Fighting This (DeanxReader)

Mentions none specific self harm.

Doctors would have categorized you with depression, but this wasn't mental health- it was a lifestyle.

Each hunter had their own sob story- someone they had loved, dying at a monsters hands- and you were no different. You sought revenge, and hurt even more when you realised it wouldn't fill the giant gaping hole in your heart. Just like the rest. You drank your way through the days and pushed yourself to your absolute limits, never letting up. Just like the rest.

But you were different from the rest- you coped in a way that made people want to run. You carried so much weight and emotional baggage it was crushing you, it was destructive. It wasn't just the pain and anger, but the self loathing and loneliness too, and all the other feelings that you can't put into words that get across the sheer sadness that grips you.

These feelings were corrosive, they're eating you up. Its slow, dangerous and consuming, but despite its destructive fashion- no one saw it. You had perfected your mask. And sometimes the boys actually made you so happy, you would laugh and giggle and the tears were caused by the brothers jokes and not the emptiness full of pain.

You would look in the mirror and you were disgusted. You would wake in sweats and you would be terrified. You would stare at the damage done to yourself by yourself everyday, and the one word that always came to mind- was worthless.

The one word that came to Dean's mind? Beautiful.

To him your body was to be worshipped. To him you were strong, admirable and clever and simply stunning.

He can't stand the way you see yourself.. The way you hate yourself.

Today was a bad day. Today was one of those days that physically took strength to endure. You were in the bathroom sobbing, you couldn't see through the tears, and you felt too drained to stand,  causing you to slid to the icy tile floor of this weeks stingy motel. Even breathing was difficult.

But today was also the day Dean saved you from your own inner demons.

Hearing your struggles through the stupidly-thin-might-as-well-not-be-there walls, Dean rushes into the bathroom. He takes you into his arms and at first you struggle, pushing and beating on his chest with what little energy you have- its pathetic. Taking mere moments for you to give in, you slump into his embrace. It takes five minutes just to get your breathing under control, and another seven for the cries to finally stop.

You have never wanted to bother Dean with this side of you, you didn't want to hassle him with your problems- Dean was only ever meant to see the good side and the genuine laughter he coaxed from you on the good days. You loved Dean so much it hurts, and you couldn't lose him to yourself...

However Dean had no intention of letting you go.

“You are going to fight this. You hear me? We will fight this! Because I am not losing you- losing you would.. would end me, okay? Baby each curve and angle is beautiful..”  Dean takes your face so gently and with so much care into his callous palms “You're smart and strong- no, don't you look at me like that! You're one of the strongest people I know. And you know how I know that? You're still going.. You're in pain- I've seen it! And yet here you are. I'll never fully get what we're dealing with here, but I'm here and I ain't going anywhere, okay?”

“But..H-how can you fight what you don't understand, Dean?”

“And when has a lack of knowledge ever stopped us? Plus, you're armed with a weapon stronger that the most damming of emotions.. Love.. Mine specifically.”