So I started Supernatural a few weeks ago and surprise, surprise, I've fallen in love with another character, Dean. So here's my first Dean Winchester one-shot in this book, and I might write more along the way.

Reader has superpowers. Not set in any episode.

Female reader.

~~~

Working with the Winchesters was a roller coaster, to say the least. Every day was always a mystery, and I never knew what I (or the brothers) would get into, whether it be something supernatural or something like a prank. (Most of the time, it was the former. Obviously.) And usually, I'd have to use my powers to fix whatever damage the boys had done to each other or received, drawing out the cuts and bruises and scratches until they were no more.

It was a bit of a shock to me when the brothers found out that I wasn't "normal" by any standards and still offered to take me in anyway. They had found me after I had just stabbed a shifter, my hand and blade coated in blood. I had a few scratches here and there, and was slightly shocked when I saw a couple of good-looking guys standing there looking just as surprised as me, if not more.

Well, well, well. If it ain't the Winchester boys.

Pretty famous, that Sam and Dean.

"Yeah, us too." the taller guy said.

"So, you, uh--" the shorter guy began.

"Been tracking the damn thing since last week. Stupid tricky, these shifters." I explained, shrugging and wiping my hand and blade on the shifter's clothes. I pulled out my bandanna I kept in my pocket, wiping at the cuts on my face and returning it to the way it was before my hunt.

"So now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some business to attend to." I finished, and saluted them with a small smile before stuffing the bandanna back into my pocket and heading off to my motorcycle and driving off. "Maybe I'll see ya later, Winchesters."

"You think we'll see her again?" Sam had asked.

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. Hope we do, though. She could help us. Plus, she's cute."

Sam scoffed as he whacked his brother's arm. "Dude! Seriously? Did you not see her wipe her face and her cuts disappear like they were nothing but marker?!"

~~~

I met them again when I had just dealt with a whacko hunter. Something Gordon what's-his-face. Had me in a bit of a pickle, asking me where the Winchester brothers were before holding a gun up to my face and threatening to shoot if I didn't tell him. How rude of him; I was just finishing up a bottle of beer when I rudely felt a gun pointed at the nape of my neck, forcing me to turn around and face my potential attacker.

"Listen, bub. I work alone. Like you. So how the hell would I know where those crazy brothers are?" I shrugged. "Plus, I tend not to keep contact with other people. Kinda bogs me down."

Gordon shot at me all of a sudden. Two shots, straight to the arm. I fell back against the counter, gripping my arm and hissing in pain.

"Thanks, someone's a bit trigger-happy." I muttered as he left.

Taking a few napkins from the counter, I wiped up the blood that was flowing out of my bullet wounds, carefully mopping up the excess before taking a deep breath and concentrating on getting the bullets out of my arm.

"That son of a bitch." I muttered as I went around behind the counter and dug around for a tool.

"Didn't expect to see you here." I heard a familiar voice call out.

I looked up from my searching to see the two brothers standing by the door of the bar.

"Well, if it ain't the brothers that got me two bullets in my arm and a bucketload of blood gushing from said bullets." I smirked.

"Whoa, two bullets and a what now?" Sam asked. "Who shot you?"

I held up my arm, wincing at the effort. "Gordon what's-his-face. Said he was looking for you."

"Wow. Okay. Uh...can I help you get those out?" he asked while sharing a look with Dean. A bit of history of run-ins with Gordon, then.

I shrugged my good arm. "Sure, why not. I could use the help."

So 20 minutes later, Sam is pulling out the second bullet and Dean's off behind the bar, looking around for whatever the hell it is he wants. 

"Thanks, Sam. I can take it from here." I said as I wiped blood from my arm yet again.

"Don't you need to bandage that? I mean, we have those too."

I laughed. "You'd be an idiot if you don't have bandages on you." I looked down at my arm. "No, I just need some quiet."

"Quiet? What for?" Dean called from behind the bar.

But I had already started healing my wounds, the blood that had seeped from the wound slowly retracting and the flesh started filling up until the skin was the last thing to close over and it looked as if nothing had happened.

I looked up at the brothers, Sam's face surprised and slightly awed, Dean's face unreadable.

"What?"

"You see or hear anything about a Yellow-Eyed Demon?" Sam asked in response.

"A what now?"

"Nevermind the demon. How can you do that?"

"What? The healing?" I shrugged. "It's just an ability I was born with. Healing my and others' wounds. That's only a part of it too. I can feel others' pain when I heal them, and I can sometimes take their painful feelings away."

"Really." Dean looked a little apprehensive, a little guarded at my words. "We could use someone like you on our team, though." Dean voiced, leaning across the counter, his apprehensive look gone, replaced with a charming smile. "Wanna join Sammy and I?"

I massaged my wound, feeling the soreness starting to creep in. "Sure, why not. You guys seem like you're in desperate need of leadership."

"Hey!" Dean's voice protested as I walked out of the bar. 

"You boys coming or what?"

~~~

That was a while ago. We had long since become well-acquainted with each other, often pranking each other for days on end. But most of the time, we went out on hunts and we did pretty well together. I would stay back most of the time, waiting for the brothers to turn up bloodied and bruised, and immediately going up to them for a hug to heal whatever they had.

Dean always refused to let me heal him, no matter how big or how small the wound was. He always shook his head and dodged me, heading off to the bathroom for a shower. Sam always apologized and welcomed my healing hugs. I could feel his worries and doubts, feel them seeping out of him as his wounds closed up and stopped bleeding.

"I don't know how you do it." he had said out of the blue one day while we were hugging. "Where do all my negative thoughts and feelings go?"

I offered him a sad smile, but didn't answer him. He didn't need one anyway, the smile was enough of an answer.

"(Y/N), you can't keep doing this. I know it helps us, but you're absorbing all our negative feelings."

"Eh, don't worry. I get rid of them."

"How?"

"That's a secret for another time." I answered with a mysterious smile.

~~~

The brothers were out on a reconnaissance mission now, picking up some info on the thing we were currently tracking, asking the locals around for their input. I had stayed back at the motel to do some research. I was always prepared to get up and fight at a moment's notice, a gun on the table by my hand, and a knife always strapped to my leg.

But what I wasn't prepared for was a knock on the door and a bloodied Sam limping in with an even bloodier Dean at his side, barely conscious.

"Holy shit, what happened?" I frantically gathered cleaning supplies from our bags and got to work wiping the excess blood from Dean as Sam carried his brother to the bed.

"We ran across the supposed creature we were hunting. Dean proposed we go after it since we were already there and it was so close." he told me. 

"Oh, you boys are idiots. You could've called me in!"

Sam nervously smiled. "Eh, well....what can I say?"

I laughed. "Well, at least you brought him back here. Do you mind going out and buying some more gauze and bandages, please? And some rubbing alcohol, too. Thanks."

Sam nodded and grabbed the Impala's keys, closing the door behind him quietly.

I turned back to the boy in front of me. "Oh, Dean, I need to heal you. Okay?"

I gently grabbed his hand with both of mine, immediately getting an unbearable feeling in me. It was like something was pounding my chest incessantly. It was like my heart was being squeezed, the grip gradually getting tighter and tighter. It was like my head was being split open, a nail and hammer pounding on it non-stop. 

I couldn't help but let out a cry at the pain I felt, immediately letting go of Dean's hand and pulling my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs and resting my head on my knees. 

If I felt so much pain in that one moment, I could only begin to imagine the pain he was holding in and the pain he was always carrying with him.

How damaged was he?

"(Y/N)?" Dean's tired voice called from above. I didn't lift my head to see how he was. I didn't answer him, only closing my eyes to stop more tears from falling.

"(Y/N)." his voice repeated, this time a little more firm. Still no response.

"(Y/N). Please." he tried again after sighing. "You're scaring me."

"How do you carry so much pain in you?" I asked him.

"What?" His voice sounded guarded in a split second.

"How do you carry so much pain in you?"

"I mean, I kinda got pretty beat up at--"

"No, Dean." I said sternly.

He sighed before laying his head back on the pillow. "I don't know."

I finally looked up at him for a long, quiet moment. "Why don't you let me heal you?"

"I don't know." He sounded....defeated. Tired. Broken, even.

"Let me heal you, then."

"No, I--"

I gently grasped his hand again and braced myself for the onslaught of headaches I would be getting. I could sense the pain slowly leaving Dean, his tense body gradually relaxing and loosening up. He gripped my hand firmly, not letting me go anywhere. Not that I could, anyway. I was exhausted from soothing all that pain. Mentally and physically.

I felt myself being tugged downwards into a warmth and didn't protest; I could use the nap. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I blacked out and let myself succumb to sleep.

When I woke up again, my head was being massaged. It felt nice.

"You up, sweetheart?" Dean's voice whispered.

"Mhm. But I'm not getting up."

Dean chuckled and we fell into a silence.

"Dean, why do you hold all that pain?" I asked my question again.

He didn't respond. "Let me take it away from you. Let me ease some of it away."

"Let me be your relief.".

"I can't--you can't--I can't let you do that. You have enough pain to take care of already."

"Dean, I can help you. You're no good to me pain-stricken than I am to you kidnapped and on the verge of death! Please, Dean, let me help you."

Dean sighed and closed his eyes, turning away from me. I took his silence as an invitation, ignoring his claims of not needing relief from the pain inside him.

Grumbling, I roll over and drape my arm across his side, the other one going to his hair, and I tangle our legs together. I slowly take the pain away, feeling his tense muscles gradually loosen and relax again. It takes much of my energy, so by the time I'm finished draining Dean of his negativity, I'm about tapped out.

Before I close my eyes and fall asleep, I hear Dean whisper something.

"Thank you, (Y/N). For being my relief."

This is officially the longest one-part one-shot in this book, sitting at 2k words. (I think.)

Next one-shot might be something Colin Ford and Daybreak related, not sure yet. Maybe a Peter Pan one, bc I've had a few ideas for that too.