You Die Pt. 2 (Dean Imagine)
(I saw the Maze Runner yesterday and it was amazing, just like the book. I couldn’t form coherent words after it was over. Anyways, it was requested that I do a second part to You Die, so here we go! I’m sorry if the ending isn’t that good, it’s like 2:30 AM and I’m falling asleep on my laptop so I may rewrite the ending in the future. I hope you like it and thank you for reading! I think that’s all I have to say for once… We luh ya all so much, baes. –Ann)
It had been about a month since your death. You weren’t lying when you told Dean you didn’t want to die, that you wanted to stay. So you did.
You knew Dean would keep your necklace, a stone carved into the shape of an arrow, strung onto a (now very worn) piece of dark brown string. He had it with him everywhere he went, enabling you to be with him too. At first it was infuriating, trying to get his attention. You would try everything, flipping pages in books, moving their guns from the nightstand to the kitchen table, slamming a door, but it was exhausting and the Winchester’s remained clueless.
Once, you almost did get Dean’s attention.
He was sitting at the big table in the bunker, a glass of bourbon in one hand, your necklace in the other. His eyebrows were knitted together in regret as he let the tattered cording slide through his fingers and fall onto the table. He downed the rest of the bourbon, setting the glass down before running his hand over his face, an exhausted expression that had become standard crossing his face. This was how things were almost every night and you hated it. You hated seeing him tearing himself apart, blaming himself for your death, and not being able to do anything about it.
You tried to touch him, to show him that you were still with him, but your hand went right through him. You tried to talk to him, telling him it wasn’t his fault, but your words were a hopeless shout into the void. He couldn’t hear you, he couldn’t see you, and he couldn’t feel you.
“Dammit, Dean! I’m right here!” You finally cried, the built up frustration of the whole situation causing your outburst. You were surprised when Dean perked up, looking around with wide eyes.
“(Y/N)?” His voice sounded tired, vulnerable, and unsure.
“Yeah, it’s me! It’s (Y/N)!” You could barely contain your excitement as you rushed to his side, taking a seat next to him. Finally, something was working.
But then he didn’t say anything for a while, and then he sighed, muttering, “I am so drunk.” Your face fell as he got up, taking your necklace, and left the room.
Since then, you did your best to help the boys on cases. At first you did simple things like pulling out books and newspaper articles. After a while, you felt your spirit getting stronger, so when you had the chance, you would take the necklace out of Dean’s pocket and go on to do some not-so-simple things like distracting a vengeful spirit while Sam and Dean were salting and burning the bones. And that’s when Dean began to notice your presence.
“Hey, Sam, have you see (Y/N)’s necklace?” Dean came into his little brother’s room looking troubled, to say the least.
“Um, no, why? Did you lose it?” Sam frowned, looking up from his laptop screen to give Dean a concerned look. Dean barely ate, preferring to drink away his misery, and sleeping hadn’t exactly been a priority on his To Do list either lately.
“I always have it with me, it’s always in my pocket.” Dean insisted, turning back around to leave before stopping, an idea suddenly making its way into his head. “You haven’t noticed anything weird going on around here, have you?”
“Dean, I’m sorry, but I don’t think (Y/N) is here, if that’s what you’re talking about. We gave her a hunter’s funeral, remember?” Sam deadpanned. The last thing Dean needed was to entertain a seemingly impossible idea.
“Well, then how do you describe the research being done for us? The newspaper clippings? And what about that thing with the spirit in Missouri?” Dean immediately became defensive, adding up the recent happenings and connecting them.
You took this as your chance to finally let the boys know you were here. You slid a piece of paper over on Sam’s desk, picking up a pencil, and began writing,
Dean, I’m okay.
It’s really me, I’m here.
Both brothers watched in amazement as the pencil moved across the paper to reveal the message that you were, in fact, still on earth.
“(Y/N)…” Dean’s face broke out into a smile as you appeared in front of them, your expression mirroring Dean’s.
“Why can we see you?” Sam asked, still just stunned by your sudden appearance.
“I took the necklace, it’s what’s keeping me here… I wanted to stay… But only for a little while, only for one reason.” You answered hesitantly, meeting Dean’s eyes before shifting your gaze back to Sam.
An hour later, you and Dean were in a bar… well, Dean was the only one in the bar that could see you, but there weren’t many people so it was the perfect opportunity to talk.
“Why did you stay?” Dean asked quietly, almost under his breath, so no one around him could hear.
“At first, it was because I wasn’t ready to die, but now it’s because I need to tell you that it wasn’t your fault. And I need to tell you to move on.” You answered, watching as Dean took a sip of his beer.
“Move on? How the hell am I supposed to do that?” He demanded, a hurt look crossing his face.
“Dean, you and I both know you can’t mourn forever. I just want you to know that eventually you will find someone new, and when you do, it’s okay. Look at that blonde over there, she’s cute.” You pointed to a petite blonde with curly hair and hazel eyes drinking with another girl, presumably her friend.
“My dead girlfriend is trying to hook me up with another girl… You’re sick, you know that, (Y/N)?” Dean asked, smiling sadly. You returned the gesture, sliding off the barstool.
“Come on, it’s time for me to go now.” You said softly, taking the necklace off as Dean paid and you left the bar. In the empty parking lot, Dean pulled out the lighter and you handed him the necklace.
“I love you, Dean, so much.” You whispered, wishing you could just feel his skin under yours one last time.
“There has to be another way, (Y/N).” Dean’s voice was pleading as he choked out the words but you shook your head.
“It’s okay.” You smiled, a genuine smile. “I’m okay.”