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Have you ever wondered why Dean doesn’t let dogs into his car? It’s not the allergies, fleas or the fact that it could bust up the upholstery, in fact it’s your fault. After you left, after Dixie, he couldn’t face another dog’s hair defacing the scratched seats or sharing an afternoon burger lunch with him.
He couldn’t,

And he wouldn’t.

Without Sam, you really helped Dean, it was true what he said, about not wanting to do it alone. In fact, going to Sam was partly because he was alone again. Busy with thoughts of Stanford, Sam probably didn’t notice the doggy smell of the Impala. It never even crossed his mind.
Dean however did, still does, on days where the backseat leather gets a little wet, there’s still some white ash Border-Collie hair in the cracks somewhere. Even after every restoration, the dog of yours was still embroided into the Impala.
They were your babies, the car and the dog. If you were anymore of a family the car would have slept under the same roof as the rest of you did. Dean could’ve continued contently with you, Dixie and Baby. But loyalty to family found its way forward.
And you understand.
You knew he’s put is Dad at the back of his mind until you weren’t his number one priority, at the time, he couldn’t imagine anything else being any more important.
It killed Dean.
Killed him to abandon his father, a man he had so faithfully followed for years. You let him leave, by taking your gun, your dog, your bag and your love out of the motel door. Dixie whined and grovelled begging to go back to the master she loved, the back seat she shared while listening to the storm and the lightning and the warm bed where she snuggled in between the two people the dog valued most. Dean would frown at Dixie, so adamant at interrupting cuddles for her own warmth. You’d kiss her forehead and her tail would turn a million miles an hour before you’d kiss Dean good night. She’d interrupt though, licking your connected lips and Dean would tease her by holding her snout together gently with her tongue sticking out at a funny angle. With Dixie in his grasp Dean could finally kiss you properly and snuggle down for sleep. Hunting never walked into bed. In bed they were safe, in bed they could dream of a life together. In bed they know they will wake up in the morning.

In the Impala currently, where Sam was blinking wildly with a concussion, Dean didn’t know if he’d even make morning.
He’d just run the ’67 Chevy off the road and into a tree to narrowly avoid what Dean had assumed to be a deer.
“Sammy? How you feeling?”
“I think… There may be a possibility of me throwing up.” He muttered placing his hands over his face and tilting his head back.
Dean could feel something sticking through his side and he was scared to look down. It was painful but he was pinned into the front seat and the metallic skewer didn’t seem movable. He spared a sad glance at the steel framework of his Baby that took so long to perfectly bend.
“Sorry.” He whispers. The pain worsens and soon Dean is blinking a losing battle against unconsciousness.
“Dean? There’s a-a dog. By the window.” Sam grunts trying to move but finding it easier to ignore the dog and slump further into the forked leather seats.
“DIXIE!” Someone calls out. The dog invading Sam’s lap stretches over to lick Dean’s cheek.
“Heya Di.” Dean coughs, blood dyed an inch of its ashen coloured hair. Footsteps approach and cursing ensues.
“SHIT. Shit. Dean? Dean, can you hear me? Sam? Shit! Hang on, I’m calling an ambulance. Dixie! Down, damn it.”
Dean’s green eyes spark with pain before fading out into unconsciousness, your name dying on his lips.

***

You continue to chew at the edge of your mouth. It was bleeding, numb and gross but sitting anxiously between the man you were sill awfully in love with and his brother; there wasn’t much else to do.
There was an odd jerk in the activity screen as Dean’s heart beat increased. Your eyes widen and the hand you had left in his was quickly removed. If he woke up with your hand in his grasp… well, you weren’t going to go there.
You were lucky, his green eyes blinked into life. There was a few seconds of registration, his mind processing what hurt, what didn’t. In conclusion his appendix was missing, completely, the drive shaft had taken a chunk of him with it. Blood loss had caused him to be drained and sleepy for a week. Sam was fine, frankly, his concussion wore off and he was very interested in you.
“I told the doctors you’re my son in law and you crashed after swerving to avoid a deer.” You had told the guy covered in bed hair and cursing the sun. He looked over at his brother and sighed.

“He’s gonna be okay right?”
“Yeah, of course.” You nod returning to biting your cheek.
“Hunter?”
“Yeah.”
“Your dog?”
“Yep.”
“Do you know me?” You raise your eyebrow.
“Yes. Of course I do.” You fiddle with your thumbs momentarily, “Do you know me?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Dean never mentioned me? Ever? A picture or something?” Sam looked surprised, he shuffled round to face you and his brother, tipping his legs over the bed.
“No, should he have?”
“Not really I guess.” You shrug brushing the whole subject off.
“You were a thing, my brother and you?” You nod in reply and Sam scoffs. “Really?”
“Yes, Sam, but that was ages ago.”
“When?”
“Almost nine years now.” He fists his hands and leans on his knees.
“Oh.” is all he manages before silence ensued. Around five awkward minutes later the questions started.
“So you have a dog?”
“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
“Dixie.”
“How did you meet Dean?”
“The pound.”
“As in the animal pound?”
“Is there any other pound?”
“So he was working a case by the pound?”
“No, he followed me in there.”
“Why?”
“Because he needed to tell me that I was being targeted by a Leeshi. I knew that, of course, but he was insistent in helping and we sort of hit it off.” You smile at fond memories. Sam notices.
“So, where did you go on your first date?-“

The questions continued.

For days.

Today, however, Sam had an angel to meet at the bus station and you were happy sitting next to Dean bored but content. His wound had healed marginally and by the jump in his heart he may be fading into consciousness. The thought that he might die didn’t even cross your thoughts.
It didn’t have to either.
“You kept Dixie.” He states bringing your attention up.
“You wouldn’t have liked her hanging around anyway.” You shrug, Dean sighs.
“How’ve you been?”
“Fine.” You reply, “Always fine.”
“Me too.” Dean spares you a soft grin.
“Is Sam-“
“He’s fine. Went to go pick up your angelic buddy or something.” You say quickly. Dean’s green eyes scanned you over and over. Something was wrong, it had to be. You weren’t yourself.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
“Really, though.”
“No.” You stand and go to leave, “Sam left an hour ago. Should be back soon.” Dean’s confusion worsened.
“No, wait, wait! (y/n)! Get your ass back in here and talk to me!”
You stop and turn back to Dean. His eyes were desperate, lack of mobility made him feel so venerable. Memories flood you, they always do whenever someone mentioned him, saw him or reminded you of him. The cocky smile, hard worked hands, calm collected voice and ability to make you feel like the best thing in his life.
It was so easy.
You walk back, head dipped.
“I left her in the car, gotta get her soon.”
“I know, but talk to me at least. I haven’t seen you since the day you walked out the door. I don’t think you understand what that did to me.” He muttered.
“You were fine with Sam, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Fine? I was a mess (y/n), you don’t get to just leave! Not again at least.” He watched you sniff, shake your head.
“Your family needed you Dean.”
“But I needed you.”
“No.” you shake your head, willing away tears. “You didn’t. Don’t make it out like I was the one who left without a reason.”
“You still left.” He replies noticing Sam and Cas stop at the window. He tries to force down the croak in his voice.
“For you.”
“Now who’s making who the bad guy?” he huffs.
“Dean-“
“Don’t Dean me. Please, just say goodbye properly before you go.” He pleads, “No one says goodbye properly before they leave me. Just, be the exception, for me.” You nod walk over and take a long breath. In a small second of courage you lent down and met his lips.
Slowly, carefully, lovingly, as if he’d break away if you pushed any harder.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tell you what you wanted to know.
Pulling away and trotting out the door you know that you haven’t said goodbye. Sam turns to stop you, convince you otherwise but Cas stops him.
“Wait,” he says, “just wait.”

***

*click click click click*
“(y/n)?”
“Someone needs to say hello first.” You smile looking down at the grey border collie by your feet. She was old now, but she remembered Dean. Moving around was a little tedious but she managed to stand and lean on the bed. You pick her up the rest of the way and Dean looks up and down the dog bewildered.
“Dixie.” He whispers happily, accepting her licks and giving her a hug. There was a splitting pain in his side but at the moment he didn’t care.
“A dog?” Cas asks curiously petting the tail of the grey mass cautiously.
“Yeah, my dog.” Dean replies with a laugh ruffling the dog all over.
“Our dog.” You remind.
“You’re staying?” Dean asks. He looked up half scared half overjoyed.

“If you’ll have me again.” You mumble, “I’ve got some amends to make.” He smiles.

“What amends? My family is back together.”