Accidents Happen

Endless Love

A/N: Okay, I know I said one more part, but the length of this is more than what I usually publish, so I'm gonna split it in two. Anyhow, I promise that now there is just one more part.

Word count: 2,627

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death.

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"Dean."

Your voice was a sweet whisper in his ear, filled with love and gentleness. It was the feeling of falling asleep on the couch and waking up with a blanket. It was smelling the coffee in the morning and knowing that there was already a cup perfectly made for him. It was inhaling the smell of your clothes when he hugged you. It was love. And it was the most painful pierce in his heart.

He didn't want to open his eyes to find the side next to him empty, as it had been for the past month. He didn't want to open his eyes and see that there was a frame missing from your bedside table. He didn't want to open his eyes because everytime he did it would only remind him that it was all real. You were gone.

Dean didn't like real.

So he kept his eyes closed, clutching to the fabric of the pillowcase next to him, your pillow, and pretending to still be asleep. Pretending that you were still next to him. But even he could only ignore the certain pull of the world for so long.

The sheets next to him were not perfectly straight, wrinkled a little by his small movements during the night. He was so used to having you, a light sleeper, in his arms that he'd gotten used to not moving very much. But that didn't matter anymore.

Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment, sighing heavily and turning his back to the empty space. He could feel his heart beating fast in his chest, each pump bringing blood to his body, and yet, Dean felt numb.

One week had passed since the last time you called him. The last time he heard your voice.

Six days had passed since he'd last held your body, covered in blood and cold as the arms of death that had ripped you so aggressively from him. Six days spent in agony and tears as he drowned himself with pain, becoming drunk with the memories of you.

He couldn't remember Sam telling him where you were, or Cas taking him there with reluctance, warning the eldest Winchester that it would be better if he didn't come with him and Sam. Dean couldn't remember yelling at both his brother and the angel that he had to save you, telling them that there was still a chance to do so.

The only, and perhaps the cruelest, thing that he could remember was running into the broken house that you were hunting in, and falling to his knees as he saw your lifeless body laying at the bottom of the stairs. He could remember crawling to you, sobbing as he took your corpse in his arms and begged you to be alive. He could remember staring at your blank eyes, opened wide in fear and staring at nothing in particular. And he could remember kissing you softly, one last time, and tasting metal on your lips.

But it was all a blur from there. At one point, Castiel managed to pry Dean away from your broken figure, the heavenly being almost incapable of doing the task as he did not want to accept the truth about your death. Dean then had collapsed into his brother's arms, both hunters mourning the life that had been so carelessly taken away from them.

Castiel carried you to the Bunker, knowing that it was for the best of both brothers to do so, as neither of them could have possibly faced holding your empty body. He and Sam insisted that you had a hunter's funeral, but Dean instead quietly took out an old shovel from the back of the Impala. Neither Cas or Sam had the strength, or the will, to do anything else than to follow his lead and start digging with him.