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The box you were lifting was made from cardboard and it was heavy. Several things were sticking out of it, including a large iron pipe. Very carefully you walked down the stairs, further into the garage. You promised to clean up the boxes scattered around the bunker. Sam was rearranging the books and Dean was somewhere in the kitchen.
It had been about three months since you had met the brothers. They were hunting in the town where you lived and one night the monster they wanted to kill was after you. Unfortunately, they had come just too late and you were injured. The monster was killed, and you were taken to the hospital. Since your recovery would take longer than a few days and you had no job, no family to care for you, Sam had offered to let you stay in the bunker with them, at least until you could stand on your own two feet again.
You always suspected that Dean wasn't too happy about it. Dean, the older brother... you couldn't place him. He was gruff, blunt, curt and basically a huge jerk. He scared you with his aggressive demeanor, but he had not hurt you. He just was…a jerk. But you didn't want to be ungrateful and his brother was very nice and friendly. Sam, like yourself, was a bookworm. It didn't take long before you started helping with research. Sam had told you in confidence that Dean bore the mark of Cain. He had briefly explained the effect it had on Dean, and that sometimes it was better to avoid the gruff hunter.
You were all for self-preservation, so most of the time, you let Dean be, helped where you could and sometimes you cooked dinner. This morning you had offered to clean up some loose clutter, so you started in good spirits. A number of boxes were already neatly stored in the garage. You had carefully walked around the Impala every time. Dean loved that car, imagine if it got damaged...and it was your fault. You had learned that the Impala was sacred.
With the heavy box in your hands, you very carefully walked down the stairs. You felt with your toes if another step was coming and you carefully put your feet down. You had counted 5 steps, you had 5 steps. After carefully sensing that you were really there, you heaved a sigh of excitement as you descended the stairs. You took another step forwards, sprained your ankle, staggered, tried to keep the box upright, but with a bang, you fell yourself, as the box with the contents tumbled towards the car on the ground.
You got up carefully. That hurt. You could stand, but your ankle hurt terribly and you were covered in dust. You patted your clothes with your hands to get a little cleaner, when you realized the box you were carrying had hit the Impala. The iron pipe that had been inside the box had made a huge scratch on the side of the car, just below the mirror. Your face became white as a sheet of paper. Shit. Dean was going to kill you. He always made you feel so small and helpless and you knew he knew you were afraid of him.
Your first thought was that you wouldn't say anything. You would clean up the box, put everything away neatly and pretend nothing had happened. While you were thinking whether that was really a good idea, you heard the door of the bunker slam shut. Sam, or Dean, had left, or someone had come. You looked at the scratch. Damn it. After some thought, you decided to find Sam, tell him what happened and ask him how to handle Dean. You valued your life…so Sam was the safer option.
You left the garage and walked through the bunker. It was quiet and the hallways made you feel claustrophobic. You looked into the room with all the books, no Sam. You looked into the space that held the telescope, nobody was there.
‘Sam!’ you called.
‘Sam left.’
You gulped at the sound of Dean’s voice, behind you. You didn’t even hear him approaching you. You quickly turned around and faced the man who was about to murder you. Swallowing thickly, you kept your eyes glued to the floor.
‘Something wrong?’
Shit…shit…time to face the music.
‘Uhm…yes. I…uhm…well, you see, uhm…I was uhm, cleaning up and moving some…uhm…boxes.’ You stammered and your face heated up. Damn it, why was he making you so insecure?
‘And?’ Dean made a move-it-along gesture with his hand.
‘Please…don’t be angry, I will pay for fixing it. I swear.’
Silence…Dean didn’t speak, you didn’t speak. You slowly raised your head, to look at Dean and the look on his face scared the living daylights out of you. His face was set in stone, his eyes blazed a cold fury and he had his fists clenched to his side. You decided to step back a few paces.
‘Fix what?’ he bit out. It was more of a growl.
‘I'm sorry…please…it was an accident.’ You whispered, your voice had decided to vacate the premises.
Before you had time to respond, Dean was walking by you, heading towards the garage. You turned around…debating what to do. Before you could make a decision, you heard him cursing and things were thrown at the floor. You started trembling. You had managed to piss off one the most frightening men you’ve ever met. Who also happened to have a murderous mark on his arm. Oh my God, you were gonna die…
An eerie silence followed. Until you heard his footsteps. Slowly walking back to you. When you laid your eyes upon the hunter, your heart latterly stopped beating for a few seconds. Pure, unadulterated rage. Directed at you. Not thinking it through, you came out of your stupor and made a run for it. Which of course, wasn’t as fast as you wanted, because your ankle hurt like hell.
As your fear took over, all rational thoughts went with it, and instead of going up the stairs to flee, you stumbled to your room and bolted the door.
Less than half a minute later your door was kicked in and Dean walked in. You were so scared, that you walked back into the wall, where you could only watch as you came closer. You held out our hands and started sobbing.
‘Please, Dean…please, don’t…don’t hurt me, please, I'm sorry, I am…please…’
Dean walked over to you and batted your hands away. You cried out and pushed his chest. He was now fully in your space and you felt his breath on your face. ‘Please…’ you begged.
‘Look at me.’
Tears were falling and you still had your hands pressed against his chest. He had you pressed up against the wall and you felt so small. The order he gave you…look at me…you couldn’t. So you shook your head. ‘Please don’t…hurt me…please.’
‘LOOK. AT. ME!’
With a cry, you tried to make yourself even smaller. This was it, you were so dead.
‘God damnit woman, look at me right now.’
Two fingers were placed under your chin. He pushed your face up, so you would have no choice but to look him in the eyes. His eyes no longer held the fury of earlier, but his gaze was cold.
‘What exactly do you think I am going to do to you?’ He still sounded angry, but also curious.
‘K…kill…kill me…’ your stammered.
‘I see.’
Dean took a step back, holding his hands up. You slid down the wall, until you sat on the floor, as you held your legs. ‘It was an accident, I slipped.’ You spoke softly. To your utter surprise, Dean came to sit across from you. He sat cross-legged.
‘Sam told me that the mark makes you…different and you looked so mad…I thought…’
‘That I would hurt ya…I get it.’ He sighed deeply. ‘I am not gonna lie, sweetheart, I am pissed. But I am not going to hurt ya.’
Sweetheart?
With the sleeve of your sweater, you wiped away your tears. ‘I can fix the car. If you want.’ You offered. Dean ignored your statement and pointed at your ankle. ‘Do I need to look at it?’
‘It’s fine…hurts a bit, but I…’ you couldn’t finish your sentence, for the hunter had grabbed your foot and dragged your leg into his lap. ‘Hey!’
He gave you a look, that shut you up. With a tenderness you didn’t expect from him, he took your shoe off and removed your sock. Your ankle was badly swollen. Dean pressed a bit, causing you to protest. ‘Sprained. You’ll need to rest. And an icepack.’
He stood from the floor and offered his hands. Confused, you grabbed them and he lifted you up. He then put his left arm under your legs and hoisted you up in his arms. ‘You really don’t have to carry me, Dean. I can walk.’
‘Uhuh…’ came his reply. He carried you bridal stile and walked over to the kitchen where he put you down on the table. ‘Stay here, let me get some ice.’ You were so confused, but you did what he asked and waited for him to come back with the aforementioned icepack. He gently put in on your ankle and looked at you. ‘I'm sorry that I scared you. The car…she means a lot to me. So…’ He hesitated and you got it. ‘I really am sorry. I will fix it, or pay for you to get it fixed, I promise.’
‘Don’t worry. I fix it myself. Just…uh…be careful okay?’ He looked from your face to the mark on his arm. ‘It makes me…angrier than I normally am. It wants to kill, it wants me to spill blood.’
Curious, you looked at the mark. ‘So, then…why, uhm…why am I still alive?’ It sounded braver than you were feeling, but you wanted to know.
‘Because I like you.’
Silence stretched between you. His words hung in the air, almost too casual for the tension that had filled the room just moments before. You blinked, unsure if you heard him correctly. Dean Winchester liked you?
He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting away. ‘Look, I know I’m… not easy. And this mark? It’s a bitch. It makes me feel like I’m barely holding it together most days.’ His voice was rough, but there was an honesty there that you hadn’t heard from him before.
‘Then why—why didn’t it take over just now?’ you asked softly.
Dean let out a bitter chuckle. ‘Hell if I know. Maybe… maybe you remind me that I’m still human.’ He sat down beside you again, this time less guarded. ‘I’m pissed about Baby, yeah. But hurting you? That’s not me. Not even with this damned mark.’
You swallowed, feeling a strange sense of relief and confusion all at once. ‘I thought you hated me.’
‘Never,’ he said firmly. ‘Annoyed? Sure. But hate? Nah.’
The icepack on your ankle had started to numb the pain, but Dean’s words settled somewhere deeper. ‘So, what now?’ you whispered.
Dean stood up, offering a small smirk. ‘Now? You stay off that ankle, and I’ll fix my girl. And maybe… we’ll figure this out. Together.’
It wasn’t a grand confession or a perfect resolution, but it was real. And for now, that was enough.