A Bond Can Persevere
If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you knew that this day would come sooner or later and that the happiness you had allowed yourself to feel was simply temporary. Had you not been selfishly blinded by your feelings, you would have prepared better, left leeway to escape in the event that he was changed back to who he was before. Still, it had been worth it. Loving him had been so worth it when love is not allowed amongst your kind. Ruby had taken advantage of it to destroy Sam. Meg had hidden it in her actions under the guise of simply needing a way out. And you? You had grown drunk off of feeling again, of retaining a semblance of humanity and expanding it once he became yours. Demons usually don’t retain their soul bond tattoos, but you knew that Ruby manipulated hers to her benefit and others usually used them to the same means. You could have burned yours off of your flesh where it curled its way vertically down the valley between your breasts.
You should’ve.
It was a lot harder to hide the fact that for some reason, Dean Winchester was your soulmate; any other white eyed demon would have tried to use you to their advantage, but you weren’t a mere pawn. You had risen above the shaggy crossroads demon to be one of your own right. Even Crowley held you in a higher regard when referring to you or bothering to ask for your assistance. The ‘King of Hell’ rarely did ask, because you always said no . A part of your humanity made you hate killing, hate the idea of having blood on your hands if you could avoid it. So you didn’t during the angel and demon spats. You kept yourself away, never taking a side. Why should you involve yourself in their useless fighting that only left more of each kind as well as humans dead? You were very logical in your ideology when it came to being a laid back upper-level demon.
Still, you are a demon, and you gave into selfish wants and needs the moment a freshly made Demon Dean reached your radar. Crowley must have had his suspicions and had them confirmed because you couldn’t fight the pull to him. Call it stalkerish, but you had kept an eye on him for a long time, always watching from afar, a girl sitting off to the side at a bar he inhabited, ignoring him picking up another blonde or brunette. You had long since relinquished the right to him being what you are and being what he is, but still, you could dream. You could ache and want and think of him late into the night while you tried to find a reason to exist.
As much as you miss the way Dean used to be, the wisecracks and pigging out on fast food, Demon Dean is interesting. He’s dangerous. There is no telling what he’ll do and who he’ll kill because the Mark of Cain is detrimental and the First Blade has a power over him that you can barely contain and overpower. He’s twisted up inside with a mouth that likes to tear people down and leave them in shambles. You watch him single handedly get kicked out of three strip clubs in quick succession because all he does is drink away his sorrows and pain and the need to tear his blade through flesh.
“I don’t need some damn babysitter, Crowley. I’m a fucking big boy,” Dean spits, eyes narrowed as he stares you down. He’s at least a foot taller and you ignore that sensation fluttering up your chest. Now isn’t the time to swoon and keen over him when he’s acting like a child who does need to be looked after. And Crowley knows what you know and it makes sense to use you as a means to get Dean to stop acting so erratically. You glance over at him, gaze cool and firm, betraying nothing. He is not yours, even if you belong to him. You don’t care whether or not he has a tattoo of your name or someone else’s or none at all. It will never change the fact that he is not yours and he shouldn’t even be in this form.
“Could’ve fooled me,” You spit back, watching his eyes flitter black as he instantly draws out the blade, ready to slice you to pieces. But you aren’t afraid, he won’t do it, no matter what he might think. And you could just send him back to hell if you felt like it. Or turn him into a crow. You were quite fond of those aerial beasts.
“Now, now, settle down children. Dean, (y/n) here is very good at what she does and she’s going to be looking after you while I get some work done. Don’t think of it as babysitting, think of it as a long-term playdate,” The Scotsman suggested with a smile, causing you to roll your eyes at his sentiment and attempt at a joke. He was trying to use this to fold your hand and get you to stay in the public eye longer than you’re used to. But to turn down the chance to spend time with Dean for the first time? Even in this form? You are a demon afterall, selfish, craving; you give in all too easily.
Dean is loud and boisterous in this form but still fun. You end up at another hole in the wall bar, having a competition of downing drinks and hilarious karaoke before you stop him from picking another fight. It’s the first time he doesn’t get kicked out in two weeks and you feel rather proud of yourself. Sitting across from each other, a loaded margarita before you and a cold beer in front of him, Dean shoots you a questioning look.
“You don’t seem like a typical run of the mill demon to me. What’s Crowley got on you to be doing this?” Just the fact that I’m yours. That’s all. You shrug and lift up your margarita with a wry smile, giving nothing away as you take a sip and brush back a lock of (h/c) hair from your face. You aren’t foolish enough to view this as a date, although the thought brings another speck of warmth shooting down your chest. If being with him, even just like this, meant that you could feel these things, then it would be enough for you for all of eternity.
“Not as much as you’d think. Definitely not enough to be out in the open like this- but, I admit I know much more about you and felt it would be interesting to see the feared Dean Winchester in action. You’re not very scary.” You tease, smile expanding as you take another sip. Dean downs his beer and snorts in response, leaning in slightly. You can’t help but stare, setting the homely green of his eyes to memory, the cut of his jaw, the volume of his lips. He’s handsome, so handsome, and he knows it. He wields his good looks the way he handles the First Blade, surely and with volition.
“You haven’t seen me scary yet,” He replied with an arch of his brow. You lower your intricate glass and smirk. He’s not using the bedroom voice, good. You had dignity, sure, but given the chance? Of course you’d drag him back to the motel if you could make it there without losing any clothing. Giving a small shake of your head to keep on track, your nose crinkles up.
“I’ve seen enough.” Your counter makes him laugh as your eyes unconsciously flicker to their bright white shade, an indication that you are not a mere black eyed lackie sent there just to babysit. You have power even you don’t bother with because it’s just too troublesome to use them just to preserve yourself or to gain a following. You like your solitude and not having to worry about your henchmen coming back with reports or not showing up because they’re dead. Dean catches the sight of your eyes and you don’t miss the small smile that taps at his lips. Regular Dean rarely smiled unless it was caused by a joke, Regular Dean almost never smiled because he didn’t have a reason to. Regular Dean was sad, constantly, and hid it horribly under a mask of masculinity and sacrifice. Regular Dean had been so human, so breakable and your humanity made it hard for you not to just show up at his motel to let him know that you wanted to protect him.
Stupid.
“Well, maybe you’ll stick around and I’ll show you just how frightening I can be, white eyes.”
And that was the beginning of a beautiful, odd friendship. The playdate expanded into months of you and Dean traveling together, keeping under cover, while you made sure Dean could contain himself, even while using the First Blade. When the high became too great, you’d talk him down, back into a calmed state, and in those weak moments, he’d take your hand and hold it like you were the last thing worth hanging onto. He avoided Sam’s calls and contact like the plague, and you felt almost bad for the little Winchester but it was better that he didn’t see Dean like this. He could be volatile when too drunk and murderous and you would rather continue ducking and dodging Sam then let him see the true monster Dean had transformed into.
Your friendship grows, Dean refuses to speak about his past, but the present and future? The sky’s the limit and he is willing to include you in his vision of whatever it is he wants now. He doesn’t think of you as being temporary, that one day you’re going to up and desert him by going back to your old life. And you have become so comfortable that the thought never ever reaches your mind. You are content there beside him, the karaoke, the drinking, holding him back rather than holding him close. And it’s there, the attraction, you would be a fool not to feel the undercurrent of electricity every time you touch, but you won’t do anything about it. You are not a fool. Dean Winchester, whether a demon or a human or some vessel in between the two, still doesn’t belong to you. He’s stopped going out at nights, more content to watch some preposterous reality television show by your side then find himself a girl of the night. You pretend not to notice, but it’s easy to see that he is changing again.
He’s changing for you.
The first kiss is an accident, and not an accident as in being wrong or bad, but an accident because you hadn’t meant to do it. Dean was in another rage, his blood boiling and amped up to eleven because of the blade. A few demons were attacking the pair of you from both sides, but being macho, he pressed you behind him as if you couldn’t fight for yourself. But he didn’t want you to, he wanted to protect you, this monster, this person who has been his constant companion and confidant. But as he hacks his way through each demon, he starts to grow more enraged, more gone, and you are quick to kick the blade from his hands. He rounds on you, eyes blackened over, and pushes you up against the alley bricks by your throat. You suck in a quick gush before your airway is squeezed, and scramble to grasp at Dean’s face, blood all over the pretty picture.
“D-Dean, Dean,” You wheeze out as he squeeze, cupping his face and staring into his eyes, “It’s m-me, (y/n). S-Stop. Dean.” It takes a moment before he comes back to himself, sucking in a shaky breath as those green orbs find your (e/c) eyes once more, terrified, guilty. You pant softly, still cupping his face and staring. Just staring. He is too handsome, too much for you and your heart. Something that should be understood is it’s not the body you wear that holds the Bonded mark, it’s you . It didn’t matter how many bodies you could jump through, Dean’s name would always appear within the hour, as fresh and new as the first one on your original flesh before that was destroyed when you were sold into your profession. Your hands are covered in blood but you could care less. Dean is coming down, growing calm, until he is just staring back at you until your insides quiver.
You aren’t sure what drove you to do it, maybe it was the fact that you could, that you knew he wouldn’t pull away and you could call this moment your own, but you lean up enough to press your lips against his. The instant gratification makes you weak at the knees. Dean catches you, his thick arms wrapping around you and crushing you against him with a bruising mentality. But you like this, you like that he is rough and soft all at the same time. His mouth bruises your lips as he keeps you close and you don’t know how you make it back to the motel. Everything is a haze of Dean and kisses and the fire raging in your chest. It is too good to be true; but it is a truth that you carry with you. You love him. You love him so damn much even when you know he will be the death of you somehow, some way. You don’t have sex that night, once you break through the high and make him aware.
He isn’t angry, he smiles that knowing smile and strokes a hand down your side while you try to pay attention to the television. He steals kisses after that, makes a point to crowd you against the wall because he can and he knows it and he kisses you until you’re whimpering. For the first time, you embrace your weakness, exalt in it, with every kiss that wavers your resolve that he is not yours. Somehow, everything twists and turns and you find yourself crawling into bed beside him late into the night to snuggle against his chest. You find everything about him endearing, even when he’s washing blood from his hands. And so, despite missing Regular Dean, Demon Dean had his merits. He could be kind, even. He could be soft in his own way. And that was why it felt natural to finally lay yourself bear to him.
The mark took him off guard. For a moment, he felt too afraid to touch it, and you could see a glimpse of his old self there. You explained to him that it didn’t belong to the body, but you. And that he shouldn’t feel like this was wrong, evil, because it’s you that loves him, not the body.
“So… you love me, huh?” Dean questions as he drags an index down the valley of your chest, watching you twist and quiver under his ministrations. And yet, something holds him back from truly touching you, from making you reach a peak you’ve never experienced before. He asks questions about the mark, about you, beginning to put two and two together. Of course Crowley would toss you at him, he assumed, and before he can jump to conclusions, you set the record straight.
“More than this body can contain, I assure you. And no, I’m not meant to keep you in check. I’m not meant to keep you tied to Crowley. He hasn’t paid me off or held me ransom. I’m not doing this because I have to. Trust me. Crowley knows better than to think he can keep me here..” You almost go off on a tangent but stop, sighing softly before peering up at him. “I’m here because I want to be. I want to be with you. Whether you’re here or there. It’s you I’m here for.” You verify with a small nod and before you can do much else, he’s over you, pressed in close with his nose against yours.
“Do you swear by it, (y/n)? Would you love me even if I weren’t a demon?” A good question with an easy answer. You pucker your lips to steal a kiss.
“I loved you before you were a demon.” And that opens up the floodgates. His mouth is taunt against yours as his fingers stroke over your mark and you clutch at him, whines caught against his lips. He takes his time getting attuned to your body; it’s not the same as a one time thing with a girl with no name. It’s you, and you mean more to him than he understands. Your hand shifts to his anti-possession tattoo and it almost hurts how much he doesn’t deserve to be like this. Crowley set him up and you wanted that bitch to fry one day; and he would, even if not by your own hands. He works his way down with kisses until he reaches your clit, lavishing it with so much attention that fire rages up your chest and you explode in a million sensations.
Dean is a man of his word. He promises that no matter what happens, he’s going to take care of you. He’s going to protect you whether you’re an upper-level demon or not. And it is sweet in a dark, twisted way, probably the sweetest thing you’ll ever hear in the world. And it is also foolish, because he wouldn’t always be this way. Demon Dean would not survive if Sam had anything to say about it. And then Regular Dean would be back and he would be all too happy to pierce your heart with Ruby’s knife. But you listen to him, play stupid to the truth, and you let yourself fall further and further in love with him. It’s not long until you are too happy, too at peace.
Too naive.
And then there was Sam and everything you had known was stolen right from your grasp. But then you’re getting ahead of yourself. He was never yours. Dean Winchester did not belong to you. It just suddenly hit you when he was gone. When his laugh no longer reached you, when his fingers were no longer there to stroke through your (h/l) locks to sooth you. It felt like a life time had come and gone. And fuck, it hurt. You should have been ready, always ready, for the day Sam and all of his glory would burst in and take Dean back to where he belongs. And you let him. You didn’t fight it when Sam had finally tracked you down while that idiotic man hunted for Dean over some thirteen year vendetta. Sam threatened you and you just let him take Dean away with tears in your white eyes, revealing what you are, but never who you are. He called you names, a monster, Crowley’s bitch, and that had nearly cost him his head if not for him being Dean’s brother.
Your mark cries out every night as you avoid Crowley, not wanting to hear him bitch and moan at you. But eventually, even that comes to pass. And you’re just-
Your existence no longer has that warmth. Your mark is cold and leaves an emptiness in your chest.
But you go on about your life, stealing moments to watch him from afar, always turning corners when he suddenly turns in your direction. Not yours. Not yours, You repeat the mantra again and again and try to focus on breathing. You try to put the memories of your time together in a vault, try to leave it there where not even you can reach it, but it isn’t enough. Sometimes when you close your eyes, you can still hear him singing in the shower, can hear that laugh that makes you feel calm and at peace with yourself. You should be angry at Sam, at Castiel, at all them for taking away your reason for being, but you can only think of them with a grudging resignation and the knowledge that it was where he always belonged.
Folding up another pair of pants, you carefully begin to pack your suitcase, ready to move on from the motel to another state, maybe even another continent. You hear the knock before it hits your door, mouth curling down into a frown because you assume it’s Crowley and you don’t want to deal with him. You made it clear the last time you had the misfortune of being in his presence that your assistance would no longer be offered. You leave the suitcase alone and head for the door, hand poised on the knob. The moment you turn it, you duck out of the way when Sam comes pummeling in, knife hand ready as the other one remains in an arm band. You sigh and turn away, heading back to continue packing. Sam seems shocked at how nonchalant you are as you practically ignore him and continue packing.
“Sam, I don’t know why you’re here… I don’t really care either. But I don’t know where Crowley is or whoever it is you’re looking for. I’m not a spy. You’ve already gotten Dean back… what more could you want.” It’s not a question, but a statement. You don’t even understand why he’d waste his time when Dean needs him.
Dean would always need him and you knew it, accepted it a long time ago and you were happy that no matter how awful things became, they did have each other. Sam stands there and when he realizes that you aren’t a threat, he slips the knife into his pocket. He looks like a lost puppy but you don’t mention it or comment on it. Dean probably called him that all the time growing up.
“You’re… uh… (y/n)?” He sounds almost confused.
“That’s my name, Sammy Sam. But seriously, what do you need? I’m trying to get as far away from all this as possible-”
“You- But-” Sam starts, standing even taller than Dean, which makes him an even bigger giant compared to you. “Okay, I get it. You had your thing with him or whatever- and-” Where is he even going with this?
“I wouldn’t usually do this, but Dean is…. Not so normal and I know that it’s because he misses you. And you’re a demon, okay great, I know, I get it, but I don’t think you were keeping him away from me on purpose. I don’t think you work for Crowley, not the way you easily handed him over. I don’t know what happened between you two and he didn’t even want me to find you… but I’m here.”
You pause. Sam not trying to kill you is a blessing all on its own. It hurt that Dean wouldn’t talk about you, but then again, you know him. You saw the darkest parts of himself bare and you still loved him for it. And maybe that’s why Sam is here, trying to reason with a demon, because he knows that you love his brother.
“Sam, I don’t know where you’re going with this or … if I even want to. But please get to the point. Unlike your brother, I enjoy flights and I have one very soon for somewhere far,” You sigh out, finishing a fold of a shirt- It’s one of his band shirts he left behind. But it was one you had slept in enough times, had grown comfortable walking around with nothing else on but it. Your thievery came with a meaning.
“Don’t leave. Not like this. I’m sorry that I came in, I wrecked what you had. But I needed to get my brother back-”
“I know… I understand.”
“-but he loves you.”
Ah, that wretched human emotion digs its claws into you once more at the drop of a pin. It’s never left you before. You love Dean Winchester; you’d take a bullet for him if that means anything. The bullet wouldn’t kill you or anything but it would fucking hurt.
“Sam, thank you for coming. For doing this. It may come as a surprise, but I feel too much when it comes to your brother. I’ve had his mark on every single body I possess because it’s attached to my soul. I can’t get away from it, but I can do this. Dean needs you a lot more than he needs some demon hanging off of him. I know about Lisa and how hard it was to let her go. He doesn’t need me when he has you, Sam.” It breaks what’s left of your heart to have to admit it to yourself. Temporary.. You always knew that it would come down to this. Sam is a constant, an unwavering force at Dean’s side. Being with you had been great, it would seem, but it would be better to just go.
“(y/n)... Don’t pull a Dean. Don’t be like him. Don’t run away from being happy. It’s unconventional but I can’t say it isn’t real. You love him and he loves you. In this life, we gotta go for it. You being a demon is a minor detail at this point.” You didn’t expect Sam to be so forthcoming about you being with his brother. Would it really be okay to grasp onto the only strand of happiness ever given to you?
“Sam, are you sure about this? When Dean was a demon, things were different… And now that he’s himself, how are you so sure he won’t stake me in a heartbeat?”
“Just trust me. He won’t try anything if it’s you.”
And that’s how he convinced you to forgo the plane ticket to head for the bunker. You offered to close your eyes but Sam said it was alright to keep your eyes open. You had become an unofficial member of the team, it seems. Still, you close your eyes with your mind in your throat and your tongue heavier than lead. Leaning back in the impala, you realize this is the first time you’ve had the chance to be inside Dean’s precious ‘baby.’ The impala even smells like Dean, leather jackets, and junk food. You don’t know how long you stay in that passenger seat beside Sam, eyes peering out the window as you pass state lines and venture ever closer to the bunker they live in. How far has Sam traveled just to find you?
“How did you find me?” You asked during a gas break and a chance for Sam to rest and recharge. You sit in another dingy motel, far too used to it after your time with Dean, and fiddle with your fingers as you laid back on your pillow. Sam sits at the desk with his laptop out, most likely looking at a different case.
“I found some of your hair on his clothes. Then it was the peonies.” Ah, the peonies. After he found out it was your favorite type of flower, he’d stolen at least three dozen of them and some had been left all over his things when you had a flower fight, “And he wrote a small note about you. Very incriminating stuff on his part. He said you smell like honey and apple pie.” You choke on a snort. It could only mean that you had Bonded with him on an unconscious level. Only Bonds can smell a scent that is distinctly their other half, it’s all of the things they love and are attracted to. Dean smelled like fresh grass and strawberries with a hint of peony as a backdrop. He smelled absolutely lovely.
“Ah, he is such a dweeb,” You smile softly to yourself and you feel Sam’s gaze glance at you for just that moment before he’s tapping away at his laptop again, “You think he’s moping right now?”
“Definitely. He’s been moody since the last time he saw you. He’s not a demon anymore and he’s still like that. He misses you. He doesn’t like getting all emotional but I could tell he was holding back when he said nothing happened. That’s always code for a shit ton did happen.”
“Sounds about right,” You murmur, tugging the blankets up and over your head. You have no need for sleep, but you like to close your eyes and drift off into memories. The time Dean dragged you into motorcycle racing for fun, the late nights spent out in the woods to see the best patch of stars in the universe. The sweet, harsh kisses creeping up your chest to toy with your mark, knowing how you would respond .
Sam ‘wakes’ you in the morning to get back on the road. You are close, you can suddenly sense it in the way your chest burns with a renewed strength. But you can also sense Castiel and you aren’t sure how the archangel will feel about housing another demon who isn’t Crowley. But you would worry about that later, just focused on reaching Dean as fast as possible. You miss him; you truly miss him. You tried not to think about him, but the closer you are to seeing him only expands the amount you miss him by. What a little puppet you. Everyone who orbits the Winchesters die, and you would surely come to pass too.
But what a way to go.
You didn’t mind it as long as you could be with Dean until your untimely end. You had been alive for a very, very long time to begin with. Dying by his side would not be so bad, and not so soon if you had any say in it.
Dean is- angry, you can sense it through the air through the makeshift Bond that appeared to have formed between the two of you during your time together. He is still very much Dean, but less crazy, less brazen. There is less edge and a wildness no longer in his eyes. Regular Dean is just plain angry. You guessed Sam told him nothing of his little drop by and it was just a shock to see you again. Or maybe he really was angry, maybe he was just in love with you because he was a demon and now that he was a simple human, the love had grown to disgust. You’re too close to this, too human for this; it fucking hurts to think that he didn’t want this.
The yelling between them is brief because Sam says he’s taking a walk after a few biting remarks about doing this “for you! Because you’re too much of a little coward to go get her yourself. Grow up, Dean. ” Dean breathes in nice and slow, nostrils flared, when he turns his sights on you. You look afraid, all small and fragile and oh God, he feels the guilt punch him in the throat and he can’t do anything else but stare. He tried to rationalize it, tried to talk himself out of the obvious fact that you love him and he loves you, and now that you are here, he can’t do that anymore. His feet begin to drift your way where you stand beside the long table, and you aren’t sure whether to get closer or farther away.
When he stands before you, you tip your head up to peer at him, biting down on your lower lip. He looks so confused, lost, hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. But it’s enough to set him in motion, taking a step closer to draw you into his chest. You close your eyes, listen to that strong heart heat, that blood rushing and pumping, smell the fresh scent of a meadow on him. He’s so warm that your chest fills to the brim with heat.
“Why did you come?” He asks softly, and it doesn’t sound like he regrets having you here.
“Because I told you, I loved you before you were a demon… and I still love you now.. I do. I just wanted you to get back to your normal life without having a demon around… but Sam brought up a great point. I shouldn’t run away from you. I don’t want to. I’m not going to disappear on you, Winchester. No matter what comes at you.” You are sure of it, sure that you will stay here, with him, as in love with him as you were the day before and before that and since the day you saw the mark on your chest in the mirror.
“Then I suppose I wouldn’t mind you staying here, white eyes. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I just let you leave now. I love you, (y/n). I love you for who you are. You are good. I know it’s not going to be easy and being out here, in the open, isn’t normal to you, but I won’t let any fucking monster touch you. Crowley can rot in hell, literally.” That earns a laugh from you as you breathe in his smell and catch a hand onto his leather jacket.
“Then we have a deal, green eyes.”
Joining Team Free Will had it’s merits, you could dismantle Crowley and everything he stood for, face off with that bitch, the Darkness. Lucifer. See losses before your very eyes that humble you with a hand that refuses to release yours. Your Bonded, he has no tattoo, nothing to keep him tethered to you but his own love.
And it is more than enough.