Everyone around him dies or leaves… When will he learn? When will he fucking learn?

As a kid, Dean never got a chance to talk about things that made him angry… Or sad. He did what he was told and left no time to ask questions or talk about how he was feeling.

Now? Dean releases his anger in a fury of destruction. Chairs thrown, sheets torn, mirrors punched. It felt like a punch to the gut every time he felt that pit of anger in his stomach. Sam never understood, and he probably never will.

Dean will never get the ‘Apple Pie Life’ he spoke to Sam so much about. The domestic cooking, the kids, the normalcy. He doesn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel like his younger brother does. What hurts most of all? No one seems to understand why He doesn’t speak about his issues, why he can’t just up and channel his anger or frustration into something healthier.

His father fucked him up as a kid and into adulthood, even when John died… He felt so fucking sad. Course, that led to him slamming a crowbar into the impala.

With Sam in the pit with Lucifer and Michael, Dean was all alone save for Bobby… But, he would rather drink himself to sleep, sleep for four hours, wake up and do it again the next day.

It was self sabotage.

Until, he met you.

You were gentle… Kind. The feelings he had with you he’s never felt before. He was still so hesitant. He didn’t want to drag you into this life, everyone around him dies.

You both were on the third beer, sitting on the floor of his motel room swapping stories back and forth and just talking about life in general. He couldn’t just reveal his entire life, but for you? He would.

“I just…” He takes a deep breath, leaning his head back to rest it against the edge of the bed. “Do you ever just hate someone but love them at the exact damn time?”