour you a shot without asking. But it felt guilty and wrong to unload your problems on them. They were going through the same problems, if not more, and you didn't want to burden them with your issues on top of it. It was easier to sit alone in your room, tears forming in your eyes, and listen to the negative thoughts as they ran through your mind.

If they became too hard to handle, you would turn to your book, or whiskey, trying to drown them out, but that only worked for so long before they came back. Sleep would keep them at bay, as would the day when you were busy doing research, cleaning up after the messy boys, or actually participating in a hunt. But on the drive back you slowly felt yourself start to drift, sitting their in the backseat, your face covered in shadows, self doubt and sadness would creep in, and it took everything in your power to hold it in until you reached the bunker.

Rolling over onto your side, you held your pillow tight to your chest, needing something to hold onto, as the tears threatened to fall. Sniffing your nose, you tried to breathe deeply, trying to calm yourself down, knowing if you didn't, you would pay for it in the morning with puffy red eyes, dark circles underneath.

It was then you heard a tentative knock against your door. "Y/N, it's me Sam. Can I come in?" His soft, melodic voice said from the other side of the thick wooden door.

You quickly wiped underneath your eyes, trying to wipe away any tears that might have escaped, hoping your eyes weren't too red yet. Tossing the pillow back behind you, you hoped Sam wouldn't be staying long enough to noticed how emotionally exhausted you were.

"Come in." You said, your voice gravelly and hoarse from lack of use and the tears clogging it. The handle rattled for a moment before the door creaked open, and Sam's profile was seen in the crack. Seeing you sitting on your bed, he slipped in, gently shutting the door behind him, before standing beside the bed, looking awkward and out of place.