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You, Dean, Sam and Cas had finally found the vamp's nest.
The creatures had taken over an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. It was the perfect hunting ground—isolated enough that no one paid attention to the screams, but close enough to the bars and clubs to lure in drunk college students looking for an afterparty.
The plan was simple.
Enter the warehouse.
Rescue the victims.
Kill as many vampires as possible.
Burn the place to the ground.
Dean wasn't thrilled with the strategy, especially because it meant splitting up. He and Sam would clear the east side of the building while you and Cas handled the west. Logically, it made sense.
Emotionally?
Dean hated it.
You leaned against the Impala, adjusting the sheath of your machete as Dean pulled Cas aside for what had to be the fourth time in ten minutes.
"Watch her."
Cas blinked. "I am aware of the objective.”
"No, I mean watch her."
Cas frowned. "I am looking directly at her."
Dean rubbed a hand down his face. "Cas." The angel stared back blankly. You bit back a laugh. Dean lowered his voice. "If anything happens—"
"Dean."
His head snapped toward you. "What?"
"I'm standing right here."
"I know."
"Then stop talking about me like I'm not."
Dean opened his mouth. Closed it. Opening it again. "You know what I mean." You rolled your eyes.
And there it was again. Another confusing Dean Winchester moment.
One minute he'll be staying up until sunrise drinking beer with you, sharing stories he never told anyone else.
Next he'd be introducing you as his friend. Just a friend. Nothing more.
Nevermind the almost kiss. Never mind the lingering looks. Never mind the way his hand always found the small of your back whenever danger was nearby.
You weren't imagining it. You knew you weren't. The tension was there. You could feel it every time you looked at him. The problem was Dean could feel it too, and Dean Winchester would rather wrestle a nest of vampires than talk about his feelings.
You knew he cared. You saw it every hunt. Every time you got hurt. Every time he looked you over after a fight just to make sure all your limbs were still attached. He cared. The idiot just refused to admit why.
God, men.
"You ready?" Sam asked.
You nodded. "As I'll ever be."
The four of you exchanged one final look before heading toward the warehouse. As you moved past Dean, his hand caught your wrist. You froze. "Be careful."
Your heart sank a little. That was it? Just be careful? You offered him a small smile.
"Always am."
Dean and Sam finally reached the Impala, both leaning against the car as they tried to catch their breath.
The warehouse burned behind them, flames licking through shattered windows and lighting up the night sky. Smoke billowed upward in thick black clouds.
They hadn't found a single survivor. Only bodies. Vampire corpses and severed heads littered the warehouse floor.
Dean hated it. The whole damn night.
His eyes immediately went to the warehouse doors. Cas emerged through the smoke, coughing as he made his way across the lot. Alone.
Dean's stomach dropped. You weren't with him. "Cas!" His voice echoed through the industrial park. Dean shoved away from the Impala and stalked toward the angel. "Cas, where is she?" Cas barely had time to answer before Dean grabbed the front of his trench coat. "You were supposed to stay with her!" Dean shouted. "Where is she?"
Every horrible possibility slammed into him at once.
Bitten. Dead. Trapped. Burning.
Dean's breathing became shallow. His grip tightened.
"Dean—"
"WHERE IS SHE?" The warehouse door remained empty. Dean couldn't look away from it. Couldn't stop staring. Cas followed his gaze.
"Y/N was right behind me. She pushed me out before the roof collapsed." He frowned. "I don't know—"
A cough interrupted him.
All three of them snapped their heads toward the sound. A figure emerged from the smoke. Hobbling. Slow. Alive. Dean's heart lurched.
You rounded the side of the building, illuminated by the fire behind you. Blood covered you from head to toe. It stained your clothes. Even your white sneakers. A machete dangled limply from your fingers. Your other arm was pressed protectively against your ribs.
"Shit." Dean was moving before he even realised it. The closer he got, the worse you looked. Blood matted sections of your hair together. Scratches covered your face and arms. Bruises were already beginning to bloom beneath your skin.
You stumbled. Dean caught you before you hit the ground. His hands immediately moved to your face. Shaky. Desperate.
His eyes darted over every inch of you. Looking for bites. Looking for wounds. Looking for proof that you were okay.
His mouth opened. Then closed again. No words came out.
You stared at him. Really stared. His chest was heaving. His eyes were glassy. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. The realization hit immediately.
Dean Winchester was having a panic attack.
"Dean." Your voice came out rough from the smoke. His eyes kept moving. Searching. "Dean." Nothing. You grabbed the front of his jacket. "Dean!" His gaze finally locked onto yours. You shook your head. "It's not my blood." His breathing hitched. "It's not my blood," you repeated. "I'm okay." His eyes searched yours. "I'm hurt a little," you admitted. "But I'm okay."
His voice came out small. Almost childlike. "You're okay?"
You nodded. "I'm okay." Your hands pressed against his chest. Grounding him. Grounding yourself. "I'm alive." Dean swallowed hard. "We're okay."
The words repeated quietly between you. A mantra. A promise. Dean nodded. Trying to convince himself it was real. You were here. Alive. In his arms. He hadn't lost you. The overwhelming relief hit him all at once. His head was exhausted. His heart wasn't.
Before he could overthink it, before he could talk himself out of it, Dean leaned forward and kissed you.
Soft. Desperate. Real.
Your eyes widened briefly. Then you melted against him. Your fists tangled in his jacket, pulling him closer.
Dean kissed you like he'd been holding it back for months. Like he'd almost lost the chance. Every fear. Every sleepless night. Every feeling he'd buried. It was all there.
When he finally pulled away, neither of you moved far. His forehead rested against yours. His eyes stayed closed. "I thought I lost you." The confession cracked on the way out. A shaky breath escaped him. When he finally opened his eyes, they were brighter than before. Greener. Softer. Terrified. "You scared the hell outta me."
You smiled weakly. "Sorry."
"I'm never letting you out of my sight again."
A laugh escaped you. "Never?"
Dean finally laughed too. The tension breaking at last. "Never."
You studied him for a moment. Then grinned. "You like me."
Dean groaned immediately. "Oh, for the love of—"
"You like me," you sang again.
"Shut up." Was Dean Winchester blushing? Apparently he was. Sam's laughter echoed from beside the Impala.
Dean shot his brother a glare. "Not a word."
Sam held both hands up. "I didn't say anything."
Dean rolled his eyes before carefully wrapping an arm around your waist. "C'mon." He pulled you gently toward the car. "Let's get you back to the bunker." This time, when his hand settled against your side, neither of you pretended it meant nothing.