Chapter 15

281 11 57
                                    

Slash Fiction

I sank down onto the couch next to Dean, curling into his side as he clicked through channels on the tv. "Dean?" I asked softly, spinning the ring around my finger.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Do you think...Do you think I'm doing okay...as a mother?" I asked. "Do you think they know I love them?"

"Yeah, of course. What's wrong, Si? What's going on in your head?" Dean brushed his fingers through my hair as I stared at the wall of the cabin. 

"Dean...I never told anyone this, not even you, but..." Tears stung my eyes. "When I was fifteen, I met my mother. She had tracked me down. I was young and dumb and decided to meet with her."

"And?" he pressed softly, clicking off the tv as he turned his body to face mine. 

"I was at a weird spot where a part of me hung onto the idea of her. A part of me still loved her, I think." I shut my eyes. "Dean...she was the person who was supposed to love me the most and she said--she said she couldn't stand to be around me in an off-handed remark kind of way. That hurt worse than anything. I had never felt so...so worthless.  All I ever wanted was to be loved. And I don't want them to feel that way, not ever."

Tears were slipping down my face and being quickly brushed away by the soft touch of the pad of his thumb. "Hey, hey, look at me," Dean said softly, tilting my face upward slightly as I opened my eyes to meet his. "They don't. You know how I know? Because I saw how badly you hurt. From the moment you could understand what was going on around you, you hurt. And I don't see that when I look at them."

I wrapped my arms around him, sinking into the only place I'd ever felt truly safe.

"Saige, listen to me, you are loved, you always have been. And you will be loved until the day I die. I'll always love you," Dean whispered, fingers brushing through my hair. He kissed my head. "Get the keys, we're going out."

"Where?" I asked. "It's the middle of the night."

"We'll figure that out when we're in the car."

_____

"And how are my three favorite meatsicles?" Chet--the Leviathan we had brought back to the cabin--as we walked into the basement where it was chained up.

"Is he still sucking air?" Dean asked as we stopped by the table that was filled with an array of different monster repellants and weapons.

"Greatest hits didn't do the trick, I'm down to B-sides and deep cuts," Bobby replied. 

"Better figure something out quick. That whammy that witch dude put on him only lasts a few days," Dean stated. "He gets his spinach back, we're gonna end up having to drop a car on him."

"Actually, Edgar walked away from that car," Chet informed us. "He's fine. Well, he's a little pissed at you, but..." he sighed as we all shared a look. "Oh, you didn't know?"

"You shut your cake trap," Dean snapped.

"Bobby, you've been using all this stuff and he still won't talk?" Sam asked, gesturing to the table.

"Well, there's gotta be something." I shrugged.

Dean's hand left my waist as he crossed the room, pulling a stool up to the chair where the Leviathan was chained up. He sat down.

"Huddle over, coach?" Chet mocked. 

"How'd you find us?"

"It was easy. I used pattern-recognition software and a basic heuristic algorithm to track your aliases."

Healed {Dean Winchester 7}Where stories live. Discover now