A/N: Okay, first off, I actually really liked writing this one, especially the ending. Honestly, one of my favourite endings haha. Oh, and it’s a Dean one!! My bby😍 HAHA anywayssss, enjoy!!
Request: Heyyyy. How about you one when Dean was a demon, and he obviously slept with some women, and when he get hold in the chair with Sammy trying to bring him back, he start saying things to hurt them, and in case y/n saying that he had been with other women and blah. And she hold pretty way but when she leaves the room she start to cry. And when Dean comes back at human, he want to hug her and say that he loves her but he know what he said hurt her and … idk honey. I would appreciate it alotttt ❤
You quickly rushed down the bunker steps and
headed straight to the cell. You had received a call from Sam that Dean was here,
chained to a chair and you knew you had to get there immediately. You were
wrapping up a case when you received the call, rushing here as quick as you
Dean, he wasn’t himself now, but you knew
Sam would turn him back. Dean was killed by Metatron and was brought back to
life but as a demon, all because of the stupid mark.
You entered the room and saw Sam standing
in front of Dean, injecting a syringe full of blood into Dean, Dean yelling as
he flinched away in apparent pain. Slowing your steps, you watched as Dean
turned to look at you, licking his lips before he smirked. “Well, hello,
He blinked, his eyes turning ink black
before he blinked again, his eyes turning back to the green that you love, but
they were cold, distant. You let out a breath. “Dean.”
“Y/N,” Sam greeted as he straightened up,
turning to put the empty syringe on the table.
“Sam,” you returned, giving the man a small
“You both think I’m the monster,” Dean
said, drawing your attention as he looked to Sam before looking at you. “But
the two of you are wrong. You think I don’t know what the two of you had been
doing while trying to find me? Making an innocent man sell his soul, you two
are the real monsters.”
You felt your breath hitch as he said that,
Sam immediately stood in front of you but not completely so that you could
still lock eyes with Dean. Sam looked at you. “Don’t listen to him.”
“I’m sick of babysitting and saving both
your asses all the time and if I’m back to being human, I’ll just be doing the
same thing again, but as a demon, I have so much freedom,” Dean continued. “I
can drink all the booze, get all the chicks I want. Oh, all those beautiful
women, the feisty ones, they really get you.”
When you woke up, you felt a little happy than usual. You turned your body to face Dean and he was still asleep and at peace. You like to admire him especially during this time, the only time he’s actually at peace. You traced his jaw line with your finger and he leaned to your touch but did not wake up. You sighed with a soft smile and turned to reach for your phone.
Dean vows, probably for the fifth or sixth time in his life, never to touch alcohol again.
He wakes up at two in the afternoon, dried spit trailing down one cheek, crust sticking his eyelashes together, a headache pounding in one temple, and a violently growling stomach.
Thinking of the leftover pasta in the fridge, Dean makes to crawl out of bed but flops back down with a groan when every muscle in his body screams in protest.
“Ugghhh… Sammy’s s'posed to be me right now,” he whines into his pillow. His little brother’s twenty-first birthday meant that Dean could finally (legally) get him shitfaced in a public bar. If Dean’s vague memories of Sam singing “Like a Virgin” on the kareoke stage were any indication, he’d succeeded.