Got Some 'Splaining' To Do

"You wanna tell me something, (y/n)? No, don't even bother. Go help Dean, I'll deal with Dad," Sam said. You wanted to explain, but the words just wouldn't comply. You certainly didn't want to mess up what you had with Sam, so you just went and did as he asked. Moving silently to the crumpled mess on the floor that was Dean, you pulled his head into your lap. "Dean, wake up, you moron. I told you this would happen, but you didn't listen. What am I going to have to do to make this up to you?" you mumbled. You pushed a strand of hair away from his face, but that made the rest of your hair fall into a curtain around you both. "Dean..." you breathed quietly. Closing your eyes, you rested your forehead on his and sighed softly. "Freaking Winchesters," you said. Dean coughed beneath you and you bolted upright. His eyes fluttered open and his green eyes searched your face. "Are we dead?" he said hoarsely. You let out the breath you'd been holding and helped him sit up. "No, you're not dead. Neither of us are. I told you idiots not to do something, you did it, and you almost died. Go figure," you said, dragging him to the wall.  You propped him up and went to get a rag for his head.

Standing at the edge of the sink, you wrung out as much of the water as you could and filled up a small cup that you'd washed out of the sink. When you came back, John was up and leaning on the wall. "Absolutely not. Sam, take him to the living room and lay him out on the couch; I'll bring Dean in there in a minute. John, don't you dare move. I specifically told you to mess with this, and what else did you do but go in there, guns blazing, and you and your eldest son almost because of it. I hope you're happy with yourself," you raged, kneeling in front of Dean. He had a smirk on his face and he choked out a weak laugh. "I love it when you take control," he said. "Cram it, Dean," you said. You handed him the glass of water and dabbed the small cut at the corner of his head. He drank it and set it down beside him. You stood and extended a hand town to him. Grabbing it, he slowly rose up on his feet to lean heavily on your back and drape over your shoulder. 

It took a while, but you brought him to the living room. You saw John standing in the kitchen beside Sam, who was arguing quietly with him. Feeling the anger bubble up in you, you helped Dean to the couch and he flopped on his back. You stormed over to John and cleared your throat. He turned around and a crack rang through the room. You'd slapped him. His eyes were wide and ablaze with fury. As he opened his mouth to speak, you slapped him again. "Sam, Dean. Now," you whispered dangerously low. You shot him a glare and he left. "Do you find it impossible to take someone's word as gospel? I told you that you couldn't handle them, but , Mr. Winchester had to go and take it as his problem. I could've prevented all this and it had just been a talk with him, I could've told you about them, and then we're good! Are you always this way?" you shouted. You felt the boys' eyes on your back, but you didn't care. "Taking others safety first? Yes! If anything, this is your fault for keeping your little secret! If you hand't been so high-and-mighty about your 'friends', then both me and my son would be fine right now! So if you want to stay, I suggest you break off all contact with those monsters," he shouted back. "Then I'm gone. Thanks for the break from reality. I hope you Winchester's keep safe. I love those boys, y'know," you said, turning to leave. You slung the door open and then boys stood there, mouth agape. 

"You're not going anywhere," said Sam. Dean was looking down at the ground. "This is my fault for not listening to you," he mumbled. "Don't you dare blame this on yourself. You were following John's orders like a son should. This is not your fault, Dean, promise," you said. You wound your arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. He held you tight against his chest and laid a chaste kiss on the top of your head. "Don't leave, (y/n)," he said. You didn' respond, only pulled away and went to hug Sam, too. He was taller, so you settled on putting your arms around his waist. He didn't hug back. "I don't know why you're hugging me. You're not leaving," he said with a forced smile. "John doesn't want me here, so yeah, I am, Sammy," you said. All of a sudden, he picked you up and held you close. "Nope," he stated. You smiled and put your hand on his cheek. Kissing his forehead, you wriggled free and went to the room you and Dean had shared. 

It wasn't easy to pack up from the only family-like place you'd known in years, but you had to. Everything was back in the bag like it was supposed to be except for one of the four books you'd brought and a notebook from your father. You sat on the bed and wrote something down in a flurry, stuck it in the book so the top was peering out, and crammed it under the blankets on Dean's side of the bed. You smiled and picked up the bag when something caught the corner of your eyes. It was Gabriel. "At least let me leave the house first, Gabe. I can't just disappear," you said flatly. "Give me a piece of paper, too. I need to write something to the moose," he said, holding out his hand. "Nothing stupid, moron. I'm reading it first,"you said, finally handing him what he wanted. He scribbled something down and put it in the book with the other one. Checking to see that no one saw you leave, you silently slipped away and walked for a few miles before sitting and crying over what you'd lost.

Back at the house, John called your name. When you didn't respond, Sam came and they had a bigger fight than they'd ever had. Sam would've walked out right then had Dean not intervened with two small pieces of paper and a hardback cover of in hand. He tossed the book to John and read the two notes. When he was done with them, he let them drop and walked away quietly.