#[ You're more than welcome to have Cas be aware of Darkness ]

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. LXXXIX

It was a love story from the very beginning

"You, me... And Sam."

Hello my friends!!! How are you? I feel much better now thanks to all your asks and your memes and your cracks, I adore them all!

Okay, putting that to a side, and still dreaming about how Jensen will give us the ending we all deserve, let's continue with this analysis, because is time to talk about the mixtape.

From butterflies in the stomach and Foreshadows of the new God

When the episode starts, there's a hint of what Jack's mission is. But coming out from Dagon's mouth, it became like a real bad future.

Dagon: Yeah. And he's not gonna stop there. Every sad, weak human, every tight-ass angel, every sniveling demon they'll all be consumed. So go ahead. Play your games. But whether you're healthy or sick, filthy or clean, He will be born. Good times.

Is almost the contrary to what Jack will actually do for the world. He will consume but it will be Chuck's powers until the last drop of it. And against Dagon's speech, he will save each demon and angel and restore everything.

Now, let's talk about CAS coming back to the bunker...

Gif credit @godshipsit

I think his face is saying everything here. The one entering in the bunker after go MIA, was Cas', so, Dean's face is scandalous.

Imagine that suddenly your disappeared crush enters through the door without previous announcement. Of cour we can read the bumping heart allnover Dean's cheek, his eyes went wide, in surprise. 'Is CAS!'

He was so worried this whole time, thinking the worst could happen to him, and now CAS is there, alive.

But his reaction to it will be completely different to Sam's reaction. This was settled to make us see the difference between how a friend would react and how a lover would react. Blatant.

Sam: Hey. You're all right. Um – Where have you been?

Sam is asking as a friend, but Dean, Dean doesn't...

Dean: Let me rephrase that for Sam. Where the hell have you been? And why have you ignored our phone calls?

Okay, let's just stop here, this is the way a wife will ask her husband. But because we are talking about Dean, we can see his shield. His shield is US/WE, his shield is SAM, because he wants to drag his brother into the feeling of being desperately worried. Because recognize that DEAN WAS THE ONLY ONE ALMOAT LOOSING HIS HEAD TRYING TO KNOW IF CAS WAS ALIVE OR WHWRE HE WAS IA SHOWING WEAKNESS, IS SHOWING HIS TRUE FEELINGS FOR THE ANGEL. So, the theme of the I/ME vs the WE/US is perfectly written all over this episode.

Castiel: Where I was, the – the reception was, uh, poor.

Dean: No bars? No bars. That's his excuse. Wow.

Castiel: I was in Heaven. I was working with the angels. When I saw Dagon had captured Kelly, I-I thought they could help.

Okay Castiel is proving he is lying by himself here, because he said first he had not signal, and now, he heard one of the so many voice mails Dean had left in his phone.

Sam: And?

Castiel: Nothing.

Sam: Well, at least you're back. We're glad you're back

And be prepared again for the difference between the friend and the JILTED lover.

Dean: Really? No, I'm sorry. Okay, 'cause while you were striking out in Heaven, we had a shot at Dagon, and we lost.

Maybe Dean was waiting Sam to second him in his anger. But it was only in Dean's heart, the deception, and the recalling of so many days be worried about CAS. Because that's what romantic love makes you be.

Castiel: I know. I received your messages.

This was like a bomb for Dean...

Dean: Oh, you did – you did receive the messages? Okay, that's good.

Sarcasm...

Castiel: Dean.

Gif credit @starlightcastiel

Dean can't handle the pain in his heart of being rejected and ignored by Castiel, so he searches for his shield again: We/Us/Sam and me.

Dean: So not only were you ditching us, but you were also ignoring us? That's great. 'Cause we really could've used the backup. But, uh, you were too busy with, um (Clicks tongue) What was it? Nothing?

Castiel: Dean, I –

Dean: What the hell is wrong with you, man? You know, whatever. That's (Chuckles) Yeah. Welcome back. (walks away)

Dean is so mad with CAS. And is blatant that his reaction is totally different to Sam's.

The Mixtape as a way to reciprocate Castiel's confession, and the desperate attempt to make CAS to stay by his side.

Okay, we are now in the scene. I'm sure this scene had been dissected by many meta writers. I won't say new things, but i will point a little to their body languages.

Okay, the scene starts with Castiel knocking at Dean's door to give him back the mixtape, so jus aknowledged there that Dean gave CAS a freaking mixtape, which doesn't have another meaning that ROMANTIC. But we can assume Castiel doesn't get this human's customaries, also, we can assume he does, because boop culture that Metatron out at once in his head... So...

After Dean, without looking at him, because he is mad and now he has to handle this angel lack of knowledge about WHAT GIFTING A MIXTAPE MEANS, he said "It's a gift, you keep those."

And Castiel gets nervous.

Gif credit @stardustcas

The swallow and the way he opens his mouth again to breathe and maybe to say something else, but he stopped himself. Castiel is nervous. I thought at first because he has to find the Colt, and he knew Dean kept it in his room. But we know now that it wasn't just that. He was flustered because the intimacy of the situation with the man he loves.

Castiel looks around before attempting to leave, maybe searching for the Colt, but then Dean starts talking:

Dean: Cas, you can't – With everything that's going on, you can't just go dark like that. We didn't know what happened to you. We were worried. That's not okay.

And in the middle of the intimate scene, awkward moment, Dean needs his shield more than never.

Castiel: Well, I didn't mean to add to your distress. I – Dean, I just keep failing. Again and again. When you were taken, I searched for months and I couldn't find you. And then Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn't find her. And I just wanted I needed to come back here with a win for you. For myself.

This speech is so important, because it shows how depressed Castiel felt, how uneasy. How unworthy. He needed to be useful. So he decided to start alone this dangerous journey that will end in his death. He also mentions the win. Because he didn't know he will be always Dean's win, as we will see in episode 13x06 when CAS comes back to Dean alive.

After they talk about Dragon, and Cas' asks if Sam and Dean are willing to kill an innocent, because that's dirty work, that's the mission CAS had taken in his own shoulders, Dean says this...

Dean: We will find a better way.

Castiel: You mean, we?

Gif set credit @deanwinchestrs

Cas points at Dean with the mixtape, because he wants to clarify if Dean is referring to them, to JUST CAS AND DEAN. YOU AND ME. THE TWO OF US. And Dean is now the flustered one. Look at Dean's face, being in just one spot, recognizing that the shield can be broken, that he is talking about CAS and him. Is too intimate. Too different. So his face is burning. And even so, the words are out. 'Yes, dumbass, we.'

What was this? This was an attempt coming from Castiel to get to know Dean's feelings. Pointing with the mixtape to just Dean and him. Not Sam here. Not shield. And Dean goes for it. Goes for that WE: YOU AND ME.

But then, Dean backtraks

Gif set credit @stardustcas

He starts explaining the WE, avoiding Castiel's gaze, he goes... 'You, me...' and then he tilts his head, and adds the shield back again: 'and Sam.'

The second gif is showing Dean backtracking, Because is too intimate, is too risky, he is standing on the edge between friendship and something else. He can't cross that line. Mostly because he is not sure about Castiel's feelings for him, and more now, after seeing how CAS ignored him for so long. Dean is like:

"What am I doing? Let's mention Sam here, and turn this into no homo conversation."

But the nervousness is all over the scene, i got nervous watching it because the awkward moment!

Gif set credit @stardustcas

More nervousness. Dean's flustered eyes. The swallowing. The attempt of staring into those blue eyes of the man he loves. (The butterflies in the stomach, the heart beating fast, the dry mouth) trying to make the conversation more normal, but their faces are loud.

Vas says he likes that and then Dean is more frustrated than never and his dry mouth is asking for a beer, or maybe he find a way out from the awkward moment, the gay moment. He needs to breathe. He almost let his guard down with this angel. And the desperate way to say STAY WITH ME. DON'T GO AWAY AGAIN. To his angel.

Castiel engages with a seductive look in the middle of the sexual tension

Sam: I mean, how did Cass even get the Colt out of the safe in the first place?

Dean drops his head. Sam raises an eyebrow

Sam Dean, you – you put the Colt back in the safe, right? Dean?

Dean: It was under my pillow. It – I like to keep it close. (Sighs) He came into my room and he played me.

Okay i can even explain the intimacy of this. Even if CAS didn't know about this and he just went searching all over Dean's room. Mention this after the huge scene full of romantic tension, has a meaning. Again: INTIMACY. And adding the "He played me" to all of this is another symbol way to show theme audience this was like that scene between the guy and his crush, in wich his crush takes advantage of it and plays him by stealing something from him. Yes.

Finally, when they find CAS... This scene...

Gif credit @stardustcas

Dean is mad, very mad at him. Because Castiel really played him. But... Look at the scene. Look at Castiel's gaze: PURE SEDUCTION. He maybe is aware of the effect he causes on Dean. And after the mixtape scene, he goes for it. Seduction as if they were in their first seasons together. And Dean is muted, and stares at him, then checks him out, and they're in their own sexual tension world, until Sam calls him. But he has to calls him twice because his brother is too embedded into Castiel's hot behavior.

But don't forget Dean is mad at him. So now, is Dean the one playing around with CAS. Throwing the keys at him and making him almost loose his stability to reach them.

Closing the circle

When Dean and Sam reach Castiel again in the middle of a battle with Dragon, Dean's desperation when Dagon is about to smite Castiel is high level.

But then Jack saves the day, not just showing CAS the future (the ending of season 15) but also, Jack gave him powers to finish Dagon.

Then, the scene in wich Castiel heals Dean is full of intimacy again. The lingerie touch, rubbing fingers. Because Dean is moving his hand slowly away from CAS touch but he ended by letting his hand to feel Castiel's rubbing his fingers. To let Castiel to heal him.

And then, CAS is gone again.

To Conclude:

12x19: The Future has Destiel all over it. Dean mad at him, reaching the level of a JILTED lover. Dean way to protect himself from another rejection using the WE/US/SAM shield. Just because he can't handle it. The doubts about Cas' feelings, and the way the angel always find to go MIA, makes his heart stutter.

The mixtape scene is one of the most emblematic. The nervousness is all over their faces, and Misha and Jensen transmite perfectly the romantic tension between the two characters and goes straight to our hearts, making us feel awkward and flustered too.

Hope you like this meta. See you in the next one!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-d @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @agusvedder @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you wanna read the previous metas from season 12, here you have the links:

Vol. LXXV, LXXVI, LXXVII, LXXVIII, LXXIX, LXXIX, LXXX, LXXXI, LXXXII, LXXXIII, LXXXIV, LXXXV, LXXXVI, LXXXVII, LXXXVIII.

Buenos Aires, November 24th 2020, 9:36 PM

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ F*CKING HIGH ❜

with Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas.

Request: Hey! Maybe prompt 52. When Creeper get shot and Mayans don't know reader but when hé was high on medication he call her at Vicky's House ? 🙈Something really Fluff ? Thanks!! I love ur writings 😊😊

BY ANON

Warnings: none.

Word count: 1.6k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author, I found it on Google.

Masterlist.

The books over the table with a lot of notes scattered around them are starting to give you a horrible headache. You don't know how many hours you have been studying, but you're sure that it was daytime. When you focus your gaze on the horizon, through the window, you're aware of the streetlights turned on outside and the dark sky above Santo Padre. It's your final week to complete the MIR and you have left just one exam. The last one. So, when Creeper told you he was going to travel to Las Vegas for a couple days, you have to recognize that you felt a little alleviated. You want to spend the maximum time possible with him, but you also have to study, but both things aren't compatible. Even so, he should be at home already.

Checking the time on the clock in your wrist, you snort getting up from your chair to pick up the books and your pens. It's enough study for today and you're really hungry. After cleaning the table, you fall down on the sofa turning on the TV and looking in your phone for something to take away. Cooking it's not an option today. Choosing the local pizzeria for excellence, you're about to make the order when an incoming call interrupts your plans. Reading his name on the screen, you answer quickly.

“Babe!”

“Maaaaamaaaa”. He sings, making you frown somewhat confused sitting on the sofa. “Heeeeey, maaaamaaaa”.

“Are you… high, Neron?”

“Yeah… Fuckin' high… for you, my loooove”.

“What the hell? Where the fuck are you?”

“Mama, I want you here. I need you here, maaaama!”

“Ner—”.

“I am… close”.

“Close from what?”

“Border, mama. Close to the border. Come with meeee. I need my nurse, mama, pleaaase”.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Your heart is racing, jumping off from the sofa, running to your shared room.

“A guy shot me, mama. But don' worre', I'm okaaaay”.

“Neron, send me your location right now!”

“Mama, mama, mama, are you comen'?”

“FUCK, NERON, OF COURSE I'M COMING. SEND ME THE FUCKING LOCATION”.

“Don'... Don' shout at me, mama”.

From nowhere, you can hear him crying like a child. Even if he's high, that shit breaks your heart into pieces. Stopping next to your bed rubbing your forehead, barely gulping, you try to calm yourself.

“Are you alone?”

“N—No…”

“The bul—”.

“It's out, mama… I wan—want you here with me. I'm okay, mama, I'm okay… Come with me. Don'... leave me, don' break with me, mama, please”.

“Send me your location, okay? Could you do that for me?”

“Yeah, mama… Are you comen'?”

“Sí, Neron, I'm gonna get dressed, okay?”

“Okay, mama… I love you. I love you, mama. I truly love you, I swear”.

“I know, mi flaquito”.

Hanging up the call, you take some second to breathe calmly before looking for some clothes to put on and grabbing the medical kit when you're ready. They better have something to eat, or there will be more than one man shot. Leaving your house, your phone rings with a notification. The address of Vicki's house. You have heard about it, and you're not surprised at all. According to your boyfriend, this is the favorite place of Mayans. You don't know them, not yet, but you can imagine why they like it this much. Keeping the kit on the back seat, you step in your car turning the engine to follow the instructions recited by the gps.

When it says that you have reached your destiny, you focus through the Camaro's front window to find the house, looking exactly as he described you one day. Going out of the pilot seat and carrying the medical stuff in your right hand, you go upstairs practically jumping them to hit the door with your palm. A girl with brown hair, big eyes and almost naked welcomes you, pushing her by a side before she can talk.

“Hey, hey! Wait! You ca—”.

Coming into the living room, you finally meet his other family. They were drinking and laughing until you appeared, now staring at you confused. The one who you recognize as El Presidente gets up from his chair, the other two are pointing at you with their guns, warned by the bitch behind you.

“I'm from Tijuana, you can't scare me con una pistolita”. (With a gun). You spit with a strong mexican accent, containing a sarcastic laugh.

“Who are y—”.

“MAAAMI, MAAAAMIIIIIIII”.

Hearing your boyfriend calling you, you don't give them a single chance to let you introduce yourself, running upstairs following the laments of Creeper between moans and pleased begs. Disgusting. Opening the last green red door, you finally reach him. The medical kit falls from your hand shocked. Taking a step, you tour his silhouette lying on the mattress. Being shirtless you can see the bandage covering the bullet hole, with some blood trespassing the cotton, and the sling holding the other. His face isn't much better, with some scratches on his left cheek and his temple. The most disturbing is watching him crying like a scared child, trembling and trying to sit up on the bed.

Before the other mexicans can reach you, you're already kneeling on the bed not knowing where you're allowed to touch him and where not.

“Mami, I missed you”.

“You're an idiot, you know it, rai'?” You ask him with your eyes filled with tears, gently caressing the other cheek, while he nods.

Leaning forward you kiss his shaky lips once and again, before feeling his right arm surrounding your waist.

“Let me see the shot, okay?” Whispering, you get up from the bed to take the medical kit, under the look of the men waiting on the door.

“The doctor put it out, disinfected the wound and stitched it up”. El Presidente says, making you frown your eyebrows.

“The doctor, or the vet?”

“Wha—”.

“Answer before I fucking punch you”.

“The vet”.

Of course, it's not the same. Even the medicines that give you in the MIR are stronger than the ones for a veterinarian. Opening the kit over the bed and wearing a pair of blue gloves, you lean on Creeper to take off the bandage and the gauze, narrowing your eyes to see every stitch on it. It's… acceptable, but you could have done it better. Wetting some cotton with iodine, you clean the blood around the suture with soft moves to not hurt him more. Your boyfriend is assorted on how concentrate you look taking care of him.

“Do you know what you are doing, niña?” The oldest one rests his body against the frame.

“'Amma real doctor, not a veterinarian”. You respond without turning at him, but at your kit to find clean gauzes and an adhesive bandage to cover the sewn hole again. “What happened with the other, Neron?”

“Dislocated”. He just says gulping with parted lips.

“What did they gave you for the pain?”

“Just some pills, mami…”

“How many hours ago?”

“Almost ten”. El Presidente replies in his place, making you twist towards him.

“Okay, Creep', I'm going to prick you some morphine”. He just nods.

Grabbing a needle wrapped on a security plastic, you open it to fill it up with the transparent liquid from a small glass bottle. Hitting it softly with two fingers and letting some of the medicine spill on air, you lead the needle to his bare skin over the wound. Nailing it slowly until the metallic part has disappeared inside it. Then, you push the plastic container until empty. Taking off the needle and keeping it again inside its paper, to throw it later, you close the medical kit.

“You need to rest, okay?”

“Mami, stay with me, please… Don' go”. He begs you crying low and holding your hand as strong as he can.

“You need to rest”. You repeat raising both eyebrows and nodding with your chin one time, caressing his grip with your fingers. “I will talk with your friends for a moment. Ain't going anywhere, mi flaquito. Not without you”.

“I love you, mama. I really do”.

“I love you too, Creep'”. Smirking at your boyfriend, you kiss him again having a little more of caring to not hurt him. “Sleep, flaquito”.

Placing the medical kit over a desk, you leave him closing the door, killing with your eyes the men in front of you.

“I'm hungry, so you better find me some dinner”.

“First, tell us who you are, because he's high enough to confuse himself and believe that he's the fucking Messiah”.

“I'm his girlfriend, pendejo. And you're gonna be a dead man if you don't bring me my fucking dinner”.

El Presidente chuckles rubbing his chin, before nodding, seeing you disappear through the opened door again. Coming back to the bed, you can notice that your boyfriend isn't crying anymore, smiling like an idiot. Sighing you lie down by his side, wrapping his body with both arms, letting him find a comfortable posture under them. You can feel his lips kissing your right forearm somewhat sleepy, purring like a cat. Definitely, he's too high.

“Mami, I love you…” He whispers when you begin to caress his neck with your fingertips. “You are the love of my life…”

“Yeah, you already said it… like a lot of times”. You laugh softly, turning towards you with a soft grimace of pain on his face.

“Love you it's my favorite thing”. He mumbles stunned because of the smile on your lips.

“Mine too, babe. I love you more than anything”.

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[letmebeyourkillerkxng-a]

@thefaithforeverunbroken started following you.

“Ugh.... I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with one of you feather brains any time soon....” the words were something between spat out and hissed.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Revelation

Rated PG-13 For mentions of abuse, trigger topics such as suicidal thoughts, torture, language, and kidnaping.

Masterlist

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

There aren't very many things worse than watching one's little brother die. I think the only thing worse than that is enduring it twice. I had already had to watch Jasper be slaughtered like a pig in front of me. Wasn't that torture enough for a lifetime? Was having to salt and burn my own brother the universe's twisted idea of a joke? This wasn't funny!

What kind of cruel world was I living in? Why did my last words to my precious little brother have to be empty promises? How was that okay? Jasper would spend the rest of eternity waiting for me to show up, tell him my stories, and tuck him into bed, but I never would. Because if I lived, I would be stuck down here on this awful planet, reliving the same day over and over and over again. And if the Winchester's decided to kill me when they found out what I was, then I wouldn't be going to heaven. I already knew where I would go. It wasn't anywhere good.

Well, if my life was a joke then I hoped at least somebody was getting a kick out of it.

I knew I wasn't.

From the top of the stairs, I heard Sam, Dean, and Cas open the sliding glass door and shuffle outside. Jack firmly insisted on staying here. He probably thought he should stay in case I ' needed him ' for comfort or something.

'Well, joke's on you, puppy, cause I don't need anyone.' I thought, bitterly. I traveled down the dark hallway to my room, the one with the plain white door all the way down on the end. The door opened with a soft click and squeaky hinges and I kicked it shut behind me.

My room was exactly how I had left it. Not a single thing was out of place. Of course, it was about as far away from immaculate as anything can get. There were pieces of paper strewn all over the desk, plenty of wadded-up sketches in the trash can and even more outside the trash, pencils were left in strange places, and mix-matched fairy-lights draped over  way  too many things. Miscellaneous articles of clothing were draped over a chair, clustered around the laundry basket, crumpled on the bed, and a few were even hanging from the doorframe of the closet. The bed wasn't made, the blankets and sheets hopelessly tangled together and there was an atrocious number of glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the roof. Oh, and let us not forget the rainbow-colored streamers hanging from the ceiling fan, so really everything was just an absolute mess.

But it was a comforting mess and that's how that girl who used to be me had lived. She had been a scatterbrained, messy-haired, and bright-eyed sort of girl, she'd had so much potential. That girl could have great. Her mess comforted me too. Maybe she wasn't as dead as I'd thought.

"Well, I'm just about done with this whole damn popsicle-stand of existence. You?" Isaac asked, sounding more dead than he looked.

"Done," I agreed. "So, so done."

I flopped down on my already messy bed, staring up at the tacky stars on the ceiling while I tried to come to terms with the fact that I'd never see my little brother again. I couldn't feel the prickling of tears forming in my eyes. I guess I'd run all out of tears to cry. Lucky me. I felt like throwing up.

"Should we go down fighting or give up and roll over? What say you?" Isaac collapsed at the foot of my bed.

"What's the point in fighting?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Frequent flyer miles?"

"So... Nothing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Maybe I would just attack the Winchesters once I tore Felix to sheds. Maybe they wouldn't kill me fast. Maybe they'd make me suffer. Then maybe I could cry like I was supposed to.

I had hardly been debating those thoughts for a minute when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Oh, joy. Five minutes of peace was all I'd asked for and apparently I couldn't even get that. Screw my life.

The door flew open with an overly dramatic bang but I didn't flinch. Jack stood in the doorway, eyes alight like molten gold. I turned my head lazily to face him, aware of my void expression but ultimately indifferent to it. I couldn't even bring myself to act like the fake version of myself I had made to fool the Winchesters. I felt oddly numb like nothing mattered. Because honestly, what did? Not even getting my revenge on Felix would change anything. Things wouldn't get better, my life would still suck to an astronomical degree, and this whole stupid world would just keep turning like it always did. Getting revenge was just self-indulgence, really. So what if Jack saw the real me for a couple of hours?

With luck, I'd be dead by morning.

With luck, he'd be the one to kill me.

I deserved it.

"Welcome to the year Nineteen-Thirty, puppy. What do you want?" I addressed him. My tone was clipped, calloused, and cold, but I didn't care.

Jack's eyes were glowing and the air was charged with his power; it made my hair stand on end and my ears hurt like when a plane takes off. Yet, oddly enough, if there and been one in my hand, I would have been swirling chocolate milk in a wine glass for all I'd cared.

Jack didn't answer me. His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed. There was something in his eyes, something akin to desperation. He knew what he wanted to say but the words died in his throat.

"You deaf, honey-bug?" I lifted an eyebrow and took an actual glance at his expression. He didn't look angry. He looked...

Terrified.

And shocked.

And torn.

And betrayed.

I did this. It was me. I had hurt him.

His hands clutched an object tightly between them with enough force to turn his knuckles white. It was a picture frame. I caught a glimpse of the picture within; it had been taken two weeks to the day I'd died. I looked back up to his eyes.

Ah, yes. There it was. The recognition. What a clever, clever boy.

He'd finally put all the pieces together.

'Well, good for him.'

"Uh, oh spaghetti-oh's; looks like the Nephil knows," Isaac droned from the foot of my bed.

"What are you?" Jack asked, his voice trembling. He blinked back tears, biting down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling.

I blinked, feeling sick. I didn't want to lose him, I realized. As much as the bitterness inside me tempted me to bite into him and taste his sweet blood or tell him the truth and watch him squirm just for a distraction from the pain, I couldn't. Because then I'd lose him. I didn't want to lose him. I'd already lost Jazzy today for the second time, I couldn't lose Jack too.

Isaac turned to me, his expression as empty as mine. "Ya gonna tell him?"

"I am Miss. Nidsbit," I answered, flatly. It was supposed to sound friendly like I was teasing, but it only came off as evasive. Jack glared at me. It was already happening; I was already losing him. I guess I deserved that much.

"Don't joke," He said.

"I thought it was hilarious," Isaac chimed.

"In that case, I'm bottled-depression." I flashed my teeth in a way that held no joy whatsoever. "Pint-sized for your convenience," I added, trying for a familiar joke about my height. It sounded empty.

"That was better," My brother snickered, leaning back and closing his eyes. He was probably just going to keep making sarcastic jabs in an attempt to vent his anger, so I ignored him.

"I asked you a question," Jack growled in a way that somehow managed to be threatening despite the whole baby-face puppy-eyed thing he had going on. It was actually kinda hot... Wait, what? When had that happened?

"And I answered you." I sat up. Why did I sound so bitter? Why couldn't I change it? My eyes flicked down to Jack's throat without my permission. His skin looked so soft and I realized I was suddenly famished. My throat burned and desire reared its ugly head inside me. Isaac's voice snapped my attention back to reality.

"Oh dear, Marty. You made the Nephil sniffle."

Jack clenched his teeth and hissed, seemingly bothered by the fact that I wasn't afraid of him. He wouldn't hurt me, right? No, he would. He would hurt me if he knew. If he knew what I wanted to do to him. I wanted him to hold me as he had a few days ago but I wanted to sink my teeth into him at the same time. I deserved to die.

"What are you?" He repeated, taking a step forward. He would hurt me. Good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, my voice inflectionless. Wandering towards my dresser I started fiddling with some meaningless piece of junk. Anything for a distraction from his soft throat and thrumming pulse. Jack's glowing eyes followed me.

"Y-you're lying," He said. He was trying to sound strong, but there was something broken in his tone.

"Ya think?" I deadpanned. Jack swallowed thickly; his hand shot out to grab my wrist, eyes fading back to their soft blue.

"This isn't funny, Marty. Stop." His eyes pleaded with me. I eyed his hand.

"Or what?" I challenged. What would he do to me? He looked me in the eyes, frowning and moving closer to me. He needed to step away. I caught my gaze drifting to his neck again but I couldn't stop.

"I really don't want to hurt you," He said.

'Then don't make me tell you.' I thought. His eyes searched my face for any glimpse of his friend, but that girl had never been real, not really anyway. I had made her up.

I wished I could go back in time. Back to the night we met. We could do it all over again and maybe, if I had another chance, he wouldn't figure it out. Maybe it would've been better if I'd never come with Jack in the first place. I wished we could go back to the night we met. Then I could have said no. If I hadn't come with him, I never would have hurt Jack like this. If he had never touched me then I would never have had to feel this pain. If I could just go back.

"And you won't," I said, taking a chance.

Jack huffed, his expression pained.

"This is freakin' five-star entertainment," Isaac mused, resting his chin on his fist, observing Jack and me.

"Please, Marty," Jack begged in a whisper. His sweet-smelling breath was warm as it washed over my face. His eyes flicked down to my lips but only for a split second. No, no. Anything but that. "Just tell me the truth."

'You already know it.'

"I have," I lied. Everything kept coming out wrong! I sounded emotionless like I didn't care but I did! Jack's soft expression melted into one of betrayal.

"So, you're just going to lie?" He asked. "Right to my face?"

I didn't have control over what slipped from my lips next.

"Says the Devil's kid."

"Ooh! One point to the Marty!" Isaac laughed.

Jack stared at me like he was heartbroken. Then his eyes narrowed into a glare, lighting with gold as he released my wrist and moved his hand to seize my throat. He whirled us around and slammed me into a wall with more force than I'm sure than he intended to use. Not that I couldn't take it. Without so much as a flinch, I tilted my head as much as I could with Jack cutting off my air supply.

"Tell me what you are!" He shouted. There was desperation there.

"That's quite the grip ya got there, puppy," I taunted, rasping. He loosened his grip but only slightly, holding the picture of my family up for me to see, the corner was dated January 8th, 2014.

"You said they died five years ago. This picture- it was taken five years ago! You said you were nine then! But y-you - you weren't!" Jack's eyes were wide, almost crazed as he glanced from the girl in the picture and back to me. He knew the truth; he just didn't want to believe it. His voice softened. "You haven't aged a day. Five years and you haven't aged a day."

My voice was soft and it wasn't just from the lack of air. "I aged about a month, actually."

Jack let go of my throat like I was burning him, shaking his head as he backed away like a frightened animal. As well he should. He was the prey here and I did want to kill him. But I wanted him to hold me again even more. "Y-you're one of them..." He whispered.

'Don't leave me. I'm sorry, just don't leave me!' I thought desperately, but that wasn't what came out. I felt trapped in my own skin, the monster inside me taking over, fed by my own bitterness.

"I'd say something along the lines of 'say it out loud' but I'm pretty sure that would have copywrite issues," I said, shrugging and moving back to sit on my bed. Jack watched me carefully.

"Felix - h-he turned you. He made you just like him - a vampire... You're a monster!" He spat the word like it was snake-venom.

And it hurt. It hurt so freaking bad. It was like I had lodged a knife in my own chest years ago and now Jack was twisting it.

'I know I am.' I wanted to say.

"Well that's a harsh way of putting it. But I've been called worse." I brushed it off like I didn't care like it wasn't that deep like I wasn't  bleeding  to tell him how sorry I was. I lowered my head in shame.

"I-I have to tell Sam and Dean," Jack said, shifting onto the balls of his feet, edging towards the door. He was going to make a run for it. Suddenly, I was in control of my body again.

I couldn't let him. I needed more time. I needed to beat Felix first and then they could all find out. I had to fix this. I could still fix this.

I had made Jack forget once.

I could do it again.

I would take us back in time. Before he knew. Make everything right. Take us back to the night we met.

He had to forget.

"I can't let you do that," I spoke softly, my gaze still focused on my feet.

"Are you going to try to kill me?" He asked accusingly.

"No." I shook my head. No, I could never kill him. I was too selfish for that. He deserved someone so much better than me. But I loved him.

"Then what are you going to do?" Jack shifted closer to the exit.

"Isaac," I glanced at my brother out of the corner of my eye. Jack stiffened, his eyes snapping to where mine went. "Get the door."

"On it!" Isaac said, overly eager. Jack bolted but he was too slow. My brother flicked his wrist and the door swung closed with a click. Jack swallowed thickly and glanced back to me, fear filling his features. I knew what he was going to try next.

'This is necessary. One day I'll be sorry.'

"His wings," I said to Isaac, my voice breaking. Isaac grinned widely and reached out, making a pinching motion. Jack froze in a panic, then he clenched his eyes shut groaning as Isaac twisted his hands just a bit.

"Can I rip 'em off?" He asked, basking in the Nephilim's pain.

"Isaac, no!"

"Oh, come on," He twisted his hands even more and Jack cried out, his innocent face twisting in agony. "Just a little?"

"Stop! Just-" I sighed. "Please, don't hurt him, Isaac. Just keep him still, please."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine!" He let go and Jack fell to the ground, panting and shaking. He did his best to get to his feet but Isaac flung him into a wall, pinning him there. "Go ahead and Obliviate the simp."

I stood and stepped towards Jack, slowly and carefully, trying not to scare him any more than I had. I could tell he was trying desperately to move but Isaac was too strong.

"What are you going to do?" Jack demanded, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Are you going to drink my blood?!"

I froze.

Because I could. Then, I could make him forget.

I glanced at his throat. My fangs ached to come out - to bite.  I could imagine what it might feel like to bury my teeth in that soft, delicious-smelling skin. I could imagine what he might taste like. He'd be sweet like candy. I could be gentle! Maybe if he could somehow understand how badly I needed him then he'd let me. And he heals fast so he'd be okay.

But he wouldn't understand. And I wanted him to hold me again.

I just wanted Jack to hold me again.

"No," I said. I plucked the picture frame from his hands, gazing at the smiles of my family for a moment. I looked up, trying to smile despite the ache of grief and guilt in my chest. "I'm going to need you to forget this."

"I wish I could," Jack said, glaring at the floor. He couldn't even look at me. He couldn't even look.

I nodded. "You will."

"W-what?"

I sighed and moved over to the window. The crisp breeze blew in from the sea as I threw it open, the curtains billowing like vicious barking dogs on a leash. It was a long way down to the black rocks where the land met the ocean. I dropped the picture and watched it tumble until it smashed into the rocks, shattering that perfect picture frame, shattering my picture-perfect family into a million pieces.

"I can make you forget," I told him, over my shoulder. "Take us back to the night we met." The power inside me trilled with excitement; it wanted Jack, it craved him. Or maybe that was just the monster I was, begging to be unleashed. I turned away from the window, closing it as I did.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously. He was scared. He was  so  scared.

"I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to forget, and everything will be back to the way it was." I would fix this. His arms would be around me as soon as I fixed this and everything would be okay. I hung my head and let the power inside me launch forward and wrap itself like chains around my Nephilim. I could feel his light, his grace, fighting back but it had nothing substantial to fight. My power wasn't physical, I just imagined it being so.

"No! W-wait!" Jack watched me with dread, beginning to feel the effects of what I was doing to him. I was locking his memories away, locking him up in his own head. But I had to. Because he wouldn't understand and I needed him.

"I have to do this," I whispered, digging my mental claws in deeper.

"Stop," He gasped, beginning to tremble with effort, "Whatever you're doing, just stop!"

"I can't stop, Jack. I'm sorry, but I just need a little more time," I said, gently. "Four moves and I win."

"Four moves..." He mumbled to himself, his brows furrowing, "Four moves? I-I've heard that before. Where have I heard that before?" Then he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Please, just forget. I need you to forget."

'I need you to hold me again.'

"Get out of my head!" Jack's voice rose with panic. He flinched away from me as much as he could but Isaac kept him pinned and helpless.

"I'm gonna make everything okay again. I promise." I fought harder against him, willing my power to work faster. Jack moaned and I glanced up to see his face contorted with pain.

"Please!" He begged me, grimacing, "Please, stop! Marty, please. It hurts." I tried harder, and a choked sob escaped his throat. "Marty, please! It hurts! It hurts! You have to stop! Please!"

"I wish you hadn't found out, Jack, and one day I'll be sorry about this."

"Wait. Wait, no!"

I pushed my power harder than I ever had before.

A horrifying scream of pure agony ripped from Jack's throat. But the walls of this house were built to withstand hurricanes. I was the only one who could hear him. With one last burst of effort, I overpowered the walls of his grace and my power flooded his mind, wiping away any memories of what I was. His scream faltered into groans and those softened into whimpers and Jack's body went limp.

Isaac let go and the Nephilim collapsed but I caught him before his head hit the floor. Carding my fingers through his hair, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Picking him up, I carried him to my bed and laid him there. He weighed more than I did, obviously, but he didn't feel very heavy to me. I laid down beside him, hugging him around the middle and pressing my face into his chest.

Then I finally cried.

"I hope you can forgive me before I'm sorry. Because I'm a liar and don't think I'll ever really regret this."

***

"You hear something?" Sam asked, perking up. Castiel sat dutifully on a large black bolder, watching the house. The angel flicked his eyes to Sam and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head before focusing back on the house.

"Hm? Uh, no." Dean hardly spared a glance. He was too busy drawing inappropriate words in the sand with his foot. Sam frowned.

"Weird." He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he paced back and forth across the moonlit sand.

"Martina threw a picture frame from her window and it shattered against the rocks approximately sixty-two feet south-east of where you are standing," Castiel informed him, "Perhaps that's what you heard."

Sam shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no. It, uh, it wasn't that. I just- I-I coulda' sworn I heard someone..." He trailed off. 'Scream,' He wanted to say. The sound had been like a phantom pain; intense yet insubstantial.

'Just like the visions...' Sam thought. But no. That wasn't possible. He hadn't had a vision or any manifestation of psychic abilities for going on twelve years! He was probably just imagining things. Sam pushed the thought away as soon as it had come. It was impossible... Right?

Yet still, his eyes wandered to the window on the upstairs floor of the dark house; the only window with a slim shaft of light peaking through the curtains. Because what if...

No .

No. Everything was fine, Jack would have alerted them if there was any danger - or at least - the brothers and their angel would've been able to see if Jack thought there was any danger. Judging by the lack of explosions, Sam could assume that everything was fine.

There was no trap here after all. Although, if he thought about it, that may have been the trap in itself. That monster called Felix had lured Marty back here to relive the most painful day of her life. There had been no vamps waiting to do her any physical harm, but Felix didn't need them to. He just wanted that poor, sweet, little girl to hurt.

And, boy was she hurting.

Sam knew how it felt to lose a brother. He knew how it felt to watch his brother die twice. Hell! Sam had watched Dean die more than one hundred times on the one hundred worst Tuesdays of his life. It had made him feel empty inside - hollow. Like somebody had scraped out everything inside of him, the good and the bad, and had left an utter nothingness in its place. And in the face of all that nothing, fear had gripped Sam's heart like a vice. Fear of that emptiness - of all the unspeakable things it made him willing to do. Sam had been willing - eager even - to do whatever it took if it meant filling that awful hole inside of him.

That was what scared him. It was that ruthlessness. It was that titanium will he'd always shied away from. It was when he'd looked into a mirror and seen John Winchester staring back at him. Deep down, that was what both Sam and Dean had always feared the most. Becoming their father. Becoming the shell of a man that had raised them.

Sam could see the beginnings of a similar shell-forming in Martina. He had seen it when they'd rescued her from that shed the week before. Her shell wasn't made of hate like John's had been - not completely at least. Marty's shell had come from grief and fear. She was just trying to hide; both from Felix and from the shell of a person that she was becoming. Jack had told Sam about Marty's memory gaps - about how she couldn't remember what had happened in the shed after she had left. Sam knew that traumatized people tend to blot things out, it was common. But things like the shed and her return to her childhood home could only serve to send Marty further into her shell.

And the last thing the world needed was another John Winchester.

"These kids were livin' a dream, aye Sammy?"

Sam frowned as Dean's mumbled words knocked him from his train of thought. "H-how do you mean?"

"I mean, look! They had everything!" He said, gesturing from the white sand of the beach to the black rocks to the brine woods. His tone and expression grew sober. "Just like a little fairy-tale. And, I mean, three psychics? Those kids - they had a lotta' potential. So smart and talented and now..." Dean trailed off with a frown.

"Yeah..." Sam quietly agreed. Dean turned to his brother with a pensive expression.

"Got me thinkin', maybe-" He sighed. It was hard for him to say and he didn't want to say it. Even though Dean knew that Marty was capable of more than she seemed and that she could affect his emotions, he didn't really care.

Well, he did  care . Dean hated people screwing with his head or his feelings, period. But somehow Marty was different. He didn't really care to admit it, but Dean had always wanted a daughter. A sweet soul he could love and care for but definitely, with a badass side, he could bestow his knowledge upon. Claire was a close as he had gotten but she had already grown up and she didn't want his help. To Claire, Dean was only a painful reminder of all she'd lost.

And, of course, there was Emma.

But Dean didn't like to think about her.

Thinking about Emma was too painful.

But Marty was still young, and she didn't see Dean the way Clair did. Marty looked at Dean with hope in her eyes and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

Jack had used to look at him that way. Jack didn't look at him like that anymore.

Because Dean had messed up with Jack. He could admit that now. He'd messed up and he'd messed up bad. Things had gotten better between them; little by little over time. But Jack hadn't even been five days old when Dean had promised to take his life. After that, Jack had only watched Dean with fear. Not hope. Just sheer friggin' terror on his face whenever the elder Winchester walked into the room. And though things had gotten better, they'd always have that promise between them.

That promise from the night when if Dean had only been a better person he could have made things better and not worse like he always did. (Because he was always making things worse. Always too selfish. Always screwing things up. Always getting people hurt. It was always him, always his fault.) Dean could've snatched that knife from Jack's hands and told him it was going to be alright even if it didn't seem like it would be. And Dean could've given the kid the kind of hug he should've been given the day he was born; a father's hug, just like Castiel would have given him if he'd been alive to do it. Because that was Cas's son. That was Cas's kid! Oh, God... Cas... How could Dean have let his best friend down so horribly? Cas, who had given everything up for him and his brother. Cas had saved them time and time again at his own expense. Cas, who would bleed every drop of blood he had with a smile on his face, all in the name of the Winchesters. How could Dean have betrayed him like that? It wasn't enough for Dean to just let the angel die!  (It was Dean's fault, of course. It always was. How couldn't it be? He could have prevented it. If he'd just been a little faster or a little smarter.) No, he had to go and tear that innocent kid to pieces just cause he was sad. (So, selfish. How could he be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish?) Cas had trusted Dean with his son and Dean had repaid him with the promise to take Jack's life. No wonder Jack still could hardly bear to look Dean in the eyes. How could he? Dean wasn't meant to be a father to anyone. He was too frickin' selfish for that.

But this time, things would be different. This time around, Dean would be different - he would be better. For once in his life, he would be selfless and he'd do the right thing even if it possibly meant giving up his only chance to raise a little girl. Because, despite being tainted by darkness and tears, there was still so much good inside Martina Linville. She had so much potential, with the right chances, she could grow up to be great. But she would need those right chances and she wouldn't get them if she stayed with the Winchester's broken little family. All they brought to people was tears and death.

Dean didn't want that for her. She deserved better. Just like Dean himself and his brother had deserved better. She deserved to live a life free from all this pain - a good life, a happy life. Dean wanted that for her. Dean just wanted to help. That was all he'd ever wanted. The last thing Marty needed was more darkness in her life. She didn't need them in her life.

She didn't need him in her life.

So, Dean would be selfless and he would let her go and he would give her the chance to shine like the stars she loved so much. It was probably the most fatherly thing he could do for her. 'Cause Dean just wasn't cut out to be a Dad.

But, oh, did he wish he could be one. Even though he knew that Marty's empathic abilities were probably what was making him feel so strongly about her, Dean couldn't help but go along with it. It wasn't like she was stuffing thoughts in his head; his feelings may have been bolstered but Dean's mind was his own. Dean had always wanted a daughter, Marty hadn't made that up that wish, she'd just reminded him of it. He felt awful about how he had treated Jack and craved a chance at redemption for his mistakes; Dean had made those choices, all Marty had done was exist to give him a chance. Sure, she was rioting his emotions. But what did that matter? Because Dean wanted this and damn it! This felt real!

But he couldn't have it.

Because Dean, and his brother, and their angel, and - yes - even Jack -- it was all some sick, screwed up, god damn beautiful tragedy -- But they were the last thing Martina Linville needed.

So, Dean would be selfless.

"Thinkin' about what?" Sam's question shook Dean from his reverie and back to what he'd been meaning to say.

"Maybe we should put her into the system after all this," He said, thoughtfully, though there was regret in his tone also. Sam blinked twice, shaking his head.

"W-what? The system? You mean the foster system?" He asked, incredulously.

"Yeah? Something wrong with that?" Dean responded. Sam gaped at him.

"Is something wrong with that? Dean, everything is wrong with that!" He exclaimed. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Sam didn't let him. "We made Marty a promise! Just this morning you said she was part of the family. Was all that just talk?"

"No, but-"

"Then what the Hell was it, Dean? Because you can't just go back on something like that! We said we'd take care of her," Sam huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at his older brother.

"And that's exactly what we'd be doing," Dean argued, "Giving her a place that's safe."

"Who would take her in? She's fourteen and she's got more trauma than some war veterans, I don't-"

"Exactly!" Dean cut him off. "The kid's got issues! She needs help, the professional kind."

"Since when do you promote therapy? Sam scoffed.

"When it doesn't involve me," Dean grumbled. Sam shook his head, getting back to the point.

"Throwing her on a bunch of strangers with no clue what she's been through, and who couldn't possibly understand her even if they knew, isn't going to help her! She'd get tossed around or thrown into some group therapy home till she's eighteen and then they'd dump her back on the streets where we found her! How is that taking care of her?"

"It's getting her out of this life, Sam," Dean said firmly. Sam glared.

"You mean getting her out of your life," The younger brother spat lowly.

"What did you just say?" Dean asked dangerously.

"You heard me."

"You have somethin' ya wanna say to my face, Sammy?" Dean growled.

"Dean," Castiel said his name like a warning, his hand gripping Dean's shoulder, holding him back.

"Yeah, I do." Sam's nostrils flared and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. "I'm not gonna stand by and watch you do this again."

"Do what again?" Dean questioned, Cas' hand on his shoulder reminding him to keep calm.

"This thing you do. Anytime a kid comes along, you do this. You act all annoyed, then right as you start liking having 'em around something happens and you realize the responsibility and it freaks you out so you back off and you push 'em away."

"I don't do that," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? 'Cause you did it with Kevin, you did it with Claire, you did it with Jack, and now you're doing it again right now with Marty. The second things get real, you get scared and you run away." Sam kept eye contact with Dean, challenging him to look away. Dean clenched his teeth, his pride preventing him from losing the contest of wills.

"Quit fooling yourself, Sam. Look at me!" Dean's voice broke just a little. But he cleared his throat, quick to cover his mistake. "Er, at us, I mean. We can't raise a kid!" He protested.

"We raised Jack," Sam countered.

"Because there were  literally no better alternatives!" Dean seethed. Sam opened his mouth but Dean wasn't done. Hyperaware of Castiel's presence just behind him, guilt ate at his heart. But Dean had never been very good at apologies. "And I even screwed that up! I'm not Dad material, Sam. I'm just not!"

His outburst of emotion made Sam blink, rendering him momentarily speechless. He could have spoken his next words gently but pride made them come out like acid.

"I don't think that's what Ben thought," He hissed. Sam knew it was a low-blow bringing up Ben. That wound was still sore.

"Yeah?" Dean laughed but there was no humor in it. "WELL LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT!" He yelled. Sam tensed but didn't back off.

"Something isn't real because it lasts, Dean," Sam said, speaking just a little bit gentler now. "For however short a time, Ben had a dad that loved and cared about him. For however short a time, you made him happy. You say you're not dad material, but that's not what I saw. If that's what you're so worried about, then don't be. 'Cause you made an pretty awesome dad, Dean, even if Ben doesn't remember."

Dean sighed in defeat. "We have nothing to give her, Sam."

"We have trust and understanding, a-and that's more than some random foster home could give her."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't have to be random."

"What do mean?"

"Jody," He suggested, "I mean, she's already got Claire and Alex. What's one more?"

Sam sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's got Claire and Alex-" He paused giving his older brother a pointed look. "-  And Patience and Kaia. What's one more? That's only five emotionally unstable teenage girls to take care of, on top of a full time job as a sheriff, and hunting to worry about too."

"I agree with Sam," Castiel spoke up, "We cannot simply dump yet another troubled youth onto the already burdened shoulders of Sheriff Mills." Sam gestured to the angel as if accentuate his point.

"But at least she'd be safe," Dean argued, pursing his lips into a thin line.

"From monsters, sure," Sam agreed, nodding. Dean could sense a ' but ' coming. "But not from herself."

"Jody could help Marty just as much as we could - probably more!" He said. Dean could hear Sam grind his teeth in frustration, but Cas held up a hand to speak.

"I don't think that's true, Dean."

"Why not?" Dean asked the angel.

"'Why not?' Haven't you been listening?" Sam exclaimed. Cas shot the younger Winchester a look and he fell silent.

"I am sure Sheriff Mills is a competent and kind woman; however, Martina does not know or trust her. Sending her to live there would only be marginally better than shipping her off to a stranger," The angel stated, evenly.

"What's that gotta do with what Sam said?" Dean asked. Cas gave him a long-suffering look but continued in perfect patience.

"As weary as I am of Martina's true motives and intentions, I think it is plenty clear the choice she faces after the termination of her family's killer. That is, if she has not made her decision already."

Dean's face scrunched with confusion. "What choice is that?"

"The choice of continuing to live free from the threat of Felix Monroe, or..." The angel trailed off, frowning. His tone made Dean feel like there was a knot in his chest.

"Or what?" He pressed, cautiously. Cas sighed.

"Or to end her life and return to her family," Cas finished, soberly.

Dean was stunned. He hadn't thought- He had never realized.

"Wait, whoa. Are you telling me Marty wants to commit suicide?" His eyes were wide with fear and alarm. She was too young for that. Too young to want to kill herself. No. She couldn't. Dean wouldn't let that happen. "Where's this coming from?" He demanded. Sam glared at him.

"She told her little brother she'd be with him soon. Combine that with the scars on her wrists, and it's really not that hard to figure out," He said, coolly.

Scars? Dean understood now. That was why she was always wearing long sleeves, even in the sweltering heat of Florida. Sam took advantage of his older brother's silence.

"Think about it, Dean," He pushed, "Sending her away from first people she's allowed herself to get attached to in five years? You think that will help?"

The thought made Dean reconsider but Sam had more to say.

"A-and think of Jack! You've seen how much he cares about her. I've seen him smile more in these last two and a half weeks than he did in the five months since we got him back from Apocalypse World. What do you think would happen if he found Marty laying in a pool of her own blood? What do you think that would do to him?"

"It would kill him." Dean sighed, nodding in agreement and Sam cracked a smile.

"I mean, we both know he loves her, Dean. And I-I don't mean like a sister," The younger brother said, fondly. Dean chuckled and the tension in the air cleared.

"Yeah, there's definitely a thing there." He shook his head, grinning. "I mean, it's totally weird but it's a thing." Sam nodded and shrugged.

"Well, I dated a demon. I don't think I can judge."

"You can say that again!" Dean laughed.

The sudden chime of a phone ringing cut through the cool nighttime air like a knife and Dean reached to answer. The smile dropped from his face as soon as he caught a glance at the screen.

"Who is it?" Castiel asked.

"Blocked," Dean answered, apprehension filling his voice, "Three guesses as to who." He mumbled, sliding a finger across the screen to pick up the call and putting it on speaker.

"This is Dean Winchester," He announced as the line connected.

There was no voice on the other side of the call.

"Hello?" He tried again.

Again nothing.

Dean could hear someone breathing but they didn't speak. The breaths sounded ragged and uneven like the person was out of breath. There was background noise as well, a deep rumbling that seemed to increase in volume as time wore on. Without warning, the sound of a deep bellowing horn blared from the phone's speaker. It was the sort of horn that typically accompanies a low rumbling noise. It was the sort of horn that accompanies a really, really big train. The sound of the horn grew louder but soon began to fade as the train passed by whoever had been holding the phone. Something told him this wasn't a simple case of a butt-dial. The situation unnerved for some reason he couldn't name. It was like a scene from a movie.

"Tell me who you are or I'm hanging up," Dean said, his voice demanding.

"I-I would'nt d-do that if I were y-you!"  A desperate, ragged voice called from the phone. Dean had gotten it wrong. The person on the phone wasn't Felix. The person on the phone was a little girl and she wasn't out of breath. She was terrified.

"Why not?" He asked, cautiously.

"B-because little Pamala o-only get's this one c-call." The voice on the other end sounded oddly robotic despite the words being broken into syllables by the girl's sobs.

"What do you mean?" He wondered.

"She-she's lu-ucky you picked u-up. If you hadn't I'd have t-old my friends to e-eat swe-eet Pammy here! Sh-she's seven, just so you know!"  The little girl choked out.

"Felix," Dean growled, "You're using the little girl to talk for you?"

"Pamala is a c-cute little pup-pet. But she's a-annoy-ing. If she d-doesn't stop s-stutter-ing, I'll tell one of my f-friends to t-ake a bite!"  The little girl whimpered and took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice for the sake of her life. " So, what shall I make Panama say next?"

Dean gritted his teeth together. To his right, Sam looked like he was going to be sick. But this wasn't just sick, this was downright  vile . On his left, Cas looked about ready to rip that monster apart with his bare hands.

"Why don't you talk to me with your own voice, Nessie? Ya scared?" Dean taunted.

"No. That would ruin the fun of the game." The girl spoke slowly, trying her best to stay calm.

"What game?" Castiel demanded, sounding a step away from livid.

"You hunters and your angel have thirty minutes to come and rescue poor, little Pamala. When time is up, I'll tell my friends to- to r-rip her in- into itty-bitty pieces!" The girl let out a panicked sob after finishing the monster's words.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Dean demanded, fuming. "She could be anywhere!"

"No, not anywhere, Dean. She's sitting all wrapped up in the attic of the Florida East Coast Railway Station at Fort Pierce. I might be there with her too, gives you a chance to catch me just to make things interesting. But you better hurry, I hear t-traffic can be a biatch."

"You're gonna pay for this, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

"Watch the language, Dean Winchester. There are children present. You don't wanna spoil little Pamala's innocence, do you?"

Dean was so enraged, he couldn't even speak. Luckily, Sam was thinking the same as he was.

"We're gonna kill you," Sam promised.

"Perhaps. But not before I show y-you the truth."

The truth? What truth?

"This call will end in...

Five...

Four..."

"Stay strong, sweetheart!" Dean called to the little girl on the other side of the phone. "We're gonna come help you!"

"Three...

Two...

One...

...

...

...

Please save me...

...

...

...

I don't wanna die..."

Then the line clicked and the call was over.

Dean clenched his jaw and put the phone away.

"Let's go gank that sick bastard."

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

Lyrics from: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you