Supernatural Short Stories

Married to the Job

"Damn it, Dean," you cursed, slamming your coffee cup on the table, wincing as the scalding liquid sloshed over the Eeyore cup you cherished. But it didn't deter the frustration you were feeling.

Dean stood at the door, his arms crossed, his mouth in a tight line promising the fact that he had already made up his mind. You wanted to hurl your coffee cup at him, but you didn't want to lose your favorite coffee cup. Instead, you stood up and poured your coffee and your breakfast in the trash. You were no longer hungry. Not after the bombshell that Dean had just dropped.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face him. "Dean, why? You knew that today was our anniversary. You promised me. No research, no hunting. Just you, and me and a trip to that nice little resort a couple of hours away."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Things happen. Jobs show up when we least expect them. What do you want me to do? Say sorry, I'm not going to come save your lives because I need to go pamper myself."

You rolled your eyes before pushing past Dean. "Once again, you're missing the point. I don't begrudge your saving lives. I just wish you weren't so married to the job. That you would remember you married me. And sometimes, you have to work on that marriage as well."

You turned down the hallway to see Sam standing there, his mouth hanging wide open. You smiled sadly as you passed him, not letting the first tear drop until you were alone. Dean's bag was already packed and on the bed. Your bag was packed, but not for a hunting trip. It had your seldom used one piece swimsuit. A simple black one that Dean always said he loved seeing you wear.

You had also planned on surprising Dean with your new set of lingerie. Lacy and red, you had been hesitant to buy it, but you wanted something special for your anniversary. But now it didn't matter.

Angrily wiping the tear away, you yanked the items out of your duffel bag, throwing them in a heap on the chair before shoving in some flannel and Jeans. An extra shirt or two along with your holy water and angel blade.

"Here, I can take that," Dean spoke up from the doorway, no sign of regret in his eyes. You wouldn't have minded the change of plans if he had pleaded with you. But he had already made up his mind, without consulting you at all.

You threw your bag at him before storming past. Sitting down in the backseat of the Impala, you slid on your headphones. You were determined to stay mad at Dean for ruining such an important weekend for the two of you.

It wasn't like you asked for much. Your wedding had been a simple affair, officiated by Cas, attended by Sam, Jody, Donna and your hunter friend Slyvia. No honeymoon, no fancy night at a hotel. Just back to work with the promise you would do something nice later.

For your Birthday Dean had taken on a hunt in South Dakota with Jody, leaving you alone in the Bunker to drink an entire bottle of wine on your own.

It wasn't that you expected him to give up hunting. You had just hoped that he could pull away just a little bit to give your marriage the support you so desperately needed.

You stayed silent the entire trip, falling asleep somewhere in Colorado. Sam had kept glancing back at you while Dean had acted as if nothing was wrong. As if you weren't spending your anniversary on the road once again.

Instead of a night spent in a cozy little cabin, you were currently laying on a lumpy old mattress, the broken TV taunting you in the corner. Both Sam and Dean had gone to talk to the witnesses, while you had opted to stay behind, lounging in bed, wearing one of Dean's old flannels.

"Broken heart?" a man's voice spoke from the bathroom. This tall man ducked as he stepped through the doorframe, his shoulders brushing the trim. He had sandy blonde hair, a strong jaw and long legs that rivaled Sam's. But it was the black eyes that had you reaching under your pillow for the blade you always kept there. "Oh, I don't think so sweetheart."