Multifandom Oneshots (II)

Dean Winchester x Reader

You sit in the bunker, tied to a chair. Babysitter of the year award.
You lose track of time. It feels like forever, but it probably hasn't actually been that long. You were supposed to stay and babysit Crowley, but that backstabbing little bitch tied you up and left. So here you are, sitting and waiting for Sam, Dean, and Mary to come back, hopefully with Cas and Lucifer's kid. You hope they have Crowley too, so you can kick his ass.
Sam and Dean make it look so easy to get out of ropes. Turns out it's harder than it looks.
Eventually Sam and Dean come back with a teenage boy behind them.
"Babe?" Dean calls as he turns on the light. "You let Crowley get out. How--" He pauses when he sees you. "What the hell?"
"How's the kid?" You ask quickly. "And Cas? And your mom? Where the hell's Crowley?"
Sam points at the teenager. "Kid."
You raise your eyebrows. "Um... are you... sure?"
They didn't answer your other questions, and you know that can't be a good sign.
Dean unties you, then goes to the kitchen without another word.
You raise your eyebrows at Sam.
"Crowley's dead. Mom's in some post-apocalyptic dimension with Lucifer. Cas... Cas is dead. And Dean's been kind of moody."
"What?" You ask quietly, swallowing hard. "Oh my God."
The kid looks at you. "I read about him."
"What?" You repeat.
Sam puts his hand on the kid's shoulder. "This is Jack."
I swallowed hard. "Jack?" I pointed at the kid. "That's Jack?"
Cas was dead? Crowley was dead? Mary was gone?
"This is Jack. Jack, this is Y/N."
"Hello." Jack says.
You put a smile on. "Hi. It's nice to meet you." You give Sam a wary look, but he nods.
"Y/N." Dean calls. "A word."
You excuse yourself and join him in the kitchen. "Sorry I let Crowley get out."
"It's fine. He made himself useful."
"He died." You say, your voice cracking. You're going to cry, and Dean knows it.
"Please don't." He sighs. "Come here."
"Dean..." You say, not moving into his arms. "Cas--"
"No."
"Your mom--"
"Stop."
You sigh. "Dean, sweetie--"
"Y/N. Stop. We need to talk about the kid."
You lean against the counter. "Talk."
"He's Lucifer's kid. He's evil."
"He doesn't seem evil."
Dean sighs. "What don't you understand about 'He's Lucifer's kid'? He's evil, Y/N. I don't care how cute you think he is, and I don't care how much Sam says he's not evil. He's evil. You need to watch out. Got it?"
"He's a kid, Dean. Kids aren't evil."
"He's evil. Keep your distance and don't get attached."
"Dean, you haven't even been here five minutes and you're being an ass. I know you're upset about Cas and your mom, but--"
"Stop. I told you to stop."
"I'm so tired of your shit, Dean." You snap. "This is ridiculous."
"Maybe, but this is how it is. So get on board or get over it."
You flick him off and go back to join Sam and Jack.
"He saved our asses." Sam says quietly to you. "He's not evil, so ignore whatever Dean says about that. He's a kid. I think that if we can keep him around good stuff, he can turn out okay."
"That's gonna be pretty damn hard with your brother around."
"You're telling me." Sam sighs. "He's just upset."
"I know. But so's everyone else, and nobody but him is being a total ass."
"Yeah, well. He's Dean."
That night, after Jack goes to his room, Sam fills you in on what you missed while Dean sits beside you, looking angry. You being on Sam's side doesn't help matters at all.
When he leaves, Sam looks at you. "This is your turn. If you can't talk sense into him, nobody can. No pressure or anything, but if we don't get him on board, this can go really, really wrong."
He's right, of course, so you get up and follow Dean. You go down the hall to find him in the bathroom with the kid, holding a bloody knife.
"If I'm right, I'll be the one to kill you." Dean's saying. "And I won't think twice about it."
You twist his arm behind his back until he drops the knife.
"Y/N, what the hell?" Dean yells, twisting out of your grip.
"Go, Dean." You snap, pointing at the door. "Get out. Now. Get the hell out of here. What is wrong with you?"
"You wanna know what's wrong?" He snaps. "Everything! Everything is wrong. Cas is dead, Mom's gone, and Satan's kid is standing in the bathroom, stabbing himself. What part of that isn't wrong? Get out of here. Stay away from him."
"You get out of here, Dean. Get out now." You drop your voice down to a normal volume. "So help me God, if you don't walk out that door right this instant."
He grabs his beer off the sink and walks out.
You take a breath and turn to Jack. "Are you okay, sweetie? Did he... Did he hurt you?"
"No." Jack says, calmly. "You shouldn't be angry. He's not wrong."
"What isn't he wrong about?"
"Me. I might not be worth saving. I don't know what I am, but I don't... think I can control it. Did you know my mother?"
"Not very well."
"You remind me of her. I like you."
You smile a little bit. "Well, I'm glad. And Jack? Your mother would think you were worth saving."
"Do you?" He tilts his head to the side.
"I do."
"Do you think I can be?"
"I do."
"Dean doesn't."
"Yeah, maybe not." You sigh. "We're gonna try to fix that."
"You're angry with him."
"I am. But I usually am, and it always gets solved. Come on, now. I'll take you to your room."
He follows you out, and you take him to his room.
"You should get some sleep. And honey? Maybe you shouldn't stab yourself." You say when you get there.
"But it doesn't hurt. And it gets fixed." He shows you his shirt and his chest as evidence. "See?"
"I do see. But it's... not good. So maybe don't do that."
He nods. "Okay. I won't."
"Sleep well, okay?" You smile a bit.
You consider going to find Dean, but the idea of just looking at him makes you see red, so you go to your room instead. You sit down on your bed and look at the floor. Cas and Crowley were dead. Like, really dead. How could that happen?
There's a knock on your door after a while. You assume it's Sam or Jack, so you wipe your eyes and call for them to come in, but it's Dean who opens the door.
"If you so much as step foot in this room, I'll punch you." You snap.
"Can we talk?" He asks, stepping in.
"I'll fucking punch you, Dean Winchester. Get the hell out of my room. I don't want to talk to you. I don't even want to look at you." You stand up and face him.
"Can we please talk, baby?" He closes the door.
"If you touch me, Dean Winchester." You snap as he comes towards you. "Don't you dare touch me."
He takes your hand, so you slug him as hard as you can.
"I said not to touch me! I said not to come in here!" You whisper yelled. You didn't want the kid to hear you arguing. "Don't touch me!"
He drops your hand and touches his cheek where you'd punched him. He looks confused, like he didn't think you'd actually do it. "What the hell just happened?" He asks.
"I hit you like I fucking said I would. Get out of here, Dean. I don't want to talk to you."
"I wanna talk to you. Please, babe."
"No! No, Dean."
"Why are you mad?"
"Why am I mad? You just threatened a kid! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"He's not a kid! He's Satan's offspring!"
"He's a kid! He's a scared kid. He doesn't know who he is or what's going on. He's in a strange place. He's an orphan. And now there's some scary ass man cornering him in the bathroom and threatening his life, telling him there's no fucking hope for him. What the hell is wrong with you, Dean?"
"What's wrong with me? He's Satan's offspring. Do you even hear yourself?"
"Get out of my room. Get the hell out of my room."
He sighs and runs a hand over his face. When he looks at you again, his eyes are wet. "I need you, babe. Please let me stay. I really need you."
"You better get used to not having me around every time you're the slightest bit upset, because if you keep this up, you won't have anybody to turn to."
"What does that mean?"
"It means to get the fuck away from me. I can't do this, Dean. I really can't."
"Can't do what?" He snaps, his voice cold and rough.
"I can't. I just can't. Get out of here. Now. Get out."
"Please, baby." He says quietly.
"Don't call me that. Get out. Get the hell out of here."
He leaves after a second. You feel kind of bad about how you'd acted. His best friend was dead, and his mom was probably dead too. But had he expected any different? He was in there telling a kid he'd kill him without hesitation. Did he really expect you to want to comfort him?
You change into pajamas and get in bed, but you can't sleep.
Your mom had always said never to go to bed angry. You've never been this angry at anybody.
Eventually, you get up and go to Dean's room. He's sitting on his bed, eyes closed, headphones on. He has a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hands.
You sit down on the edge of the bed and pull the bottle from his hands, setting it on the dresser. He jerks his hand and snaps his eyes open.
Usually he relaxes when you wake him and he sees it's you, but this time he tenses up more and sits up straight, pulling the headphones off of his ears and dropping them around his neck. He looks at you and doesn't say a word.
You take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Dean." You hope that saying it out loud will make you actually mean it, but it doesn't. You still want to punch him again--but not just a normal punch. You want a Hulk level punch.
He doesn't say anything, just grabs the bottle of whiskey from the table and finishes it. He doesn't even look at you.
"I was really insensitive. I know you're grieving and I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through. But that's doesn't excuse threatening Jack. We both know there's no such thing as being innately good or bad. Cas thought he could be good. He was going to raise him. The least you can do for him is take care of that kid."
"Please shut up." He sighs, his voice gruff and a little slurred.
"This has to be talked about, Dean."
"Are you mad at me?" He sounds tired.
"Yes."
"Please stop."
"I'm not asking for much, Dean. All I'm asking is for you to be a little nice to a kid."
"I don't want to talk about this now." He sits up and opens the drawer on the night stand, pulling out a partially drunk bottle of whiskey. "Please leave."
You pull it from his hands and put it away. "We're talking about it now."
"I'd much rather get trashed."
"Too damn bad."
"Are you too mad to kiss me?"
"Yes." You say, even though you aren't really that mad anymore. He looks and sounds absolutely pitiful.
"What about angry sex?"
You resist the urge to laugh and try to glare.
"I figured." He leaned back. "I'm going to bed. Turn off the light when you leave."
You kiss his forehead. "Are you okay?"
"No. Come here."
You move to sit beside him, wrapping your arms around him. "I'm sorry, sweetie."
"Stay here."
"Fine, but I'm getting under the covers. It's cold. Go turn off the light."
He gets up to turn off the light while you pull back the covers. He gets into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and putting his face in your hair.
"I know I'm an asshole. I'm sorry." He says quietly.
"Just try to be good to the kid, okay?"
"Yeah. Okay."