-Supernatural One Shots, Imagines, and Preferences-

I Killed Her - Dean x reader

Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've been at camp.

Dean had been a drinker for most of his life. He knew how to have a good time, but when he drank too much, things got out of hand. He was unpredictable. Sometimes he would be a loving, happy drunk. Sometimes he got very violent. Sometimes both in one night, usually the first before the latter.

"(Y/N), let's go out for drinks! We should celebrate. This hunt went perfectly," Dean smiled, nodding to his brother.

"I'm good. You guys should spend some time together. It's been a while since you guys have gotten to hang out without me. I'll go hang out in our hotel room."

"Sammy, we'll try not to be too loud tonight," Dean smirked, winking at me.

"You need booze. Let's go," Sam rolled his eyes, dragging Dean along with him.

"I guess I'll just–" the door slammed shut. "Wait here then," I sighed. This was going to be a long night. I grabbed my laptop and caught up on my shows on Netflix.

I'd made it through three episodes before Dean slammed our motel room door. He had a weird smile on his face. He walked toward me holding the demon knife.

"I know what you are," Dean smiled, looking almost evil.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"I know what you are, dammit," he growled. His hand with the knife flew toward me. I ducked out of the way, but the knife nicked my arm. 

"Ah," I hissed. "What the hell, Dean?!"

"I knew it!" He shouted. He lunged at me again, but this time I rolled out of the way and he landed at my feet. "Get back here!"

"Dean? What are you talking about? I'm me! I'm me!" He chased after me with his knife until he had me cornered in the bathroom.

"Get out of her," he growled at me. "Get out of her now. Don't think I won't stab her. It's my job to kill sons a' bitches like you and I won't hesitate."

"Dean," I yelled, slapping him. "What the hell has gotten into you? I'm me! What's wrong with you?"

"Your eyes are black right now, you son of a bitch," he growled, holding me by my throat, cutting off my air supply. "Are you doing this to torture me? You know I love her. Let her go! Let her go!"

I clawed at his hand, trying to get him to drop me. He had me off the ground by a bit, pressed up against the wall. He applied more pressure as he continued to scream at me.

"Let her go! Let her go!" He cried, alcohol evident on his breath. My vision went black and my heart slowed. He didn't take note of any of this because he was busy taking out his anger on some imaginary demon. And then my heart stopped.

"Let her go!" He screamed again. "I love her. I can't lose her!" Then something clicked in his brain and he realized that my body wasn't receiving any oxygen, so he dropped me. My body was still. Cold.

"(Y/N)," he breathed. "No, no, no, no..."

He wrapped his arms around me and pressed my body into his. He could feel that I wasn't breathing. He could feel that my heart had stopped. He attempted some drunken version of CPR but it was too late. He held my body in his arms and cried over me.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Dean, open the door, I forgot my key," Sam shouted from the other side. "I think I left it in your room. Dean! Dean?"

Sam heard crying through the door and he recognized that it was Dean's. Sam picked the lock to the room as quickly as he could and forced his way into the room. He saw his brother Dean on the floor, holding my body.

"Dean? Dean! What happened?" Sam asked, starting to panic. His breathing sped up.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault," he whimpered.

"What's your fault? What's going on, Dean?" Sam asked angrily. "Is she... is she..."

"Yes, dammit. She's dead! And it's all my fucking fault!"

"Dean, you know that witch has been playing tricks on our minds. This isn't your fault, and we'll bring her back. We'll find a way. We can make this work–"

"Sam you don't understand!" Dean shouted. "I killed her. Sammy, I love her and I killed her. If we can bring her back, do you know how much she'll hate me? I'm such an idiot! I can't believe she's stayed by me this long."

"Dean, you'll be okay. We can fix this–"

"Are you not listening to me, Sammy?" He hissed. "We can't fix this. We can't make this better. I've done something I can't take back. I killed a person. I killed (Y/N). And she'll never forgive me. And she must hate me."

"Dean, listen to me. We'll solve this. It's what we do. We need to do something about her though. We need somewhere to put her while we figure this out. She'll fit in the trunk, right–"

"No."

"Dean–"

"Sam, I said no. We need to burn her. We need to give her a proper ceremony–"

"Yes, and," Sam cut him off. "By saving her body in the trunk, we can give her a proper burning back home. We can invite other hunters to a little receiving of friends type deal. In memory of (Y/N). She would want us to take her home at least. She told me while we were on that Wendigo hunt that wasn't looking good, she told me she wanted her ashes spread in the forest behind her home in that town by Lebanon. She told me if she died and I made it, that's how she wanted it to be, and as much as you may want to protest, that was her dying wish."

Dean remained silent, tears still steaming. He turned his head away from Sam and away from my body. He growled out in frustration before getting off of his knees and walking toward the door.

"Dean—" Sam growled out, but he was cut off by the slam of the motel door. Dean didn't come back to the motel that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is my worst one yet. Better keep em coming.

Make frickin REQUESTS.