Salty

Author’s Note: This is a sequel to my drabble Ghost .

Summary: It's been weeks since Y/n left him and Dean isn't taking it well.

Pairing: none, past Dean x Y/n

Word count: 828

Story Warnings: angst, drinking, breakups, Dean calling Y/n a bitch, drunk texting,

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Dean tapped his fingers against the tabletop next to the almost-empty bottle of bourbon. His head was swimming in booze and he just couldn’t wait for the sweet release of the blackout he felt approaching.

This was Y/n’s fault.

She did this to him. She fucking left him. All he wanted was to give a bit of distance to push down the feelings she was giving him and she just...broke it off.

‘Salt and burn’, she said. Salt and burn...like he was a monster, like he was a spirit, like he was...something she needed to kill.

“Well, congratulations, you bitch. You did it,” he muttered, swiping the bottle off the table and twisting the cap off. He pushed the bottle to his lips and took another drag off of it. “Just wouldn’t give me...just wanted space and you...fuckin’ hate you.” He tossed to bottle across the room and sighed as it hit the sawed-off shotgun on the wall and knocked it to the bed.

“Stupid...fuckin’...this is...fuck her.”

He pulled out his cell phone and flipped through the gallery of pictures. Him and Sam, him and Charlie, him and Bobby from years ago. Y/n. Y/n asleep in the shotgun seat of the impala. Y/n laughing at something Sam said in a bar. Y/n looking like a damn dream the morning after their first time together.

His lips pulled down into a sneer as he looked at his phone screen. She just...fucking...broke him...and he was going to tell her about it.