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Free Supernatural Fanfiction – Chapter Summary:

Grief binds Analina and Dean as they face loss, love, and the fragile hope of a second chance.

Rating: PG-13
Contains:  Emotional intensity, mature themes of grief and loss

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE:  
Stronger

DEAN HELD ME TIGHTER THAN NORMAL. It felt like my tears released something in him, too. I could hardly catch my breath, let alone speak. But sometimes, words weren’t necessary.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that. My legs grew sore and stiff. I had no idea how I produced that many tears. Dean remained solid as a rock.

“I think I need to sit,” I managed between hiccups.

Dean and I sat on the sofa. It brought back memories of the night before our wedding—the anticipation and excitement.

The memory triggered another wave of tears. I felt despair that we would never get to live like other couples—in a house, with a family.

It hadn’t bothered me before, but hearing my parents tonight and remembering everything we’d been through made me realize that Dean would never get that chance, no matter how much he deserved it. The feeling consumed me. I hadn’t realized I was repeating “I’m sorry” over and over.

“Shh, Analina,” he soothed. “It’s all right. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

I tilted my head up and gazed into his tear‑stained green eyes. They were so sincere and full of concern. I blinked away more tears.

I wanted to tell him that I wished I could believe him. Our daughter was gone because I wouldn’t leave his side. I was the one who initiated the false hope of a semi‑normal life when it was impossible. And I loved him so much that I wished it could be true.

I felt helpless as the reality of our situation settled over me.

“We shouldn’t have come here,” I whispered before I could filter the thought.

I sat up and plucked a few tissues from the side table. The peacefulness of coming home vanished, leaving me cold and exposed.

“What are you talking about?” he asked quietly.

“You were right,” I said, my voice slowly growing stronger. “You can’t have both lives—not without hurting someone.”

I started to stand, to move, anything—because I couldn’t sit there anymore. But Dean quickly pulled me back down beside him.

“Your parents are fine. They’re happy we made it through the apocalypse.”

“Yeah, but now they think that’s it. We’re done. Retired or whatever. But we’re not,” I shot back—harsher than I intended. “Are we?”

I saw realization bloom in his eyes. He knew I’d heard that part of the conversation.

“I just can’t do that to them,” I finished weakly.

“Analina,” he said, “Analina, look at me.”

He gently lifted my chin. After a moment, he wiped a few tears from my cheek.

“Your parents aren’t stupid. They know there’s always going to be something out there that we hunt. They also know firsthand how we make a difference.”

I remembered the demon attack on my family just after our wedding. My parents were the only ones who didn’t get their memories erased.

They knew how dangerous our jobs were, but I didn’t think it fully hit them until that night. An exorcism was one thing. A full demonic attack on the household was something else.

“Deep down, yeah, they hoped this was it. That we’d let other people handle the rest. But they know you. You wouldn’t quit if someone needed help. Were you awake for what they said before that?”

I shook my head.

“They said that despite their misgivings about letting you go off and do what you do, they noticed a change in you. They said you were stronger, more confident, happy… and sturdier.”

He smiled.

I had gotten more toned from the job, which struck me as funny since most of the time we were traveling in the Impala. I guessed the job and routine practice helped more than I thought.

“That’s all they wanted for you—to be happy. And if that means chasing down monsters or saving the world with us, then they’ll learn to live with it.”

He paused to let his words sink in.

“They don’t want to stand in your way. They even said they were grateful for me. They never thought you’d open yourself up to anyone—to trust and love someone outside your family. But you have.”

I could only stare at him. Did they really think that?

“Believe me. I know my parents would say the same about me if they were alive… Actually, Sam said something similar to me at my bachelor party.”

I managed a weak smile.

“Don’t worry so much about them, Analina. They’re a lot stronger and more understanding than you’re giving them credit for.”

“And you?” I asked.

“Me? I’m always strong and understanding.”

“No.” I smiled. “I meant… I know how much you want a family. A normal life—even though we sometimes joke about it…”

I wasn’t sure if he’d understand what I meant, but he nodded.

“Yeah, I would. I’d love to have a home where you and I could live without anything evil lurking around. To raise a family. Get old. Put wheels on Sammy’s walker. And who knows?” he said with a shrug. “That might happen one day. But right now, as long as you and Sam are safe and healthy, that’s all I really want.”

“And Victory?”

There. I said it. I initiated it.

“Victory will be back,” he said quietly.

“But it won’t be the same. Not really.”

“No, it won’t,” he admitted. “But maybe when she’s born, it’ll be a better time—safer than during an apocalypse, anyway.”

“I guess there aren’t too many of those,” I said, feeling the grief ease.

The crying helped. But talking it over with Dean helped more.

With a grin, he said, “Exactly. We’ve stopped only a few of those, so not many at all.”

He grew more serious, though still playful.

“Honestly, Analina, the way Cas talked, it sounded like she would be born. Same soul, different body. This time, we’ll be much better prepared. Don’t you think?”

I smiled slightly. “I don’t think any first‑time parents are completely prepared, but yeah.”

“We’ll be great parents,” he said. “Are you kidding? She’ll be sweet and smart like her mom—and a badass like her dad.”

“Oh, God,” I mumbled, ducking my head so he couldn’t see my grin.

“Hey!” he joked.

We laughed—and it felt good. It was a release from everything that had built up over the last few days. We both needed it.

Slowly, the giggles faded, and everything felt serious again.

We still hurt—but it was getting better. We had each other, and that made things more bearable. I knew it would take time. We might never completely get over it. But being able to talk about it lifted the weight off our shoulders.

“Analina, I was thinking,” Dean began. “If it’s all right with you, I… thought that maybe we should name her something else when she’s born. You know, to have a fresh start.”

I thought about it.

Victory wasn’t a name I would’ve picked if she’d been carried to term. I supposed she could be called Vicki or something, but it didn’t feel right.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I think I would like that.”

Image by Copilot

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