SPN X-Reader - Mirror, Mirror - Alternate Ending

     When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is a spotless white ceiling. You’re lying in a bed, and the sound of beeping machinery is the first thing you hear. There’s a faint, dull ache on your left arm on the inside of your elbow, and you lift it up to see an IV taped to that spot. Your muscles protest the movement, and you find yourself unable to hold up your arm for more than a few seconds.

    You’re in a hospital.

    Turning your head, you see Dean on the right side of the bed near your hand. He’s got his arms resting on top of the blankets, using them as a pillow. You can hear his soft, steady breathing, and you realize he’s asleep.

    “Dean.” You’re unable to get your voice above a murmur, but it’s enough to get his attention.

    He pops his head up at the sound of his name, blinking sleepily. His face lights up when he sees you’re awake, and he grabs your right hand.

    “Hey, baby girl.” He keeps his voice quiet. “You’re up.”

    As he speaks, Dean rubs his hands all over yours in a worried, possessive way. The sensation of being touched is something you’ve missed, and you silently beg him to never stop.

    “You had me worried, sweetheart. You’ve been out for three days.”

    “Sorry.” You shift, grimacing as every muscle protests. “Why do I hurt?”

    “Probably because you haven’t been moving for a couple of weeks. I’m guessing you didn’t have a lot of space to do much.”

    You shake your head. “I never tried to go anywhere.”

    “Was there any food in there?”

    “I didn’t need that, or water.”

    “That explains the dehydration.” He laughs softly, but not from happiness. “Whatever was staving off the need for food and water must’ve caught up to you when the mirror broke. God, you were so light when I carried you out of that shop. I could see every bone in your body. I still can.”

    He stills his hands for a moment, and then wraps them around your right one, pulling your fingers up to his mouth and pressing his lips against your knuckles. The touch is just enough to make you choke up a little.

    “Kiss me.” You ask. “Please.”

    He gazes up at you, complete adoration and love in his eyes. Then, slowly, he gets to a standing position. Bending over at the waist, he brings his head close to yours, gently pressing his cheek to your own before aligning his lips with yours. The kiss is gentle, but you can feel the pain that he felt from separation and the unobstructed joy he gets from being able to see and feel you again. You begin to cry softly into the kiss, never wanting it to end. Of course, Dean pulls away when he notices your tears, immediately concerned.

    “Hey hey hey,” He cups your face with his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “You alright, baby girl?”

    “Hold me.” You sob and try to grasp his jacket but find your hands don’t have the strength to hold on to the fabric.

    Reacting like he always does when you’re upset, he slides his arms under you, pulling you to him and holding you gently while making soft shushing noises. His hands cradle your head and lightly stroke your hair.

    “It’s okay, baby girl. Nothing’s ever gonna happen to you again, alright? I promise.”