Broken Apart (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Tracing

The next day you woke up feeling hungover and horrible. You glanced at the whiskey bottle next to you, surprised to see it halfway empty. Picking up the phone laying next to it, you saw that Sam hadn't tried to call you, instead he had sent you multiple texts ranging from how are you, to when are you coming back, to we need you, to please just keep us informed. That was the last one, and you knew that Sam must have realized how much you needed space. It hurt, and you were surprised that it hurt, that Sam had given up so easily. In a way you wished he was still calling, and texting you. But that was selfish, he was in the middle of helping his brother.

What got you though, was that in all of those texts, he never said a word about his brother, and it bothered you. Yes, you might have run off, but you still loved Dean, deeply, and you wanted to know if the process was still going on, or maybe he was cured by now. But if he was, why wasn't he trying to contact you?

These questions plagued you, until you raised the bottle to your lips, trying to drown them and the sorrow away. It didn't work, but the burn of the liquid was comforting, and you kept raising it until there was nothing left. Frustrated, you threw it against the wall, the sound of it shattering, sounding like music to your ears.

It was then you tried curling in on yourself, ready to sleep off your new buzz and the feelings that were making there way back into your head. As you moved, your stomach twinged, and you almost cried at the pain and heat radiating from your wound. Rolling onto your back, you pulled the covers off, lifting your shirt, wincing when you saw what was once a white bandage now red.

Gently pulling it away from your skin, you gazed up red, angry skin. It was inflamed, probably infected. You groaned, wondering what else could go wrong. You thought back to what little medical training you had, knowing that an infection was not something to mess with. As you sat there wondering what to do, your phone vibrated, another text from Sam.

Y/N, I'm worried about you. How are your stitches? We need you.

You considered answering him, but decided against it. Instead, you laid on the bed, groaning a little, as the pain coursed through you, worse than before. You knew this wasn't good, but you weren't sure what to do about it.

Deciding on more sleep, you pulled the blankets up, closing your eyes, just as you heard a familiar rustle. "Cas?" You asked, opening your eyes back up to notice the angel standing at the edge of your bed, staring down at you. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"You haven't been properly warded against angels yet, so I could track you. Sam was worried when you didn't text him back, so he asked me to come check on you." Cas replied, still looking at you curiously.

"Well, I'm fine so go back and tell him to leave me alone." You told him.

He shook his head, not buying your act. "I don't think you're fine Y/N. How is your wound?"

You pulled the covers up over you, trying to hide your wound. You knew you were being stupid, that you needed help, but you were too stubborn to admit it. "It's fine Cas. Now can you please go?"

He shook his head, before extending his hand, trying to place his fingers on your forehead. "Woah, buddy, what do you think you''re doing?" You asked, flinching away from him, cringing as the movement upset your sore belly.

"Healing you." He said simply.

"No!" You almost yelled the words, surprising him so much he jumped backwards a little.

Once he recovered from his shock, he narrowed his eyes at you. "Why? I know you are in discomfort. Let me help you."

You shook your head. "No, I don't want anyone's help. Now please, can you go?"

He stared at you for a moment, and you squirmed under his gaze. "Fine, but I don't like it. Please keep in contact with Sam. Or I will be back." He threatened, before turning to leave.

"Cas? How is he?" You asked, your voice quiet.

"He's back." Cas said, and then he was gone.

You sat there in shock after Cas was gone. You had known it would happen, you believed in Sam, and he believed in the cure, but knowing it had really worked, that Dean was no longer a Demon, was almost too good to believe. For just a second you wanted to gather your items and head back to the bunker, back into the arms of the man who held your heart.

But then you remembered he probably still had the mark, and that still didn't bode well for you. Torn between what to do, you tried to stand up, deciding on another liquor run, since your only bottle was currently shattered in a million pieces. 

As you placed your feet on the rough carpet, you winced as your stomach fought the move. Ignoring the pain, you stood up, gently making your way to the bathroom, feeling as if you could throw up any moment. The pain was overwhelming, and you were starting to shiver, the movement jarring your already sore stomach. You leaned against the counter, pouring yourself a glass of water, and finding a couple of aspirin to help combat your fever.

 The water was refreshing, and feeling a little better, you moved back into your room, deciding that going on a liquor run was out of the question. You were almost to your bed when you felt light headed, and you could only watch as the floor moved up to meet your face.