This Is What It Feels Like
Seven months. Seven months since Gabriel had died at your hands and in front of you. Seven months since you'd fought Lucifer and zero days since you'd had a day without tears. No smiles, no laughs and jokes, just... trying to push him out of your mind any way you possibly could. Going on hunts, flirting (and beyond) recklessly with Dean and even Sam, getting drunk, staying in bed just a little too long, going so far as to taint the ever-pure Castiel. Not a sign he was alive and you had long since resigned to sleeping in minuscule intervals of half-hours at most and that was achieved only by hurting yourself. You could work on three hours a day forever if you needed to. Not to say that the boys didn't try to convince you otherwise. But you had literally made friends with the Devil and anything was possible to you. Except, of course, getting Gabe back.
"That was hot, (Y/n)!" called Dean from the other side of the warehouse as the vamp's head fell to the floor with a sickening thud. You flipped the hair that hadn't been cut in almost a year behind your shoulder and kicked the head without replying to the eldest Winchester. A guy around your age was cowering in the corner and you took him by the arm and pulls him outside. "Were you bitten? Did they feed you anything?" you asked in a demanding voice. He shook his head quickly and you relaxed a little. "Okay. You can go," you said, this time calmer. He thanked you guys again and scuttled away. You heard large feet approach you from behind followed by a familiar scent and you fell backwards in a trust fall manner. Huge arms caught you with a chuckle and you forced a smile at Sam before going back inside to get your machete.
You heard the boys talking and moving around the car as you wiped the drying blood off on one of the corpse's. There was a familiar rustling of wings and you glanced up. You were met with dark hair and inquisitive blue eyes paired with a light smile. Pleased to see Castiel as always, you went over and tugged him outside to the Impala where the boys stood waiting. "(Y/n), I need to speak with you. In private, preferably," said Cas as you neared the boys. "Not now, Cas," you said. "Look who I found flapping around," you announced. Dean glanced over and grinned. "Hey, it's alive! Where you been, man?" he asked. "I have been attending to business in Heaven as usual, Dean. I sensed (Y/n) was longing for something, so I came down to see if I could be of assistance," he replied cooly. Sam poked his head out of the back seat window and said, "Nope, that was me. Been a while and besides, (Y/n) has been complaining about missing you. Thanks for coming, Cas." Castiel frowned and said, "Sam, I am busy. I will always come when any of you call, but please, nothing trivial. I must return." You rolled your eyes and hugged him before he could get away. "You're always busy, though," you whined. He glanced down at you before answering, "Yes, it would seem so." You faked another smile and kissed him on the cheek before getting in the back of the car.
You saw Dean talking to him for a minute before Castiel went over to Sam's window and opened the door. "Dean would like me to come and for you to drive because he wants to 'make a move' on (Y/n)," he said bluntly. You pretended not to hear. Sam snickered, but moved over and Dean climbed in next to you. "I'm tired and your thighs are comfortable pillows," he said with a wink. Your mind flashed back to nights and you rolled your eyes and brushed the thoughts off. True to his word, when Sam started the car, he rested his head on your thigh and closed his eyes. You let your hand absentmindedly drag through his hair and he sighed contentedly. "How far from the Bunker?" you asked Sam. The Bunker. Another new thing, It was home to you and the boys. At least, ever since you lost John. He shrugged and said, "No clue. Maybe an hour or two? I slept on the way up here, same as you." You nodded and leaned your head back against the warm seat, letting Dean's gentle breathing lull you into a fitful sleep.
Your eyes flew open and your hands went to shield your face. Dean's alert eyes searched your face as he reached out to grab you by the shoulder. Your chest was heaving as it always was after the nightmare, but you'd learned how to clam it in seconds with practice. "Sam, pull over," ordered Dean. Sam glanced back at you, his eyes filled with worry. You pushed Dean's hands off of you and said, "No, don't. I'm fine. It was just a dream. Don't, Sam." Dean's eyes were angry, but he seemed to slump back in defeat. You all four stayed silent as ever, the only noise Lucifer's giggling as he poked you in the side. Needless to say, the ride was uncomfortable.
When you got back to the Bunker, everyone went inside and you stayed in the Impala. Dean was wary enough, but he complied with your wish. After a minute of full silence, you sighed and got out to sit on the hood of the car. You opened the garage door to let the warm air in. The end of summer was nearing and it kept you moving. A breeze swayed past your bare leg as a single tear slipped down your cheek. You choked back a sob when you heard footsteps from boots you knew belonged to Dean. "I knew it. I knew you weren't fine," he said when the footsteps stopped too close to you for comfort. You did't say anything, just stared out into the bright expanses of forest overlooking a city. Birds chirped and the sun was shining, but it all hurt so much. "Say something, (Y/n). I'm done not knowing what's going on in that pretty little head of yours. You have to tell me or Cas is going to help me make you tell. I won't stand by and watch the woman I love destroy herself," he said in a low voice. Everything in you wanted to keep it to yourself, but the snarky, rebellious side of you won.
"Alright, you want to know, Dean? Really? Fine. I haven't smiled, laughed, or gone a day without crying in seven months, nineteen days. Every time I close my eyes, I have nightmares about what happen not-so long ago and I've tried pushing it out, doing anything, but nothing works. You've fallen in love with someone who doesn't even think herself capable of love since she left her's out in the cold to die. Against someone's wishes, I might add," you said very quietly. His eyes were wide and is expression like a child's, but you didn't care. Continuing, you said, "I have gone through Hell to make sure I don't do anything stupid or give in to whatever Lucifer says-- oh, yeah, ever since I died all that time ago, Satan's been chasing me-- to make sure I can be around for you idiots! I care about you and Sam and Cas, not the way you want me to, but I do care! Do you know what it feels like to be drowning on dry land or to be screaming at the top of your lungs for something to grab onto in a crowd? It feels like something is clawing its way to the surface and I cannot let it out, but I'll be damned if I let this destroy me more than it already has! Dean, I am dying and nothing you can say can or will change my mind from saying that I will never be the girl you fell in love with. Nor will I ever love again. I can't. Ever."
It looked like his world had been torn from him. "But... those nights..." he said weakly. "Had 'em with more than you. Hell, I've had them with your brother and Cas. I don't even care anymore. I think I should go," you stated, hopping off the roof of the car and grabbing the bag you'd prepared from under the seat of the car. Dean grabbed your arm in a tight grip and held you there. "You can't go. I can make you see you love, you fight this. I can't lose you and I don't care what or who you did, I love you, (Y/n). Don't go. I need you," he begged. You pulled your arm away and looked him straight in the eye.
"I needed you to let me go that night."