Supernatural Short Stories

Fourteen Steps

Dean x Reader

Twenty-two steps from one corner of the wall to the next. Fourteen steps from the wall to the door. Eight cracked stones in the wall letting in the slightest bit of light, along with the winter breeze that sent goosebumps up and down your body.

Sixteen days. That's how long you had been stuck in this room, with only one small window towards the top of your cell letting you know if it was day or night. With one threadbare blanket to keep you warm on the bumpy cot, a small metal toilet the only other furniture in this hell hole.

The first few days you had been hopeful, knowing that Dean wouldn't rest until you were found and the Demons who had taken you were killed. But as you scratched another mark into the wall, your hopes fell to the stone floor below you, shattered.

The Demons didn't help much either. Each time they would show up, bringing your meager meal of the day, they would laugh in your face, reminding you that you had been forgotten by the Winchesters. That they had never cared about you to begin with. That you would spend Christmas in this tiny, cold room that was smaller than the bunker's bathroom, before they would finally put you out of your misery.

After the seventh day, you couldn't handle it anymore. As snow fell steadily down outside your small window, you cried out in frustration, your hands pounding mercilessly on the unforgiving stone wall. As blood poured down your shredded hands, you slid to the ground, tears pouring down your cheeks. "Dean, where are you?" You whispered, but you had a feeling you would never get out of this room. It was to be your tomb, the last place you would ever take a breath.

After that fateful day, you met each one the same. Moved methodically around your small room, pacing to keep your muscles as strong as you could, but you were numb. Your heart was no longer full of hope that Dean would come. It had resigned itself to your fate, knowing that nothing was going to change. Your mind kept itself busy counting, anything you could to keep yourself from going crazy. How many steps it took to cross the floor. How many stones before you reached the wall. Anything to keep hidden the fact that you weren't going to make it out of here alive.

Waking up on Day sixteen felt different. Your body was heavy, each movement a burden. It took twice as long to carve the new mark into the wall, and there was no energy left to even attempt to eat the moldy bread that was shoved your way. Knowing that this was it, this was the end of your life before the Demon's took it from you, you stood as close as you could to the window, staring at the clear night sky. No clouds to block your vision, no snow falling down to block your view of the vibrant stars.

As a child you had wished on the occasional star, giving up when it had never come true. But as a shooting star filled your small window, you had to give it one more shot. You wanted nothing more than to see Dean one more time. To let him hold you against his chest, to feel those plump lips against yours once again. You wanted to decorate the bunker for Christmas, to wake up to Dean's kisses on Christmas morning. You wanted to die saving people, not being bait for some stupid Demon's who couldn't even do that right.

"I don't know if I even know how to do this anymore." You whispered, your voice croaking from lack of use. "But I wish upon this star, hoping that my dream comes true. I wish that Dean comes to save me, or that I don't have to suffer any more. Please, let me see Dean one more time."

Blowing a kiss to the star, you sank down onto the cot, wrapping the blanket around your shivering shoulders. It was only days to Christmas, and you could feel the winter breeze blowing through the cracks. If the Demons didn't kill you, the cold certainly would.

Cuddling with your face to the wall, you tried to fall asleep. Sleep was your one escape. It was there you could dream about Dean, and the happy moments the two of you shared together. It's where you could pretend that you still had a future with Dean to look forward to.

Slowly the cold faded away, the stones faded until the creamy walls of the bunker came into view. Dean was laying on his bed, a huge smile on his face as he waited for you to join him. Smiling, you made your way to him, when a loud skirmish sounded outside the room.

"What's going on?" You asked him, wanting nothing more than to cuddle in his arms. "Whatever it is, make it stop!"

"I'm coming for you sweetie." He promised, before the bunker vanished and the cold stone wall was once again in front of you. But the sounds of the struggle sounded from outside your room, a loud groan before a thud against the wall. Tucking your knees underneath you, you stared at the thin line of light underneath the door, wondering if this was it. The Demons were coming to kill you.

The sounds outside stopped suddenly, the door creaking as a shoulder slammed into it. Dean's voice called out, and you wondered if you were still in a dream. Or if you had passed from this life. You had been here for sixteen days with no hope. There was no way that could be your Dean Winchester outside the door.

Finally, the wood gave in to the heavy pounding, cracking and falling to the floor. There stood Dean, his chest heaving, blood cascading down his temple, his eyes searching the room before landing on your huddled form in the corner. "Y/N?" He called out, stepping into the room, and yet you stared at him, wondering if this was another dream of yours.

Crossing the room in six steps instead of fourteen, he fell to his knees in front of you, his eyes searching your face frantically. "Y/N, please tell me you're okay. I'm sorry it took us so long, sweetheart."

"Dean, is that really you?" You whispered, reaching out and touching his cheek. The stubble poked your skin, the blood sticking on your finger, but it was real. He was real, and he was there. Your wish had come true. "I wished on a star for you to come."

"I'm here sweetheart." He promised you, sinking onto the cot and pulling you into his arms. Closing your eyes, you breathed in his familiar scent, letting it calm you.

"Dean, we need to go!" Sam yelled from the doorway, a smile on his face when he saw Dean's arms around you. Standing up, Dean took your hand. Guiding you the fourteen steps to the door, you stepped across the threshold, your entire body relaxing as you finally left that small prison behind.

Bodies of the Demons lay scattered around the hallway, and you carefully stepped over them, never letting go of Dean's hand. It wasn't until you were finally outside that you could finally take a deep breath. The clouds had moved in, snow lightly falling down onto Dean's precious car. Opening the back door, Dean helped you slide in, before closing you in.

Once the familiar rumble of the Impala vibrated your seat, it truly hit you. You were no longer in that prison. Dean had finally come, as you had always thought he would. "Dean." You started, his green eyes meeting yours in the rear-view mirror.

"Yeah sweetheart?" He asked.

"I wished upon a star. And you came." You whispered, awestruck.

He didn't have anything to say to that. Instead, he just smiled at you, and you could see the tension melting away from him as well. "Dean." You asked again.

"Yeah sweetheart." He answered the same, making you smile lightly.

"Can we decorate the bunker when we get home?" You asked him, needing some Christmas cheer. Something colorful after the blank gray walls.

"Of course. You're back safe and sound with me. I'd give you the moon if you'd ask." He admitted, not missing the crooked smile on his brothers face.

"Just a tree would be nice." You giggled slightly, the gray walls fading away, the fourteen steps between the wall and door no longer having as much meaning. You had decorating to look forward to. You had waking up on Christmas with Dean's arms wrapped around you to look forward to.