Buy Me Dinner First [Dean Winchester x Reader]

19} Drawn In

Heads up, this is a longer chapter so enjoy!
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"It's not gunna work, (y/n), don't waste your time." Bobby grunts, rolling himself away from you and into his study.

"You don't know that, just let me try!" You whine, following hot on his (w)heels.

"If Castiel couldn't do it then what makes you think you can?" He grumbles, busying himself with a dusty book pertaining to the impending apocalypse.

"Because I'm not Castiel. What have we got to lose, Bobby?" You sigh, walking around the chair to stand in front of him.

He doesn't say no so you take that as a prompt to reach your hand out, your fingertips brushing lightly against his forehead. Your eyes flutter shut as you focus, feeling the energy draining from your soul and flowing down your fingertips as you push it all the way down to Bobby's spine, the tendrils of divine energy tentatively twisting towards the separation in the nerves.

You can feel your hand begin to shake as you focus harder, a warm substance trickling from your nose which you hastily ignore as you open your eyes and set them on Bobby, his face shocked as he watches his own foot twitch. You set your jaw and your entire body tenses as you push harder, the blood flowing steadily out of your nose now and trickling down onto the fabric of Bobby's jeans, drawing his attention to your bloody, pained face as he grabs your hand and moves it away from him.

"That's enough." He grunts.

"What? I almost had it." You protest, chest heaving as you breathe heavily and your hand flies to your face to stem the nosebleed.

"You're not strong enough yet, you'll hurt yourself, girl."

"I won't give up, Bobby. I'm going to fix this." You promise, tearing up a little.

I wasn't here for you. Again. And now you're in a wheelchair. This is all my fault.

"Quit babying me, I'm a grown man and I can handle my own problems. Now tell me why I get six voicemails a day from Sam and Dean asking where you are." His tone shifts quickly from concern to indignation, hating to be patronised almost as much as he hates being harassed by phone calls.

You ran away from Dean about a month ago, you haven't looked back since. You couldn't.

You also couldn't sleep but what's new there.

"It's nothing, I just came to my senses and got out of there. I never should have let them get close enough to find out who I am." You shrug, noting the frustration on Bobby's face as he tilts his head.

"You idjit. You're so cynical you can't see that those two boys actually care about you? They've lost every damn thing they've ever had and you're just going to run out on them?"

"It's better for them this way. I promised John-"

"You don't owe John a damn thing! He's the last person you should be looking to please and you know it. After everything he did to you." Bobby snaps, his words making you flinch as they pierce your thick skin and sink in to the bone, your mind clouding with his rational thoughts. Why did you give a shit what John said? He wasn't exactly your hero.

"Maybe you're right, but-" before you can finish your sentence, you're overcome by a sudden weightlessness and when your eyes open again, you're in a hospital ward, the sterile smell and the uniformed workers giving it away. "What the?"

You move forwards and frown, looking down to find yourself in blue scrubs instead of the jeans and hoodie you'd been wearing originally. Cautiously, you head down the corridor and follow signs towards the reception area, hearing two familiar, hushed voices and holding back a smile.