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Marrying Y/n was the best thing to ever happen to Dean Winchester. The king of one night stands committed to a single girl, who would have ever thought? He would remember their honeymoon till his dying day. It was an era of happiness. His era of happiness

Their wedding was a small affair. Sam was there and so was Cas. Y/n wore white and Dean wore leather. They all drove down to the courthouse, Dean barely had time to run a comb through his hair and grab the ring. He would always remember the look in her eyes as he put the ring on, how hard his heart was beating, the way he scooped her up in his arms when it was over.

Y/n couldn’t decide where to go for their honeymoon, so Dean said they would drive until she found somewhere she liked. Whatever she wanted.

Dean remembered going into gas stations with her to pick out postcards to send to Sammy. They had promised to write him everyday. He remembered the soft looks Y/n gave him as she scanned the racks of trinkets, her hair in braids, light playing across her face, and the smell of bubblegum.

Y/n was something else. A mystery he could never seem to unravel. Ethereal in every sense of the word. Dean Winchester had met angels and demons alike, but he had never met anyone quite like Y/n.

Dean often thought of the nights spent in the hotel she picked, a run down place opened in the fifties and in need of a good paintjob. But Dean didn’t mind and Y/n loved the feeling it gave her (sad, yet excited). He sat on the bed, the faint yet enjoyable buzz of alcohol engrossing him. He watched Y/n dance with her eyes closed and her head thrown back, her hair falling around her shoulders, and an open bottle of Gin still in her hand. Her movements entranced him. The taste of her cherry lip gloss haunted him to this day.

Dean thought heaven must be like the field they went to one evening at sunset. Tall grass and the smell summer. The sky was painted a vibrant orange and pink. The sounds of Crickets and laughter filled the air. Again, she dressed in white. He dressed in leather. Golden sunlight filled his senses but there was nothing more intoxicating than her smile.

Dean watched her run through the field, her fingertips brushing the tops of the grass. She had left her shoes and any notion of diffidence behind her.

He had picked a flower for her and tucked it in her hair. Y/n looked at him with big doe eyes that always had a hint of sadness in them. The sunlight made her eyes twinkle and Dean had never seen anything more beautiful. They kissed under a tangerine and bubblegum sky. This memory would always be a little hazy, like he was seeing her in a dream. But he liked it better that way.

He would always remember the feeling of her skin on his, the scent of her hair, and the way her voice soothed like warm honey. Dean had never been so exquisitely happy.

But just as all moments of utterly blinding rapture do, it ended.

Dean sat in a world of darkness. The hospital’s chairs were hard and rigid and he imagined the bed wasn’t much better. The florescent light cast a ghostly glow on the girl he held most dear. Everything was grey - the walls, the tile, her gown, his thoughts.

Dean prayed to everything he believed in and everything he didn’t, that she would wake up. “Just wake up. Please wake up.” He muttered to her, holding her small hand in both of his large ones.

But she didn’t. Three weeks passed and she still lay without a sound. It was just a stupid accident. He should have been there. He should have been in the car with her.

Today was the day, Dean knew. Sam and Cas had already said their goodbyes. And know it was his turn.

He sniffed and pulled his chair a little closer to her. His eyes were red and he hadn’t shaved since God knows when. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things still left to do with her. And yet, here they were, at the end of the line.

He coughed, clearing his hoarse through. “I love you, I always have and I always will. Please know that… you were the best thing to ever happen to me in this stupid fucked up world. Marrying you was the only thing I’ve ever done that I won’t regret. God… I…” His voice broke and tears spilled down his cheeks. “We should have had more time. We didn’t even get a one year anniversary. You always said there was a higher power, but what kind of higher power would do this?” He dissolved into tears.

Dean regained his composure. “I hope you’re hearing this.” They sat in silence for a moment more. He held her hand and tried to steady his breathing. The regular beeping of Y/n’s heart monitor only made the aching in his chest worse.

He gently combed his fingers through Y/n’s hair, pushing it away from her face. He took her wedding ring off of her hand with shaky fingers and slipped it into his pocket.

Dean bent down to kiss her, but hesitated. He didn’t want their last kiss to be in this hospital room, surrounded by smell of chemicals and heartbreak. Y/n wouldn’t have wanted that either. So Dean pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

He stood up and looked down at her with watery eyes, knowing full well that he would never kiss her lips again or see her eyes sparkling. And the melody of her laugh would never bless his ears again.

“Goodbye Y/n.”

Dean took one step out of the room, before looking back. Soaking in her image one last time. Her hair was splayed out across the pillow and her cheeks were pale. He let out a shaky breath. She looked peaceful and he guessed that’s all he could ask for at this point.

Dean told the nurses it was time. They looked at him with sad eyes; they had seen him everyday for the pasted three months. They knew what this meant.

He watched in a trance from the doorway, as the nurses tended to their job. He never wanted to watch her die, he knew it would haunt him for as long as he lived, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Dean watched as she breathing slowed and finally stopped.

And just as suddenly as she appeared in his life, she was gone. His era of happiness was over. She slipped between his fingers and there was nothing he could do to get her back.

It didn’t really hit him until he was on the ride back home, when he had to pull his car over because he was shaking so much. He slept in the car that night. The same car she once sat, laughing, urging him to go faster, leaning out of the window, singing at the top of her lungs. Dean hoped that when he woke, it would all be a bad dream. He hoped that she would be there, smiling.

In the years to come, Dean rarely spoke of Y/n. Sam often wondered if Dean was pretending that she didn’t happen, that she didn’t have such a profound hold on him. But Dean wasn’t pretending. He just liked keeping the memories of her close to him. He wore her ring on string around his neck. And some days, when the hole in his heart could not be satisfied by alcohol, he would take out pictures of her. She was always laughing in those, always in movement, always blurry.

Dean would smile when he looked at Y/n’s photo. He knew that she had never really been his. She had just been on loan to this earth. And Dean was grateful that he got to spend that time with her. She was as elusive as the smoke from a candle and just as ephemeral. And he was grateful to her- Y/n-the girl who gave him a happiness that he never thought he could have in his lifetime.