#dean thinking he deserves to die young and alone? nightmare.

[monstermoviedean]

what if the last two episodes were a nightmare the empty created to torture cas?

[wren-again]

Don’t You Cry No More

Chuck smiled in his sleep. The Winchesters hugging in heaven. Two brothers and the open road. Game of Thrones in redneck America. Heterosexual ever after. Both dead. Both redeemed. The way it was always supposed to be. He was not to be defeated, he was invincible, the beginning and the end, light and dark. He was everything. Just as it had always been. Destiny, his favourite invention.

In his dream he was still god. In his dream he was not human, he had never been human. In his dream he was not hung from the ceiling. In his dream the blood was not slowly draining from him. In his dream he would never have been too weak to fight off a Djinn.

If he had been kinder to the Winchesters maybe they would have saved him. If he’d been kinder to anyone maybe someone would have noticed he was missing. As it was, no one saved him. No one even knew he was gone. As it was his body rotted and was never found. Maybe Jack knew, maybe not. He had vowed to be a hands off god and he would live up to that promise.

Jack sat in the bunker with his family, a smile on his face with no discernable source. Maybe he was just happy. He hadn’t brought Cas back, not yet. He could, in an instant, but he was a better storyteller than that. In his three years he had watched so many movies, with Dean and Sam and Cas, and he knew that there was a pattern to these things. Three years old and already a better storyteller than his grandfather. He supposed age and wisdom had no correlation, it either was or was not.

All those who Chuck had snapped away had been restored. Sam and Eileen were so happy, it was beautiful to see, and that was helping. Dean had to be the one. Dean had to make the choice. Not for magical reasons, those were irrelevant to a god, but for the success of any future they might have, and for The Story.

Jack had understood instantly, when he absorbed Chuck’s power, the nature of a god. One didn’t have to rule everything, or even control anything. A god was just a writer. Jack didn’t have to tell every story, most of the pieces would fall into place without interference, he just had to choose one. It wasn’t hard. He knew what mattered to this world. Their family, all of them, all those who loved the Winchesters, and the brothers themselves. If he was a god, he decided, he would make it his life’s purpose to heal the Winchesters, to give his family what they had fought so hard to give him. He could do that now. He just had to be patient.

Dean had to be ready. Otherwise he would only push Cas away.

Dean smiled that performative smile. He was happy for Sammy, he was. He really freaking loved Eileen. He loved seeing his brother happy. He was so fucking pleased for them. Claire and Kaia too, adorable, young love. Why was the next generation so much freer? Why wasn’t he born when they were? If he’d been born twenty years later maybe he... maybe Cas...

He was miserable. He tried to hide it. He tried so hard to live his life and just not think. He drank a lot. He got a job and a dog and he was happy. He was okay.

He was not okay.

He fixed cars. He loved cars. He knew how to love. He loved cars and pie and booze and Sam. He loved. He knew what love was. He knew how to feel it.

He buried himself in his work. Engine grease and physical labour. It was enough. It was enough. It was enough. It was-

He didn’t cry every night.

He should have said something.

He was so fucking angry. Why did Cas have to tell him? Why did Cas have to tell him then? Why did Cas have to die? He should have said it back. Fuck Chuck and fuck The Empty and fuck Death for good measure. Fuck himself most of all. He should have said it back.

He should have said it years ago.

He didn’t beat up a car this time. There was a weight in his limbs, a limpness that wouldn’t let him swing a crowbar or punch a wall, he didn’t have the energy.

He threw away his second pillow, the one he’d never used, the one he’d bought just in case. What was the point? His bed would never be filled. He would always be cold, now, empty.

Was Cas conscious where he was? Was he asleep? Dean hoped he was asleep.

Dean didn’t sleep much anymore. Not that he ever had, but it was worse. His sheets were a damp mess most mornings. Nightmares like he hadn’t had since he was freshly out of hell.

He didn’t keep a gun under his pillow anymore. If death came he would let it. What was the point anymore? He was the loose thread. Everyone else was happy, everyone else had found a purpose or happiness or love. He was lost. He had lost everything.

He couldn’t go down to the dungeon anymore. He avoided that room with one excuse or another. Sam was the nerdy one, he could get the files, that was why it was. He wasn’t scared, didn’t fear the dark would come for him and never let him go, or tempt him with some cruel ghost of what could have been.

Dean Winchester wasn’t scared of anything.

Despair. Always despair. A confession repeated on a never ending loop, words he would never speak, events he couldn’t ever bear to recount to Sam. He might as well have lost his tongue for all he could bear to talk. He had never been this quiet. Sam must have noticed, surely, but years of experience had taught him not to ask. Dean cursed his violent rage, all those years of biting Sam’s head off the second he got too close to any hidden truth, he would have given anything for those questions now. He couldn’t bear to broach the topic. He knew he’d only start crying again. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to tell anyone. It hurt too much. Sam didn’t ask and Dean didn’t tell.

If only there was a way to bring Cas back. If only there was something, anything, he could do to save him. Dean wanted to die, but he knew that even in death he wouldn’t get what he truly wanted, so he kept on living. One day after the next. More suffering, more silence.

He’d researched, with a frantic desperation, the first few weeks. He’d contacted every deity, every demon, every nasty little thing that might hold the answer. None of them answered. There was nothing out there. The big bads, all of them seemed to have vanished. Rowena knew as little about The Empty as he did, the angels were unhelpful as always. He wished Jack hadn’t given his powers over to Amara, or Amara hadn’t disappeared.

He’d been surprised when Jack told them, appearing on their doorstep in the dead of night, that he was simply human now. He hadn’t known that was possible, but the kid had no reason to lie. Jack would have brought Cas back already, if he could. It was hopeless, he supposed, and he just had to learn to live like this, with this truth that could never be spoken eating away at him, with an empty space where Cas should be. Alone. Always alone.

Sam didn’t ask. Jack didn’t ask either, Jack just stated a fact, with the simplicity of an all knowing child.

“At least you know he loved you,” that simple smile, a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Dean managed to make it all the way to his bedroom. He managed to lock the door. He started crying the second he was alone. Tears like he hadn’t cried since that first night.

“Dean, you okay?” Sam’s worried voice through the door wasn’t enough to snap him out of it this time.

“Leave me alone Sam.”

It wasn’t fair. Hearing it said out loud just strengthened his certainty that it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. A million potential futures, snatched away the second they became possible. Dean deserved to be happy god damn it!

“Dean, you know you can talk to me, right?”

He should have been able to kiss him before he went. He shouldn’t have had to watch love be snatched away from him while he watched, helpless. He should have been able to make Cas smile like he had, oh so briefly, every day for the rest of his life. He should get to have two pillows on his bed, warmth on the other side.

“I miss Cas,” he sobbed, quietly, in the direction of the door.

“What did you say Dean?”

Dean leaned his head against the wall, cold against his burning skin.

“He loved me. He loved me all these years and I fucked it up Sam. We could have had what you and Eileen have but I was too fucking scared and I left it too late and now he’s gone and there’s nothing I can do.”

“Unlock the door Dean.”

He did as he was told. Not caring if Sam saw him like this. Not bothering to move his head. Screwing his eyes shut as the truth of it all crashed down on him.

“I just want him back. I just need to tell him. Why didn’t I tell him Sam? Three words and I fucking couldn’t and now-“ Dean had ripped his head away from the wall in his rage to turn to look at Sam, only for his words to die out in a strangled sort of noise at what he saw.

His ears were ringing, ringing like they had been that first day, like broken glass was falling around him. Like the most beautiful hideous noise in the universe was threatening to deafen him.

His vision was hyper focussed at the same time it blurred with tears and the surreal nature of what was happening.

Maybe he was just asleep.

“Hello Dean.”

No, this was not the way he dreamed. Everything was too clear, every detail perfect in its imperfection.

“I love you,” he blurted without thought. He couldn’t pause, not this time. He would never stop to process again. Embarrassment and backpedalling and a foot in the mouth held no fear compared to what had come before, the sickening terror of too late, too late. Not too late now. How was it not too late?

He didn’t care.

He flung himself at Cas, not pausing to wonder if Sam was still standing out in that hallway, not caring about anything but this.

His full weight settled on warm solid flesh, angel beneath the trench coat, Cas easily holding Dean to him as he wrapped his legs around his waist and kissed him over and over again. Like he couldn’t breathe unless it was Cas’ air, because he couldn’t, not really.

Jack smiled in the library. He didn’t need to see with regular eyes, not anymore. He didn’t need them to know. Maybe he would tell them that he was still god, if they asked, maybe not. All they needed to know was that everything was good, now. All they needed to know was family, and love, and long nights of peaceful sleep.

That was the story he wrote.

He was a good writer, after all, and he loved his family.

Sam sat down beside him, smiling just as wide as he was, and they sat together for a while. No words were spoken. Sam knew. Sam was grateful. Jack was pleased that someone shared his secret, he was pleased that it changed nothing, and he was especially pleased when Sam reached into his pocket and produced a bar of nougat. Jack took it. He was happy. They all were.

No tears, not now. Never again.

That was what the Winchesters deserved and Jack was oh so willing to give it to them.

Love held no place for selfishness, for limitation, love was infinite. God was supposed to be love, after all, and Jack was going to be a wonderful god.

He reached his arms around his world and held it tight, kept it safe, and somewhere in the bunker Dean did the same.

Dean slept better than he ever had that night, the next, and every night for the rest of his life. With his angel beside him no nightmares could come, only pleasant dreams and even better waking, only a simple life of a simple man and the cosmic being that loved him.

He wanted for nothing.

He was saved.

[waywardrose13]

Mind Over Matter (Fluffy Ending)

Summary: She sold her soul for her sister, and saying goodbye to her family and the one she loved most was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Five years later, she finds herself topside, and Y/N walks into a whole new nightmare she never thought she’d have to face.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Dean x OFC

Word Count: 13,876

Warnings: ANGST, soul selling, flashbacks, nightmares, torture, graphic violence, character death, depression, implied suicidal thoughts, lack of appetite/anorexia (sort of), unrequited love, language, injury, self loathing, self deprecation, Dean is a dick, hurtful things said to reader, TW: STRONGLY implied past sexual assault/mentions of

There are a lot of warnings, please let me know if I missed any.

Written for; @spndarkbingo (Square: Somniphobia), @heavenandhellbingo (Square: Escaping Hell), @badthingshappenbingo (Square: Flashbacks), @spndeanbingo (Square: Hell)

Would rather have an angsty ending? Go here!

“This isn’t a good idea,” Jane said, sweeping a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“There are people dying,” I said, grinding my teeth. “We’ve been over this.”

“We don’t know what we’re up against,” she muttered. “We could have at least-”

“No, Jane,” I said, whipping my head around to look her in the eye. She closed her mouth, young eyes looking up at me. “I told you. We can handle this.”

“But Dean said-”

“I don’t give a fuck about what Dean said. He doesn’t get to bench us. He’s not dad,” I said. “There are people dying in this town and this is how we can stop it. If he won’t do it, we will.”

She sighed, biting her lip. “Okay.”

I smiled, putting my hand up to her cheek. “Stay with me. If I say run, you run. Don’t worry about me, okay, little duck?”

She nodded, blinking a few times before letting out a deep breath, following me into the vamp nest.

What we thought was a small nest, turned out to be a nest of about sixteen. We sliced our way through the rooms, our backs to each other as we moved through the barn.

A scream echoed through the room, and I turned to see Jane be picked up by two vamps, my eyes widening. One of them grabbed me from behind, and I let out a frustrated growl as I bucked and squirmed in his hold. I watched with a heavy heart as Jane was held down by one vamp as the other bared its fangs, gripping her chocolate hair in his fist as he sank his teeth into her throat.

“No!” I screamed, thrashing in the arms of the vamp behind me. He laughed, breath hot against my ear as one hand raised to palm at my breast. I growled, writhing with fury.

I reared my head back against his nose, and he loosened his grip enough for me to slip free. I grabbed my blade from the ground and swung it up, taking his head off in one motion.

I honed in on the vamp holding Jane down, kicking the back of his knees. He grunted, dropping to the ground and I swung my blade again, a hot spray of blood coating my face.

“Don’t move,” a voice sounded. I looked up, swallowing as I saw Jane in the other one’s hold. Her back was pressed against his chest as his hands crept to her bleeding throat, her eyes tired and legs weak as she stared at me. My face trembled as anger coursed through my veins, and I raised my blade.

“Let her go,” I hissed, his smirk growing.

“Why? So you can kill me?” He asked, his nose pressed against the side of her head. She flinched.

“I swear to God, you son of a bitch, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” He asked, looking at me again. “You don’t think I’ve got friends in other places? Please. Maybe I’ll take her with me, turn her. Maybe… she’ll be my mate.”

I drew my gun, clicking the safety off. He snarled, hands tightening. “That won’t do any good.”

“No?” I asked. “It’ll hurt through.”

With him distracted, Jane was able to retrieve a syringe of dead man’s blood from her jacket pocket, and she stabbed his thigh, a cry of pain escaping from his chest. She pressed the plunger, and as he realized just what she had done, I watched in horror as he clenched his jaw and flexed his muscles, the sickening snap of my sister’s neck sounding through the room.

“No!” I screamed, running towards her. She fell as he did, and I dropped to my knees, catching her before she could crash to the ground. Tears blurred my vision as I frantically felt for a pulse, pushing her hair back from her face. “No! No! No!”

I shot upright with a cry. My chest heaved as I took in lungfuls of air, my hands coming to wipe my wet cheeks and push my sweat drenched hair from my face. I fisted my hand at the top of my head as I clutched the sheet to my chest, tears still streaming from my sore eyes.

My door burst open, a startled scream leaving me at the sudden intrusion. Sam stood in the doorway, a worried look on his face as he stared at me.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked. I choked on my words, looking away from him.

“She’s… she’s alive?” I asked, squeezing my eyes shut. “She’s okay?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, knowing exactly what I meant. I turned my head towards him again, opening my eyes to look up at him. “She’s alive. I promise.”

I nodded, biting my lip as I was trying to slow my breathing down. I looked past him, spotting Dean in the hallway with his arms crossed and a hard look on his face. My heart panged, longing to be in his arms again. But I knew what I did hurt him. I watched with a frown as he turned and walked away, Sam still staring at me.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked. I nodded, and he murmured a quick “okay” before leaving me alone, closing the door softly behind him.

I laid back, my head resting softly against the pillow as I stared up at the ceiling. It was my second night back, the first time I had tried to sleep since hell. The memories from the dreaded night were slowly coming back to me, and even though I knew she was alive, I still felt the pain of when she died.

The bastard that killed Jane got what he deserved. He was an unrecognizable pile of flesh when I was finished with him. I had packed Jane up into the car, laying her carefully on the backseat before looking at a map, knowing exactly where I would go.

The demon had given me a year, my track record of killing them on top of being Dean Winchester’s girlfriend made the time change from the usual ten years. She had said it was almost poetic, receiving the same amount of time for selling my soul for my sibling as Dean did.

I hadn’t regretted it. Jane deserved to live more than I did, and I couldn’t imagine a world without her smile in it. She touched everyone around her, instantly filling someone’s day with light. Whereas I, on the other hand, was full of dark thoughts and anxiety. I wouldn’t be missed as much as her. And I couldn’t let her die. Knowing I would never hear her laugh or see her smile killed me.

So I made a deal. She knew I did something as soon as she woke up. She wasn’t stupid. She was furious with me for a long time, but I didn’t regret it once. Eventually, she understood, and we shed a lot of tears for a while, until I wouldn’t let her cry over me anymore.

Dean didn’t speak to me for weeks after I told him. It nearly killed me then and there. He was the only man I had ever loved. I hadn’t had many chances, anyway. He was my first real relationship, and I had fallen hard and fast. I was only twenty-two, and he was nine years my senior. Our relationship had been viewed as taboo from many people around us, but we couldn’t be bothered with that.

When he finally came back to me, we didn’t leave his bedroom for a good three days. We’d talk and make love, or simply lay with each other, basking in each other’s presence. I’d only seen him cry twice before, but he cried a great deal over those few days.

When the year was up, the bunker was quiet. Dean never left my side, and his hand never left mine. The thought of leaving him behind was absolute torture, and it made it worse when he frantically searched the books for a way out.

“There has to be something, dammit! Those old pricks had to have found a way!” Dean yelled, throwing yet another book across the room. I jumped as it collided with a lamp, both clattering to the ground, the bulb in the lamp shattering.

“Dean, please!” I said, taking his hands in mine. He shook me off, riffling through the bookshelves. “Dean!”

“No! I won’t give up! There has to be away out of this,” he said. “There has to be.”

He frantically flipped through book after book, simply dropping them to the ground when he was finished. “Stop it!”

He froze as my voice pierced his ears, and he turned to look at me.

“You’ll drive yourself insane! There is no way out of this that will end with both me and Jane alive.” He shook his head. “I can hear them, Dean.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

I swallowed thickly. “You know what. You went through it, and it means it’s almost time.”

He shook his head again, lip wobbling as he walked forward, hands cupping my face. “No, no, no. We need more time… I can fix this, I can-”

I silenced him with my lips, eyes fluttering closed as I surrounded myself with him one last time.

“Do me a favour, Dean,” I whispered. “Stop looking. Stop beating yourself up over this. Just know I love you.”

And not ten minutes later, I had walked up the stairs and out the front door of the bunker, sinking to my knees a few hundred feet away, embracing death with open arms, knowing that my sister was sleeping soundly inside.

I woke up buried in a coffin five years later.

I climbed my way out, finding myself in the field a little way behind the bunker. It was my favorite spot, mostly because it was where Dean and I proclaimed our love for each other. It turned into our little space, and I nearly dropped to my knees knowing that’s where he wanted to bury me.

After waking up, the world around me was calming. The field was a brilliant green, the grass taller than I remembered, and more wildflowers had sprouted. Kansas wasn’t known for their many trees, but the big oak that Dean and I would lay under was as great as ever, the leaves rustling in the soft wind. Memories haunted the grounds of the field, replaying the smiles and blushes and gentle caresses that I desperately tried to hang on to in hell.

But they were just that; a memory. A simple thought blown away by the breeze that no longer carried the life and love that once thrived there.

Dean tried to kill me when he saw me. He thought I was a shifter, or a demon. But Sam did the tests after calming him down, he too realized it was me. Sam welcomed me back with wide open arms, arms that I had to talk myself into walking into, and a few tears, but Dean barely said a word, his jaw clenched the whole time and arms crossed over his chest, almost as if he was blocking his heart. When I tried to touch him, he backed away, turning to walk down the hall without a word.

I jumped when I heard his door slam from deep inside the bunker.

So here I was, heart and spirit broken as I lay awake in my old bedroom, obviously not welcomed in Dean’s. Jane was out on a hunt with a friend, apparently. Sam had filled me in on what had happened within the years I was gone.

It killed me that Dean was so sour towards me. It made me realize that he must hate me for leaving, and that he had fallen out of love with me. I wondered if he found someone new. And although I knew he probably would, it still hurt all the same.

It wasn’t my place to feel that way anymore, though.

His reaction was odd, and the insecurities and self doubt that I had when Dean and I first got together began to creep into my mind. I never thought he’d give me the light of day, let alone be with me. And once we were together, it was hard to believe him when he said he wanted to. I couldn’t come up with a reason as to why, but he’d constantly remind me of the multiple reasons why he was, and somehow it would be okay. Eventually, those insecurities faded, but now, I wondered if what he said was really true, or if he simply told me what I wanted to hear.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep, so I turned onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut to try and will the tears away.

***

The next day, I didn’t see Dean at all.

Sam caught me up on Game of Thrones and watched the latest Marvel movies I had missed. But he could tell I was missing Dean. And he could tell I was lying about being okay.

Whenever he’d come near me, I’d flinch. I could no longer be touched, and I stuttered more, something I hadn’t done since I was a teenager.

But he didn’t prod. He let me be, and didn’t say anything when he caught me pouring a good amount of Dean’s whiskey into my coffee; or when I drank straight from the bottle at lunch. He didn’t prod when he realized I wasn’t going to bed for the night, leaving me at the library table with Dean’s whiskey and a glass of ice.

Everytime I close my eyes, flashes from hell would replay; the pain and fear I felt for so long bottling up inside my head with nowhere to go. It was five years Earth time, but six-hundred for me, and not once within those six-hundred years did the torture let up.

The bunker door opened around two in the morning, and Dean stumbled in. I watched as he ignored my presence, making his way to the liquor cabinet. I swallowed thickly as I realized he was looking for his whiskey.

He looked over his shoulder, grumbling under his breath as he stalked towards me, eyes hard as he looked down at me.

“That’s mine,” he said.

“Sorry,” I murmured. He glanced down at the bottle, lip twitching as he saw it was nearly empty.

“You just assume it’s okay to take something that doesn’t belong to you?” He asked, snatching the bottle from the table. He took a drink from it.

“Well I… I just saw it and…” I furrowed my brows as his stare never relented. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal. You’d share your stash with me all the time.”

“That was when we were together,” he snarled. He slammed the bottle down onto the wood, making me flinch.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, looking away from him. Tears pricked my eyes, and I bit my lip trying to keep them down. I couldn’t cry. Not now. Just knowing that he didn’t want to try to be together again made my heart clench painfully in my chest.

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re never sorry. You never were. And you’re not now. You’re back, and you think you just own the place again.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“You and Sam are pals. You’re in my flannel-” I glanced down at the shirt I stole from the laundry room- “And you drink my fucking whiskey.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up!” He yelled. I jumped, an unwelcomed whimper slipping past my lips. “You don’t mean to do anything! Why the fuck are you alive?”

Ouch.

A tear slipped down my cheek and I wiped it away, hoping he didn’t see it. But he did, and his face softened for a moment.

“I’m sorry that me being alive and out of hell has ruined your life so much,” I whispered, getting up to leave.

“Princess…”

I flinched at that, my body tensing up as memories flashed through my head. That nickname from Dean had been turned and used against me in hell. Amel, the demon who had taken me as his own toy, had began to call me that once he realized Dean did.

I vaguely heard him saying my name, and I gasped as his hand landed on my shoulder. I stumbled back, tripping over the leg of the chair and falling onto my ass. I trembled violently, my breaths coming in gasping gulps as I tried to catch it.

Dean lowered slowly down in front of me, shushing me.

“Hey, hey you’re safe,” he said quietly. I shook my head, scooting back away from him. My body shook with panic, and I frantically tried to catch my breath. “Y/N, hey. Look at me.”

“No, I-I can’t,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You can. Give me your hands princ- Y/N,” he said quietly. I didn’t move, and he didn’t push me to. He waited until I reluctantly placed my hands in his. They were rougher than I remembered, but still soft; his touch gentle, his fingers caressing my skin slowly. “Match by breathing. That’s it.”

I took a breath with each one he did, trying to calm down. That nickname registered pain that I tried to push away. I should have known it would be too hard to do.

His face was somber, and I allowed myself a good look at it. He had aged well, looking the same other than a few more lines here and there and a more defined face. The crinkles around his eyes had deepened with the years, but his green orbs were the same. They still held that slight sliver of hope that he rarely believed in, and still held the pain. But there was something else, a look I had missed more than anything.

He placed a hand on my cheek for a moment, not missing when I tensed up. His eyes bored into mine, but he pulled away after only a few seconds, standing without a word and walking out of the room, grabbing the whiskey on the way out.

***

“There is nothing you could ever do that would make me hate you,” his voice whispered in my ear. The sun shone brightly through the clouds, warming the air and the grass around us. My fingers ran through the blades of green, eyes trained on the opposite side of the field as Dean’s fingers gently moved my hair back from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “You know that.”

I sighed, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I looked up at him, glancing down to his lips for a moment. “I don’t.”

“Y/N,” he murmured, his hand cupping my cheek as he gazed lovingly at me. A small smile danced on his lips, and his thumb brushed against my skin. “You do. Do you know why?”

“Because we’re soulmates,” I whispered, looking down at the silly title I came up with months ago. ‘Boyfriend and Girlfriend `` wasn’t strong enough, and I had felt it the day we met that we were meant to be. He hummed.

“And you will always be my love,” he said quietly. “There is nothing, nothing, that could ever change that.”

“You’ll move on,” I said sadly, a tear falling from my eye. “You’ll find someone else. As you should. You deserve to be happy but I-”

“Even if I do, I will never feel for them like I do for you,” he said, shaking his head. “Hey. Look at me.”

I hesitated, obliging and meeting his eyes. He used his thumb to wipe away my tears, and he bent down to press a soft kiss to the tip of my nose.

“Hey. I love you, Y/N Y/L/N,” he said, forehead resting against mine. “Always have.”

“Always will,” I finished, my hand coming to rest against the side of his neck. And for the first time since making the deal, I felt okay.

***

I pushed myself up off the floor, steadying myself against the wall as the memory flashed behind my eyelids. Righting myself, I furrowed my brows and followed after Dean, my shorter legs moving faster to catch up to him.

I turned down the hall, spotting him almost to his door. Swallowing thickly, I raised enough courage to say what I wanted to.

“Hey!” I called, voice shakier than I would have liked. Dean stopped, his head turning slightly at the sound of my voice. I swallowed again. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” I saw him stiffen, and I watched as his jaw clenched. He looked down, a sigh heaving through him. “Always have.”

I waited for him to finish it. I waited for a sliver of something to hold on to that told me he still loved me. I just wanted to hear the words.

Always will.

But he stayed silent. He turned his head back, and walked the rest of the way to his bedroom door, not sparing another glance at me as he slammed it behind him.

A choked sob slipped past my lips, and I found myself stumbling down the hall to my room as I did my best to keep my cries silent.

The pain I felt was worse than anything I had endured in hell. It felt as though my heart had been ripped from my chest and crushed beneath his boot. I felt as though there was nothing left for me to fight for.

Except Jane.

She was coming home tomorrow. I would see her. Alive. And I couldn’t wait.

***

His laughs echoed off the cobblestone walls. The telltale sound of his boots clacking against the floors made me itch, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt his fingertips trail along my bare back.

“Look at you,” he hissed, his breath stinking of blood and decaying flesh. He slipped a forked tongue from his mouth, running it along my cheek before his hand came up to cup my breast. I flinched, trying to shrink away, but he simply squeezed harder. “What shall we do today?”

It had been two-hundred hell years. I had been burned, beaten, whipped, abused and assaulted to the point that I had given up fighting. I had been taken off the rack years ago, moved to Amel’s personal quarters.

I heard the crack of a whip, and the crackling of the flames. I tasted the blood with each lash, felt the searing with each burn, and I felt my ribs crack with each blow with a fist.

And finally, after what I thought couldn’t get any worse, I heard his belt jingle, and his hands grip my waist, and it took everything in me not to vomit then and there.

***

Hands were on me.

Strong ones.

Firm ones.

On my arms and the side of my face.

I lashed out blindly, making contact with flesh. The assaulter grunted, and I scampered away, falling off the bed and into a heap of blankets on the floor.

“Jesus! Y/N, it’s just me!” Sam said, his hand pressing against the nostrils of his bloody nose. “You were having another nightmare.”

“Oh, I- Sam, I’m so sorry,” I said, shaking my head.

“No, no, it’s… it’s okay. Nice hit,” he said, a small laugh leaving his lips. I cleared my throat, picking up the blankets and sitting back on the bed.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” I murmured, keeping my eyes down.

“No, it’s okay. Look, I understand. If you ever need to talk-

“I don’t need to,” I said quickly.

“Okay,” Sam said quietly. “But if you do need to-”

“I won’t.” I cut him off again. “I just- I’m just tired. Can I go back to bed?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Of course. Good night, Y/N.”

The door closed behind him, and I collapsed back on the bed, my breathing shaky as I tried to catch it. I didn’t want to close my eyes in fear I would see another memory. I couldn’t bare to be back there, to feel the pain and the crippling fear. I could taste the bile in my mouth at the memory of the feel of his hands on me, and a tear slipped down my cheek.

Sleep would have to wait.

***

Jane was coming back today.

I couldn’t begin to describe my excitement. She didn’t know I came back. Dean seemed to be even more on edge, which confused me more. It still stung to know that he didn’t love me anymore. That he didn’t care.

It had been almost a week since I returned. Each night was plagued with a different nightmare, eventually the mere thought of sleep making my stomach roll. Within that week, Dean had avoided me, and each day turned a little worse.

Sam was walking on eggshells around me, always scared about sneaking up on me or making too much noise. I was skittish, and he was trying to be careful, which I was thankful for. But the excessive worrying became a little much.

I heard the bunker door close in the distance, and my heart fluttered with excitement. I would be seeing my little sister again. Technically she was now older than me, but she would forever be my baby sister.

I jogged out into the library with a wide smile on my face, the first real smile I had since getting topside, not being able to contain the joy. I saw Sam out of the corner of my eye, a low gasp slipping past his lips.

My smile fell as I saw the scene in front of me.

Jane’s lips were pressed firmly against Dean’s, her arms wrapped around his neck. I placed a hand on my stomach as it jumped to my throat. It all made sense now. Why Dean had been the way he was towards me, and why Sam had been so cautious.

A pained whimper sounded from me unannounced, and the two broke apart, Jane’s hazel eyes meeting mine. They widened, mouth dropping open as she took me in.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, walking up the steps into the library. Dean avoided eye contact with me, and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

“She’s back, Jane,” Sam murmured, looking down as well. I felt as though my heart had finally destroyed, this being the last stab to an already broken heart. “It’s really her.”

My sister lunged forward, her arms wrapping tightly around me as she laid her head on my chest, ear pressed against it as she listened to my heartbeat. She let out a sound of joy, rearing back to look me in the eyes, tears swimming in hers.

“I never thought I’d see you again!”

“Here I am,” I whispered, my excitement gone. Her smile faltered, guilt quickly over taking her features.

“Look, Y/N… I-”

“I don’t really want to hear it,” I said, breaking away from her. I closed my eyes and shook my head, clearing my throat as a single tear fell. “I can’t- I can’t deal with this right now.”

She nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Dean finally made his way up into the library, his emerald eyes scanning my face.

“Look, I wanted to tell you but… you had just gotten back from hell after five years, and I don’t even know how long that is in hell time. I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said quietly.

“So you decided to keep it from me?” I asked angrily. “Because quite frankly, walking in on my sister and the man I love shoving their tongues down each other’s throats hurts a lot more than you just telling the truth.”

“Look, I know this must hurt,” Jane said. I scoffed. “But you gotta understand, we didn’t think you were coming back.”

“When did this start?”

“Few years ago,” Dean muttered.

“When?” I pushed.

They glanced at each other. “About a week after you died.”

Dead. I was dead.

It finally killed me.

“What?” I choked. “Dean did you… did you ever love me?”

“Of course I did,” he said quietly. “I just… I had eyes on Jane, too.”

“You what?” I whispered, vision blurry from tears. “When we were together?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I… I can’t deal with this right now,” I muttered, turning and taking off down the hall. My body surged with anger and hurt, Dean’s words bouncing around the inside of my skull. I was shocked. Shocked that it had taken them a mere week to get over me and begin seeing each other.

But truthfully, should I have been so surprised?

My whole life, I had been the outsider. I was the other sister. I was the other one who hunted with the Winchesters. I was the one who was invisible, so easily forgotten that people I had met a dozen times would look right through me with no recollection as to who I was. It was always Jane; Jane, Sam and Dean, the hunter trio that took on the world’s monsters. The trio with an angel friend and a debt that needed repaying by the King of Hell.

And then me. The one who was seemingly always in the background. The one left behind on celebratory toasts and claps on the back. The one who was never noticed missing until it was too late. I was always someone's second choice, never the one someone thought of first or wanted first.

The one who was forgotten, the one who was given up on one too many times to count.

I locked my bedroom door, a heart-wrenching sob coming from deep within my chest as it all settled in. I always assumed Dean would find someone new, I had hoped. I just wanted him happy. But once I saw no one else in the bunker, I thought he was single. That maybe we could pick up where we left off. But no, he was with my sister, and had been since I died.

He had wanted her when I was still alive and sharing his bed.

I curled up into a ball on my bed, tears staining the pillow case, knuckles turning white with how tightly I was gripping the blanket. My cries echoed off the walls of my room, and I didn’t care who heard me. I was hurting too much to care.

At this point, I would have rather been dead. If I couldn’t come back to Dean, or to my sister, what else could I do? I could never look at them the same again. Knowing they were together in that way was much too painful to suppress.

I was tired, but I couldn't go to sleep. With sleep came the nightmares, ones of my time in hell that I couldn’t bare to relive. I was scared of what played behind my eyes when they closed. So the simple solution to that, would be to keep them open.

I heard a knock on my door about an hour after I left the library. I ignored it, a few more knocks following a few moments after. Whoever it was, didn’t pry, and I heard the retreating footsteps after a little while.

Knowing Dean had began to have feelings for Jane while we were still together was heartbreaking. My own sister. The one I sold my soul for, only needed a few days to fall into bed with the love of my life. That’s what stung; is that I’d have to live with the fact that he would choose my sister over me, just like everyone else in my life.

***

I was exhausted the next morning. My eyes were heavy and I struggled to keep them open, knowing I’d need lots of caffeine just to get to noon. But I’d gladly put up with the tiredness if it meant not having the nightmares.

I shuffled to the kitchen, doing my best to stay out of sight. But of course, both Dean and Jane were in the kitchen, low whispers being heard from outside the doorway.

I took a deep breath before entering, their conversation coming to a halt. They both watched as I took a cup, pouring a generous amount of coffee into it before setting it on the table, turning and reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a bottle of rum.

I poured a few cap fulls of the alcohol into the black liquid, ignoring the stares from my sister and my ex.

“Don’t worry. It’s not because of you two,” Sam said, looking away from the staring eyes. “She does this every morning.”

“Why?” Jane asked.

Dean let out a breath. “She spent five years in hell,” he murmured. “It does shit to you.”

I sipped the coffee, grabbing a banana from the bowl on the counter and leaving the kitchen.

“Wait!” I heard Dean say. I ignored him, heading back to my room. I heard him follow me anyway, and I tried my best to hold my tongue. “Y/N, please.”

He grabbed my arm unexpectedly, causing me to jump, making me drop the mug to the ground. It shattered at my feet, the burning liquid splashing against my ankles as I fell back against the wall.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, holding his hands up. Sam and Jane ran out into the hall.

“What happened?” Sam asked, worried eyes trained on me, Jane’s trained on Dean.

“I just… I grabbed her and I scared her,” Dean answered. “I didn’t mean to.”

I trembled, backing up slightly. Which proved to be a mistake when I stepped onto a piece of the ceramic, a yelp bouncing off my tongue. I tripped backwards, falling onto my ass and flinching away from Dean when he tried to catch me.

“Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t touch me!” I said, scooting back away from him. I reached down and ripped the ceramic from my skin, a gush of blood oozing down onto the tile. I used the wall for support as I got to my feet, wincing when I tried to put weight down onto my hurt foot. “Just fuck off.”

“Let me help you back to your room,” Dean said, moving towards me again.

I took a few steps back. “No. Leave me alone.”

“But your foot-”

“I’ve had worse, Dean,” I said, throwing him one last glance before turning around.

I collapsed onto my bed when I got back to my room, thinking back to a simpler time. A time where I could turn to Dean and cup his cheek or hold his hand, where I could curl into him at night.

I let out a frustrated growl, looking down at my foot in the light of the nightstand lamp. I gently picked out a few stray pieces of ceramic, wincing only slightly as they ripped through my skin each time I tugged on one.

The only thing that kept me going when I was in hell was the thought of Dean. The only thing that kept me from ending it completely after I was topside, was Dean. The thought of seeing him again gave me enough willpower to fight through the nightmares and the memories. For a long time, he was the oxygen to my flame. He kept me going, kept me from ending it all; even before hell. And the mere thought of him brought me back to life, the thought of being in the arms of the one I called mine was more than enough to fight for.

But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t call him mine, and I couldn’t fall into his arms. I couldn’t curl into his body at night, seeking the comfort I so desperately craved. I couldn’t kiss him, or trail my fingers along his skin as I traced the freckles along his cheeks. Instead, it was my sister doing those things, the one person who I was sure I loved before Dean came along. She was my best friend, my other half, the one I sold my soul for. And she had intertwined herself into Dean mere weeks after my death.

***

“Hey,” Dean whispered. My eyes fluttered open, squinting, trying to focus on him in the dark. A lazy smile was pointed towards me, his hand softly pressed against my cheek. I smiled back, letting a sigh of content fill the space between us as my E/C eyes met his emerald ones. “I love you.”

He pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose, one to my forehead, and finally my lips, whispering one last “love you” before tucking me into his side, his chin resting on my head as he brought the sheet up over our bare bodies.

***

A knock sounded on my door, and I wiped away the tears, sniffling and opening the first aid kit.

“Y/N?” The soprano voice said gently. I sighed, picking up the alcohol pad and needle.

Jane opened the door, stepping inside silently. She stood there for a moment, watching as I prepped the needle. She then bit her lip, closing the door and making her way towards me, sitting gently on the bed beside me.

“Hey,” she murmured, hazel eyes trained on me. I pierced the needle through my skin, lip twitching at the sting, but staying relatively still. I weaved the needle in and out, sewing my skin back together.

If only it were that easy to do to a broken heart.

“Look,” she began, taking a deep breath. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but… I care about him. A lot. And… and I know that he was yours and I know you love him. And I’m sorry. I just never thought you were coming back.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to hear this.” I set the needle down after tying off the thread, lathering the wound in neosporin and covering it with liquid bandage. I ripped open the gauze packet.

“Y/N, I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I am. But, I’m not going to back away just because you’re back,” she said. I stopped what I was doing, head lifting to narrow my eyes at her. She nearly flinched at the cold look.

“Did I ask you to do that?” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not that much of a bitch.”

“I didn’t mean it like that I just… I know you still love him but he and I are together now,” she said.

I focused back on wrapping the gauze around my foot. “Do you love him?”

She opened her mouth, closing it not a second later. I heard her sigh, watched from my peripheral vision as she clasped her hands together.

“I… I care about him. Very much,” she said quietly.

“But do you love him?” I repeated, placing a small piece of tape on the gauze to keep it together, grabbing the wrap next. I looked up at her. “Do you love him, Jane?”

She bit her lip again, looking down at her lap before shaking her head.

I scoffed, unwinding the wrap. “Look, Jane. I love you. You’re the only person in the world that I truly know I love. I would do anything for you.”

“You have,” she interrupted.

“And I know that I’ve made mistakes in the past. But I would never- never- be with someone you were in love with after you were gone. Because even if you weren’t here, I would never be able to do that to you,” I said, finishing bandaging my foot. I put everything away in the kit, clasping it back up.

“And that’s what makes this so much worse,” she whispered, wiping a tear. “Because I know that you never would have done this to me. And I feel horrible. But I can’t give him up.”

“He doesn’t love me anymore, Jane,” I muttered. “It’s not like he’d let you go so easily.”

“What are you talking about? Of course he still loves you,” she said, shaking her head.

“No, he doesn’t. You should see the way he acts towards me, and if he was able to get over me so fast…”

“Get over you?” She asked. “He isn’t over you.”

“How can you say that?” I said.

“He still says your name,” she said quietly. “In his sleep. He’ll say how he misses you… how he loves you. It hurts but… I know that he can never love me like he did you. And it’s not fair to want that from him when I don’t love him back.”

“He doesn’t love me, Jane,” I said harshly. “He said he had feelings for you when we were together, and it took him a week to get over me.” I sighed, rubbing the base of my palm against the bridge of my nose. “I’ve never had great luck with guys. Dean… he’s the love of my life, but I knew he was going to move on. I urged him to. I just didn’t know I would be coming back to him and my sister, and I didn’t know it would hurt this much.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane whispered.

“I don’t think I’d be able to be… intimate with him anyway,” I murmured.

“Why not?” She asked.

I swallowed the bile in the back of my throat, closing my eyes. Memories replayed through my mind; memories that sent shivers down my spine and made my skin crawl. I turned my head away from her, biting my lip. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I heard her breath hitch in her throat as she put two and two together. “Y/N I’m-”

“Don’t. Please… don’t,” I said.

She sighed. “He’d understand something like that. That sorta thing isn’t everything to him.”

“Yeah but I wouldn’t be able to provide that and I don’t think he’s going to want to spend the rest of his life never having sex again,” I said. “Besides, he’s with you. I’m not going to have to worry about that anyway.”

“He loves you, Y/N,” she said. “You. Not me. He cares for me and I know that it sucks he started feeling something for me when the two of you were together but… it never grew into something like the two of you had. I’m telling you, I can tell. He talks about you in his sleep, but he avoids the topic of you when he’s awake. I can tell it hurts him too much to talk about. And he keeps a picture of you in his wallet and in the glove compartment in the Impala.”

“What?” I said, surprised. “He does?”

“I’ll catch him looking at it sometimes when he thinks I’m not looking. I’ll be in bed sometimes and I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone. But he’s in the library, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and your picture in the other,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Her hazel eyes locked on mine.

“Why are you apologizing? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. When someone has feelings as strong as he had for you, they don’t just go away.”

I stared at her for a moment, heart clenching in my chest at her words. I wasn’t sure if I should believe her. His actions had shown otherwise, but she never had given me any reason to not believe her.

“Why can’t you let him go?” I asked, looking away again.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think… I think because when you were gone, he was the closest thing I had to you. You two were so in sync and he loved you so much… I dunno. I guess it made me feel closer to you when you were gone.”

“Well I’m here now,” I said.

“You’re here now.” She smiled smally, swallowing thickly. “It’s my fault you were gone in the first place.”

I shook my head, brows furrowing as I took her hands in mine. “No, don’t say that.” I bent my head a little, meeting her downcasted eyes. They were watery, and her face was written with guilt. “I would rather spend a million lifetimes in hell than let you die.”

I hugged her, bringing her head to my shoulder like I did when she was young. She smelled the same, her hair cut to right above her shoulders like she always liked. She was more slender, but she was Jane.

“I missed you, big sis,” she whispered, squeezing me tighter.

“You have no idea, little duck,” I said. “No idea.”

***

I stayed in my room for the rest of the day. I was more tired than I had ever been in my life, but the mere thought of sleep made my chest tighten with fear. I was emotional after the talk with Jane. If what she said was true, I was torn. I couldn’t just sit back and watch the love of my life and my sister be together. I wanted to leave, I needed to leave, in order to keep my own sanity. But then again, it would hurt too much to leave the bunker. I wouldn’t get to see Dean anymore, even if I didn’t see him much anyway. And Jane wouldn’t be with me, and I couldn’t protect her.

A small voice in the back of my mind, one that sounded eerily close to the demon of my nightmare, told me they didn’t want me here. They hadn’t looked for a way to get me out of hell. Dean moved on all too quickly. And he and Jane were together.

Maybe they were sneaking around behind your back, the voice hissed. Maybe they just couldn’t wait until you were gone so they didn’t have to hide anymore.

I bit my lip, letting out an angry breath. Even separated by different worlds, Amel found a way to get to me.

I fell back onto my bed, groaning as a knock on my door echoed through the room.

“Come in,” I said without sitting up. The door creaked on its old hinges, a face poking into the room.

“Hey,” Sam said. “There’s a hunt not too far from here. I don’t know if you’d be up for it… probably not but I thought I’d offer just in case.”

I looked over at him. “Uhm… I dunno, Sam. I don’t know if I want to throw myself back into it quite yet. I’m out of practice. I’d slow you down.”

“You could just tag along,” he said. “You wouldn’t have to hunt if you didn’t want to. You could research, take notes. If you don’t want to be alone, that is.”

“Jane and Dean are going too?” I asked quietly. Sam swallowed.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it’s better if I stay here,” I muttered. Sam sighed.

“You can’t avoid the two of them forever,” he said.

“I’m not avoiding Jane. Just Dean,” I told him. He scoffed.

“Right. Look, I can stay if you want. Or one of them can. Hell, I could call Cas, see if he wants to head down here for a little while,” Sam offered.

“No, I don’t want to be a burden or hold anyone back. I’m a big girl, Sam. I’ll be okay,” I said.

He sighed again. “Okay. I’ll see you in a few days, Y/N.”

I nodded, looking back up at the ceiling as he closed the door, once again bathing me in the silent darkness of the room.

***

The bunker was eerily quiet without any other occupants.

It seemed as though every little thing made me jump, and I always felt as though I was being watched, when I knew that was impossible inside the bunker. I was jittery from the pot of coffee I had, needing something to fuel me enough to keep me from falling asleep.

Boredom soon overcame me, and I found myself roaming the bunker halls, turning down corridors I forgot about and relishing in the cool feel of my home again. I hated the fact that I might have to leave. But the sight of Jane and Dean would be too painful to see each day.

Selfish, the voice whispered. You’re sister is happy. Dean is happy. They’re happier without you. Stop moping and get out.

I bit my lip, taking a deep breath at the words. I felt as though I was doing a disservice by being alive. Everyone had been walking on eggshells since I got back, and Jane and Dean had been so awkward around each other and me, and I could tell that they weren’t anything like that before I showed up.

A clang echoed around me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun around, the sound coming from the front of the bunker. I glanced around, reaching into a room and pulling out the first hard thing I could find; which just so happened to be a broken lamp.

I rolled my eyes, holding it up like a bat before quietly making my way through the halls and into the front of the bunker.

Stopping before the entrance to the library, I peered my head around, eyes scanning the room. I sighed in relief at the sight of a familiar duffel bag on the table.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I jumped at the voice, lamp coming back up as a weapon. My eyes flashed to Dean’s, an amused look on his face.

“I… I heard a bang in here,” I said, lowering the lamp. “I came to check it out.”

“With a lamp?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. “Where the hell did you even get that?”

I shrugged. “I found it. That’s not the point.” I set the broken thing down, scrunching up my face. “Why are you back?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping onto his skin. “Well, uh… I got worried. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Why didn’t Sam come back? Or Jane?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Jane was the one who pushed me to come back, actually,” Dean answered. “Said we need to ‘reconnect’ or some shit.”

“Ah, I see,” I murmured. “Well, it was a waste of time. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Dean said. “I can tell.”

“Really?” I deadpanned.

“Yes, really,” he said exasperatedly. “In case you don’t know, I know you better than anyone.”

“Yeah, not anymore,” I said. He sighed.

“When was the last time you ate? You looked like you’ve lost weight.”

I shrugged again. “‘M not hungry.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

I hesitated. “I’m not tired.”

“Bullshit,” Dean growled. “I can see your dark circles and your eyes get all twitchy when you don’t get enough sleep. Why don’t you go sleep and I’ll go out a pick up food?”

He turned to leave, picking up his keys.

“No,” I said. “I’m not going to sleep.”

He stopped. “Why not?”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought of telling him. There was a time where I would tell him absolutely everything. And how I yearned to pour myself to him again, to watch his eyes bore into mine and his hand grasp mine in comfort. But I couldn’t. Not anymore. I couldn’t burden someone else with my constant thoughts, or share the nightmares I experienced on the daily, even when I wasn’t asleep.

His brows furrowed as he watched the wheels turn in my head, how my eyes went out of focus and shoulders slump. I snapped myself out of it and shook my head.

“Because I’m not, okay?” I said. “I’m not tired.”

He sighed, knowing damn well that was a lie. He shrugged, rubbing his forehead and dropping the keys back onto the table.

“Okay. Fine,” he grunted. He walked past me, bumping his shoulder harshly into mine, causing me to flinch. “Why even try.”

I closed my eyes as his footsteps progressively faded away.

***

It was midnight, and currently day three with no sleep. My body was drained, physically and emotionally, and I felt like I might collapse at any moment. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal since before hell, the banana the only thing I ate in three days. But honestly, the mere thought of food made my stomach roll.

I paced back and forth, not allowing myself to rest because I knew I’d fall asleep, and the absolute terror that came with that idea kept me from doing so.

I hadn’t seen Dean for the rest of the night after our encounter. But to be honest, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to see him. He always seemed angry with me, and I didn’t have the energy to be bothered with it.

I wasn’t sure what the appeal of being alive was anymore. I felt utterly alone, and with the memories constantly surging through my head, I felt as though I was living my own personal hell all over again.

***

“I will never get tired of this,” Amel said, patting my hip. I winced, biting my lip as a sear of pain flashed through my side.

The chains that held me up rattled as he yanked my head back by my hair, eliciting a yelp from my throat as he snarled at my ear.

“Beg.”

“No,” I said through my teeth. His forehead dropped to my blood crusted shoulder, a frustrated groan grumbling deep from his chest. He yanked my hair again, a squeal echoing off the walls before he let go, sending the blade that was in his hand flying across the room to clatter against the stained cobblestone.

“Why must you be so insolent?” He yelled, hand gripping my chin. “I have given you every opportunity. Beg. Let me be your master and I can train you into the perfect pet. Your pretty skin won’t be marred and I won’t be so angry.”

“Go to hell,” I seethed, conjuring up all the blood and saliva I could, spitting it into his eye.

He winced, lip curling into a ferocious snarl. He let go of me roughly, swiping an iron rod from the table beside him. Gripping the loose fitting tank top I wore, he pulled me close to him, chains groaning as he brought his arm back, ramming the rod through my abdomen with one, strong thrust of his arm, his hand curling around my throat as he did so.

I cried out, and it spurred him on. He laughed as he twisted the iron, blood coated teeth and feral eyes searing into my brain as he dug his nails into my neck.

***

I only realized I was crying when the pads of two thumbs swiped gently across my cheeks. I was sitting in the corner of the room, eyes staring blankly at the wall across from me as flashbacks danced in front of my eyes.

But a pair of green orbs came into focus, and I watched as he carefully unravelled my balled fists, bringing my palms up to his lips. He pressed soft kisses to each crescent shaped mark left on my skin from my nails, not caring if they were beginning to bleed or not. He eased away the pain with his lips, taking his time to softly brush against each one, barely putting any pressure.

He then kissed both of my wrists, where I once had ugly scars, scars that he, too, kissed under the moonlight and in the safety of our room. But that was simply a memory, one that was brushed away and erased much like the scars on my arms. And as Dean gently pulled my hand to rest against his cheek, it was those memories that flashed before my eyes, not the ones of hell. Memories of smiles and stolen kisses. Memories of soft caresses and long night talks.

Memories that were brushed away, too.

I couldn’t stop him when he leaned forward, his forehead resting against mine. I couldn’t stop him when his hands came up to cup my cheeks. And I couldn’t stop him when he pulled away for a moment, simply to aim a little lower, just enough to press his lips ever so softly against mine.

Suddenly I was wisped away, carried up into the sky by everything Dean. I was surrounded by him; his touch, his smell, his lips. My body reacted in a way of a relapsing addict, and I didn’t think twice before I wrapped my arms around his neck. The thought didn’t occur to me that he was no longer mine, that he was with my sister. No, all I could think of were the times before; before hell, before the deal, before I made a shit show of things and fucked it all up.

If only I had listened, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Jane wouldn’t have died, I wouldn’t have sold my soul and gone to hell, and he wouldn’t have gotten with my sister.

Or maybe he would, the voice said. He said it himself, he had feelings for her well before you bit the dust.

No, I thought. He couldn’t have. The mere thought of that sent me down a path of crippling pain.

But he did, he said. Why wouldn’t he? Jane is so much better than you. Anyone would be better than you.

What the hell was I doing? I was so wrapped up in my own fantasy of Dean, that I hadn’t thought to push him away. I was betraying Jane.

I pulled back, shoving his chest. He fell backwards onto his ass, confusion flashing onto his face.

“What the hell? What’s wrong?” He asked, his tongue running out over his swollen lips.

“What’s wrong?” I scoffed. “What’s wrong is that you’re with my sister now. Not only that, but you’ve acted like I was a parasite since I got back, and you blatantly admitted that you didn’t want me back. Now you come in here, wiping away my tears and-and kissing me?”

“I didn’t see you complaining,” he shot back.

I stood up, and he copied my actions. I didn’t look him in the eyes, but I stood tall, keeping my ground.

“Because I love you, you moron! Of course I wouldn’t fucking complain!” I yelled. “But you are dating my sister!”

I finally looked up at him, just to see him roll his eyes and run a hand through his hair.

“Jesus, you’re acting like a child!”

“I’m acting like a child?” I asked. “Oh, that’s rich, especially coming from you. Make up your damn mind, Dean. Because you’re the one who decided to go have feelings for my own sister while we were still together, and then began shacking up with her not a week after I died-”

“-Hey, you said that I should-”

“-And then proceeded to treat me like absolute shit ever since I got back, and then come in here and kiss me like everything is fine. So don’t tell me that I’m the one acting like a child, Dean Winchester. I have been the most mature out of all of us, because at least I’m not the one keeping shit from the others.”

“Oh really?” He said. “Then why the fuck aren’t you sleeping? Huh? Because you’re keeping that from me.”

“Because it’s none of your damn business!” I shot at him.

“Well it’s none of your business if I decided I want to fuck your sister!”

I took a step back, mouth gaping as my eyes grew wide. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, the echo of his outburst still bouncing around in my head.

I took a deep breath, snapping my mouth shut. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he snarled. He spun around, stalking towards the door. “Don’t think I don’t know what you probably did to get off the rack. I have no doubt in my mind that you were some demon’s whore. And knowing you, you probably fucking liked it. That’s why you’re so messed in the head now.”

I gasped, a tear trailing down my cheek at his words. It was pure venom shot at me; salt in an open wound.

“You have no idea what happened when I was in hell. But that is the farthest thing from the truth, Winchester, and you know it.”

He scoffed, a dark smirk on his face. “Yeah, real likely, princess.”

He gave me one more look before slamming the door behind him, leaving me to slump to the ground and curl up on the cool floor, because at this point, I was at a loss for words, completely and utterly drained.

***

The next three days were spent shrouded in the darkness of my room. It was one of the few with a bathroom, so there was no reason to risk bumping into Dean. He hadn’t tried to come and apologize the next day, nor did he try to talk to me at all. It was radio silent.

Sleep had tried to take me, but there were things I would do to keep it from doing so. I’d splash water on my face, pace back and forth. I’d do anything if it meant I didn’t have to relive hell.

I barely registered the bunker’s door loudly creaking as it opened and closed after a few days, two sets of footsteps echoing down the stairs, my sister’s cheerful voice ringing in my ears.

The mere sound caused tears to spring to my eyes.

When had things become so messy? Why couldn’t I have just left it? I could’ve left the bunker, like I originally wanted to. I could’ve walked the other way when I got topside, ignoring the past completely. Or I could have just stayed dead.

Or I could die now.

I would be lying if it wasn’t on my mind a lot. With the constant flashbacks and pain from hell and the emotional stress from within the bunker, the weight on my shoulders was too much to handle. It was difficult, and the fact I didn’t have anyone to talk to made it all the more difficult.

“You said what?!” A screech could be heard from down the hall. I jumped, sitting up and turning to face my door. I heard murmurs echo and travel to my room, loud stomps sounding until a fist pounded at my door. “Y/N! Open this door or so help me, I will knock it down.”

I swallowed, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to talk right now, Jane.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” She said through the door. I head her hush someone, before she jiggled the door knob. “Y/N, open the door.”

“I really don’t want to,” I said. “I’m tired.”

“You haven’t slept for almost a week, Y/N. Don’t deny it, either. Just open the door. I need to talk to you,” Jane told me. I sighed, licking my lips and shaking my head.

“Jane… please. I can’t do this right now,” I said. “Just… leave, okay? We’ll talk later. I can’t… I can’t right now.”

I heard her grumble, a thud sounding as she must have kicked the door. “Dammit, Y/N… fine.”

“I told you,” Dean said. I got up from my bed, walking towards the door to listen. “She hasn’t left her room in three days.”

“Did you at least check on her and make sure she wasn’t dead?” Jane hissed.

Dean was silent, and I heard her scoff. “Room. Now. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

I heard him clear his throat, and their footsteps retreated down the hall, a door slamming a few minutes after. I rested my forehead against the wood, taking another deep breath to try and calm my nerves. Dean must have told her what had happened, and I wasn’t ready for a yelling match with my sister. I knew she would be pissed at me, and I can’t imagine what Dean must have told her.

I unlocked the door, opening it and stepping out into the hall quietly.

“Jesus, I thought I’d need to take the door off.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at Sam’s voice, his shadow falling over me. He rested a hand on my shoulder and looked me over.

“You look terrible.”

“Wow, Sam. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” I deadpanned, looking up at him. He visibly winced at the sight of my dark circles and hollowed cheekbones.

“Jesus- Y/N, you’re killing yourself,” Sam said, brows furrowed in worry. “You need sleep. And food- something.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head, ignoring the dizziness that came with it. “I just need some water.”

“And calories and sleep,” Sam said. “I’m serious. I’m not going to sit idly by and watch you kill yourself.”

I heard a yell down the hall, and I shared a glance with Sam before taking off towards the sound of it, him hot on my heels.

“Have they been going at it since you guys got home?” I asked, stopping at room 11. Sam nodded.

“Pretty much. Dean told her what happened the other night and she flipped. She was freaking out about it, and marched to your room. She’s pretty pissed.”

“Great,” I said. “That’s all I need.”

“Huh?” Sam tilted his head. “What do you… Oh. Oh, no, Y/N… she’s not mad at you.”

“What? Why not?” I asked.

“Dean told her what happened. He told her he kissed you and told her what he said to you. He was feeling pretty guilty about the whole thing. I don’t think he anticipated this reaction from her. She’s pretty protective of you now, you know,” Sam said.

I shrugged. “She never was before. I think she just feels bad.”

“She’s your sister, Y/N. She’ll take care of you before him. She’ll put you first.”

“Heh, sure. Tell that to Jane seven years ago.”

Sam sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure what to say to that, because he had witnessed it first hand and knew I was right.

The door swung open, startling the two of us. Jane’s eyes locked on mine, and she rushed forward, throwing her arms around my neck.

“Dammit, Y/N. Look at you,” she muttered. She pulled back, looking at me. “Come on.”

“Where?” I asked, eyes flickering to Dean for a moment. He was looking anywhere but at me, and I bit my lip.

“I don’t know, somewhere where you can shower and then eat,” she said.

“Jane-”

“No, Y/N! I’m done watching you kill yourself,” she said harshly. “Now, let’s go.”

She took my hand, dragging me down the hall and to my room, leading me past my bed and into the bathroom. She pointed to the toilet seat.

“Sit.”

I obeyed, watching carefully as she started the bath. The silence scared me. She wasn’t letting on if she was angry at me, but the sour look on her face let me know that her mood wasn’t very pleasant. I waited for her to scold me, or to say anything, but she kept her mouth in a tight line, the running of the water the only sound in the room.

“Alright, come on,” she said, motioning to the tub. “In ‘ya get.”

I eyed her warily before undressing slowly, my limbs feeling like led after not being mobile for the last few days. I wasn’t entirely comfortable being naked in front of her. I wouldn’t have cared before, but I knew my bones were sticking out from under my skin and I knew how sickly I looked.

I lowered myself into the water slowly, allowing the warmth to seep into my skin. Jane took a wash cloth and gently began to clean my back, and I kept my eyes away from hers, not wanting to see her reaction.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” she murmured, dipping the cloth into the water. She brought it back up, swiping it over my shoulders.

“You didn’t,” I said truthfully. “I was just worried you were angry at me.”

Her hand faltered for a moment, and she hesitated. “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing you could do that would make me angry at you… except let yourself go like this.”

I closed my eyes. “Jane, please.”

“No. I lost you once, I won’t lose you again,” she said. She rinsed my back, grabbing the shampoo. “I can’t imagine what you went through, and I know things with Dean are difficult. But you’ve got to try. For me. I’m begging you.”

I didn’t respond as she carefully washed my hair. I was silent for the rest of the time. After my bath, she brushed out my hair and moisturized my face, and then flossed and brushed my teeth for me. She babied me, but I knew that I didn’t have the strength to get up and do it all on my own.

She allowed me to go back to my room if I ate something. I reluctantly agreed, my appetite still nonexistent, but choked down a sandwich for her sake. I knew she was trying, and I appreciated it. I just didn’t want it, and I did my best to swallow back the urge to throw it up.

“Sleep,” she said.

“I can’t,” I told her. “Really, I can’t.”

“Why not?” She asked. “Talk to me.”

I shook my head, and she sighed deeply. “I can’t help you unless you talk.”

I stayed silent, and turned away from her, bringing the covers up to my chin. I heard her mumble something under her breath, and her hand gently laid itself on my leg.

“I’ll come check on you later, okay?” She said. I didn’t respond, simply stared at the wall across from me. I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to eat. And I didn’t want to leave my bed.

I didn’t see the point in existing anymore.

***

“You exist purely for my pleasure.”

Fingertips ran down my face, smearing blood across the hollowed cheeks and over cracked lips. My eyes were glazed over, focused on nothing as I stared blankly at the wall.

The fifth hundredth year was approaching. I had given up hope on the Winchesters and Jane around the third century. I knew that the extent of their rescuing ways only reached so far.

Amel was persistent, not once letting me rest for a day. He would always come around, some sort of new torture thrown my way, if that was even possible. There were a few tactics he liked to recycle, but he didn’t want to “get bored.”

“I know you know that they aren’t coming for you. Surely you’ve given up on them?” Amel said, palm cupping my cheek. I ignored him, as I always did, and kept my eyes trained forward. His other hand ran down my torso, stopping at my pelvic bone, and I bit my tongue in disgust. “I did. I truly thought they would come for you at some point. But alas, they have disappointed me.”

He sighed, letting go of me, not missing the slight slump in relief I had. He turned away from me, heeled boots clacking along the cracked stone floors. His onyx painted nails scraped along the handles of the knives atop of the metal cart, and he let out a whine.

“What must we do today, pet? It seems we’ve used just about everything here at least twice,” he said, mostly to himself. He glanced over at me, leaning against the cart. “Hm?”

A knock rang through the room, and Amel grumbled to himself. Without breaking his gaze from my body, he motioned with his wrist, and the door creaked open. Astrid, whom I had gotten quite familiar with over the last century, sauntered in, her platinum hair tied up in an intricate braid.

“Crowley wants to speak with you,” she said. Amel groaned, picking up a small, curved knife. He twirled it between his fingers.

“Must I go? I’m busy,” he said, pouting. He was immature for a demon of such high ranks, and his black lined eyes and painted nails made him look like a teenage rebel, his leather pants and boots not helping his case much. He looked more like a pirate than a demon.

“He said it’s urgent,” Astrid said. Her eyes flickered to me briefly.

Amel sighed. “Fine.”

Before I could react, he had shot his wrist out, the small knife being shot through the air like a bullet. It lodged itself inside my windpipe, and I cried out, not much sound coming out. Blood soon filled my airways, and I began to choke and sputter. Astrid’s eyes widened, and a smirk crossed Amel’s face.

“She’ll be fine once I get back,” Amel said, waving his hand at me. My lungs burned for oxygen as they began to fill with blood, and black spots began to dot my vision as panic bubbled in my chest. “In case you’ve forgotten, she’s already dead.”

And with that, he left me alone, blood beginning to foam at my mouth as I desperately tried to suck air into my lungs.

***

Weeks flew by faster than expected, and with time, I grew weaker. I began to sleep a bit more, only a couple hours a night, and even then I would be awakened by fits of nightmares. It seemed as though I couldn’t catch a break, and I found it difficult to function by midday.

My relationship with Jane was still strained, but it finally began to repair itself around the third week. She eventually stopped helping me, and I didn’t mind. The old me would have, but not anymore. I was actually grateful. At this point, I was merely surviving, but if it turned out that I would stop doing so, I don’t think I’d mind.

I barely spoke two words to Dean within the four weeks of our last encounter. He hadn’t made any moves towards me and I hadn’t made any moves towards him. It was his turn to move a pawn, and I was simply staring at the clock.

I slowly but surely began to feel a little more numb, and whereas I usually wouldn’t like that, I welcomed it. This way, I wouldn’t have to feel the fear and pain I felt when I had a flashback. Instead, it was simply a dull ache.

Hunts were far and in between. I typically hunted on my own, taking the larger hunts out of carelessness, but also out of spite. It gave me more things to kill and get my anger out on. Jane didn’t like it, but she didn’t do anything to stop it, either. I slowly began fading away before their eyes, and they had given up on me.

Old me would’ve been pissed. But now, I was thankful.

I was in bed, curled up under the blankets. An uneaten sandwich and a bowl of fruit sat on my nightstand. My eyes began to flutter, when suddenly there was a knock on my door.

“Y/N?” Dean called. He sounded defeated; hesitant. I swallowed thickly, sitting up.

“Come in,” I said. The door opened slowly, Dean stepping in before closing it softly behind him. He looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine, silence sitting heavily in the room. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied simply. He motioned for the bed, and I shrugged, letting him perch on the edge of the mattress. He looked down at his hands. “I wanted to… I needed to come and apologize.” He swallowed thickly, scratching his neck. “I know it’s been a while since everything and I… I guess I just couldn’t find the right words to say. But now, I don’t think there ever will be the ‘right words’ that I should say to you.”

He finally looked up at me, face scrunched up in a way that made him seem younger, more like a scared boy than a fearless hunter.

“I am so sorry. I know that can’t possibly take away what I said to you. Don’t be mad at her, but Jane told me what she suspected had happened to you in hell, and what you told her. And when I got angry, I said things I didn’t mean.”

“Why did you get angry?” I asked. “Why did you kiss me when you’re with Jane?”

He took a deep breath, wringing his hands in his lap. He bit his lip. “Because… because I still love you.”

I gasped slightly, squinting my eyes at him. “What?”

“Jane and I talked about a week ago and we made the mutual decision to end things,” Dean said, looking away for a moment. I brought my knees up to my chest, eyes widening. “I never stopped loving you. Ever. And you being back I… I can’t help it. I can’t. And knowing I hurt you and pushing you away has broken me.”

“Why did you make me think you hated me?” I asked bitterly. “You don’t know the half of what happened in hell and thinking that you hated me just added to all the shit I was dealing with.”

He swallowed thickly, eyes not leaving his hands. “I know that no matter how many times I apologize, it can never make up for what I said… what I did. I can’t imagine what you went through. I know what hell is like, truly like, but I have an inkling that it was nowhere near your experience.”

“No. I don’t think so,” I whispered. He gave a small nod.

“I’m not asking for you to forgive me, because I know what I said and did isn’t something easy to forgive. And I don’t know if I should ask for a second chance, I sure as hell don’t deserve on, especially after being with Jane but… if you’d have me…” He trailed off, and I bit my lip.

A tear slipped down his cheek, and I tentatively reached forward to grasp his hand. Mine was even smaller now, and his fingers curled around my slender ones. “Hey.” His eyes bore into mine, waiting for the words to be spoken. “I love you, Dean Winchester. Always have.”

He smiled at me, hand raising to cup my cheek. “Always will.”

And this time when he kissed me, I didn’t feel guilt, nor pain. It was different, as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

And in a way, it had.

The conversation with Jane wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be. She explained to me, privately, that she knew she never loved him. She cared for him, but was never able to feel true love for Dean like I had. She was happy for me, truly happy.

I moved back into Dean’s room after about a week. We moved a little slower, but I was finally able to get some sleep when I was with him. I explained to him why I was afraid to fall asleep, and he simply held my face in his hands and promised me that nothing would ever happen to me when I was with him.

He would chase away the nightmares, softly rocking me back to sleep or simply hugging me tightly to his chest. It would make me feel better, being tightly held like that. It grounded me, and reminded me that I was no longer alone.

I also slowly began to eat again. My appetite hadn’t truly returned, but Dean coaxed me into eating again. But my self loathing had begun to disperse slightly, and slowly but surely weight began to return to my bones. I had began to look sickly, and I scared myself when I looked in the mirror, the thin woman looking back at me with the tired eyes and tight lips alien. But I was beginning to look like myself again.

Things were finally looking up. I was with the love of my life, my relationship with my sister was as strong as ever, and I finally began to feel like myself again.

***

We were back in that field, the grass green and sun warm as it heated the Earth beneath us and kissed our skin. My head laid on Dean’s chest, fingers drawing slow patterns over his shirt, his hand in my hair, gently brushing through the strands.

“I missed this,” I whispered, watching a honey bee dance from flower to flower. Dean hummed and took a deep breath.

“Me too, sweetheart. You have no idea,” he said softly. I lifted my head, eyes meeting the jade I loved so much before pressing my lips softly to his. His hand twisted itself gently in my hair, keeping my head close to his as he gently nipped my bottom lip, soothing the slight sting with his tongue before kissing me again sweetly, ever so softly caressing my lips with his own.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He asked, eyes hazy. I smiled lazily at him, shaking my head playfully. He chuckled, hugging me tightly to his chest. “Too much.”

“Why?” I asked.

He smirked. “Because we’re soulmates.”

I breathed a laugh, closing my eyes for a moment, remembering a time long ago where I said those exact words to him in this very field. That memory wasn’t as happy as this one would be. I knew that now, we’d grow to make new memories in our field, and in the bunker. Ones that weren’t full of heartbreak and sadness, desperation and worry. But hope for a new future, and anticipation for those memories to come.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I love you Y/N Y/L/N. Always have.”

I smiled widely at him, pressing my lips against his again, a butterfly touch that sent shivers down my spine. “Always will.”

In that moment, I realized my life had finally put itself back together. That no matter what had happened in the past, things were finally how they should be. Sure, I still had nightmares, and Dean would still hold me as I cried. Jane and I still argued, but we didn’t take each other for granted, and would soon realize that the argument was irrelevant, and quickly forgot about it.

And I still had that fear in the back of my mind of going to sleep, knowing that there was a good chance I would see Amel dancing his wicked dance behind my closed eyelids, and that I’d be warped into another round of torture. But I knew Dean was there, and he would chase away each and every nightmare of mine with ease. Finally, I found myself settling back into my old place, into a new life that had stronger formations and walls built around me and the people I loved.

I finally felt like I was home.

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[lynyrdwrites]

Someone You Loved

So, thanks to a discussion with @ofthedirewolves on Twitter... I decided to write fic inspired by “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi (but with an ultimately happy ending).  Also tagging @kickassfu and @childoftimeandmagic as fellow The Magicians fans.

You can also find it on AO3.

Give a cheer for the magical power of Love!

---

“I’m not going to pretend to understand what you’re going through.  But the way you’re relating to that couch is not unknown to me.”

             Another day – maybe in a hundred years, when everything hurt less – the words might have made Eliot smile.  He would have appreciated the callback, would have appreciated the way that Julia perched on the edge of the couch at his feet and looked at him, waiting for him to say something.

             But it wasn’t that day, and Eliot just curled onto his side, holding his body protectively around the rye he had poured.   He didn’t even particularly like the stuff – it reminded him too much of his father and everything he hated about himself – but it had been available and low effort.  Those descriptions fit his current requirements for survival.  

             “I don’t want company,” he said shortly, when it became clear that ignoring Julia wasn’t going to magically make her go away.

             “I know,” she said after a pause.  “But you probably shouldn’t be alone.”

             Think I’ll kill myself? Was his scathing thought, and it made him feel sick. Because there was some part of him that wondered if that wouldn’t be a little easier.

             If he were dead, he wouldn’t look at his hands, and imagine them soaked with the blood of so many people that didn’t deserve to be dead.

             If he were dead, he wouldn’t look at his friends and see the way they didn’t look back, not immediately.  Or the way, when they did look back, that they recoiled, just a bit, before they remembered that he wasn’t The Monster anymore.  

             If he were dead, he could be with Q.  

             That last thought was always the one that made him feel sickest. Mostly because he wanted it so bad, and he knew that Quentin would hate it.

             Even when Q couldn’t fight for himself, he always fought for the people he loved.  Eliot was one of those people.  For a few brief, glorious minutes… he’d had the opportunity to be at the top of that list.

             For fifty years he had been at the top of the list. Eliot and their son.

             His hands shook as he tried to drink more of the rye, and he grimaced when it spilled over his hands and onto the couch, leaving him and the material smelling like cheap booze.  He was ready to just throw the glass to the floor and curl into himself when a hand appeared in his line of sight.

             Without a word, he let Julia take the alcohol, set it onto the coffee table, and then curled his legs up, hugged them to his chest and let a sob tear out.

             He was so sick of crying.  He was so sick of thinking he was in love, and then losing it.

             He was so sick of feeling.

             Julia’s hand was warm over his, and he didn’t even quite realize what he was doing, before his fingers were clutching hers, holding onto the warmth of her like a lifeline.  He knew that the others mourned for Quentin, too… but Bambi, she had her focus on Fillory, and any grief she might feel was kept locked beneath that hard, glossy armor.  Alice would probably understand him, of course, but Alice came with a cocktail of guilt and jealousy that he just couldn’t quite handle, not on top of everything else.

             Not when part of him wanted to scream at her that maybe she had gotten Q’s last few days, but Eliot had gotten an entire life with him, and how could her grief every compare?  Which wasn’t fair, but emotions so rarely were.

             But Julia… Julia understood this loss, without the jealousy, and clutching to her almost felt like clutching onto a piece Quentin himself.

             “When do we get a break,” he asked, when his sobs slowed, and he felt like maybe he’d be able to breathe again.  Maybe not clearly – maybe he’d never be able to do that again; maybe that was part of what grief was.  Learning how to breathe when every breath hurt, and living with it anyway. “It’s been one thing after another. The Beast, losing ourselves, Fillory, The Monster… when do we get a break?”

             Julia didn’t say anything, but Eliot suddenly found himself enveloped in warmth as she wrapped her arms around him.  Her body shook, and he could feel wet warmth at the collar of his shirt, where her tears were falling.  He froze for a minute, but then sat up, gently pushing her as he did so, until he could hug her, and let her cry into his shoulder. It was a bit awkward – he and Julia didn’t have this kind of relationship, after all – but at the same time, when he buried his face in her hair and let the tears fall again, it felt somehow right.

             Julia might not have had fifty years in a different reality with Q… but she’d had close to a decade, which was closer than anyone else came.

             “I don’t know that we ever get a break,” she said at last, when the tears slowed, and they pulled apart, putting space between them, because they didn’t have that kind of relationship, and the awkward had begun to feel stronger than the… not awkward.  “Maybe we just keep on living and suffering until finally it catches up with us and we get to join Q wherever he went.”

             “That’s incredibly depressing.”

             Julia’s answering smile was weak and sad, and her shoulders looked as though they were weighed down.  

             “I can do magic again,” she said, and didn’t look nearly as happy at that as Eliot would expect. More than anyone Eliot knew, Julia loved magic.  “And it’s all because magic is suffering.  My best friend had to die so I could do a card trick.” She hugged her arms around her middle and looked away.  “Sorry.  I came here to help you.  This isn’t helpful.”

             “It’s not… unhelpful,” Eliot offered after a moment. “We both lost him. We both…”

             Eliot trailed off, unable to say the words.  If this had happened before – before they’d had a life together, before he’d made the stupidest, most self-destructive choice of his life – he would have been able to finish it.  He would have been able to say that he loved Quentin Coldwater, without the words catching and tearing at his throat, because before that… they would have been true, but it also would have been less.

             Less love. Less hurt. Less everything.  And he would have been sad, but he wouldn’t be lifting a glass of cheap rye to his mouth and pouring it down his throat like he was dying of thirst, even as he hated the taste and all the memories it dredged up.

             “Want one?” he asked Julia, reaching for the bottle and a refill.  “I don’t have another glass, but you can use this one and I’ll just take right from the source.”

             She hesitated, and Eliot could tell that she was out of her depth with him. It was only fair – he’d been out of his depth with her, too.  Had offered an adventure, because he didn’t know what else to do.  They’d been so young, back then.  Now they were both adventured out, and there was nothing left to offer to distract him, nothing that he would accept anyway.

             “Sure,” she said instead.  

             Eliot still wanted to be alone.  But for the first time since Quentin had died, he found himself appreciating someone else, even if she was sitting the entire length of the couch away from him, probably wishing she was alone, too.

             For a little while, they would be alone together.

---

             The thing about post-Quentin… is that there is no such thing.

             Not for Eliot, not really.  Time is supposed to heal all wounds, but his just stay gaping open, and no amount of helping Margo in Fillory, or trying to reclaim his lost glory from Todd is able to make them close.  

             He tried to hide them with that cheap rye, but it didn’t take that long to remember why the smell of the stuff made him sick, and it wasn’t just the memories that came with it.

             The first time he saw Alice after everything was in the Brakebills library.  Eliot wasn’t even sure why he was there – if he had homework, he couldn’t remember it, and Dean Fogg was being surprisingly forgiving with them all – but he found Alice hidden away at a quiet table, a letter opened in front of her.  

             “Don’t tell me they’re starting to handout warnings,” he said, after he spent about five minutes just watching her, and debating whether or not he should just walk away.  He hadn’t had much time to talk to Alice, after that drunken night with Q when they had all hurt her.  He had been too busy with Fillory, and she had been a Niffin, and then he had just been angry at her.  

             Probably unfairly angry, looking back.  He hadn’t felt that angry with Julia.  Maybe even then there had been some jealousy.  He would like to believe he was above such things… but then again, he could be such a petty bitch, and why pretend otherwise?

             “Eliot,” Alice said, and it was only when she straightened her shoulders and ran her hands over her hair, that he realized that she had been slumped in her seat.  Her eyes were red-rimmed, not as if she had been crying, but as though she could start at any time.  Eliot knew that feeling well.  He’d hit it with the red glaze of too much alcohol at first, but now his own eyes were like that too.

             Like he stood on the precipice of a breakdown that could arrive at any moment.

             “If they are,” he continued conversationally, “them I’m probably in trouble.  I don’t do much classwork these days.  They may not know how to find me.”

             “No.  They’re… being kind about that.  It’s a job offer.  From the library.”

             The Library.  Just the words made Eliot want to rage.  He wondered if maybe The Monster had left something behind in him – something that made the thought of wrapping his hands around a Librarian’s throat and just squeezing until nothing was left so satisfying.  It frightened Eliot, that he could think like that.  Just like the nightmares – the memories – he had, of what The Monster had done to stranger and friend alike frightened him.  

             His own hands frightened him.

             “You’re going to turn it down,” Eliot said immediately, because Alice hated the library more than any of them.  He’d heard bits and pieces, of the way they’d kept her locked up.  How she’d had to get assistance from Plover of all people, to get away.  And how she must have hated that, because of them all, she had been the one most horrified by that house that immortalized Plover’s actions.  

             Yet Alice didn’t immediately agree with him, instead she looked at the letter.  

             “You’re considering it.” Eliot leaned back in his chair and stared Alice, not quite believing what was happening.  “After everything… they’re the reason Quentin is dead!”

             “Zelda is part of the reason you’re here and The Monster isn’t!” Alice argued, her eyes flashing as she finally met his gaze.  “Everett is the reason that Quentin is dead. And yes, the Library fell for everything he said… but that’s why I’m considering it, Eliot!  Standing out here, complaining about the things they do – that’s not going to change anything.  I have to at least consider this.  Consider making something… good come out of it.  Out of losing Q.”

             “Nothing good is ever going to come out of it, Alice.”

             “I can’t sit here and be sad forever.  He wouldn’t have wanted it.  And I don’t want to do it.”

             It was a good line to storm away on; it would have made for a very dramatic exit.  But Alice stayed in her seat, her fingers folding the letter over and over again.  

             “Are you waiting for my blessing?” he asked at last, bitterness coating his tongue.  He hated Alice in that moment, and even more he hated himself, because he didn’t know if he was so angry because he truly thought she was making the wrong choice, or because the choice gave him an easy excuse to hate her.

             “Yes,” Alice breathed out, and Eliot went completely still.  He… hadn’t expected that to be her answer.  “I don’t know everything that went on with you and Q, El.  I get the feeling there’s more to it than what I know, and I won’t ask you about it.  I… I honestly don’t want to know.  I’m not sure I could handle knowing.  But you’re the only one who loved him like I did, and I need someone to tell me he wouldn’t hate me for this.”

             He could refuse to give her that absolution.  It was on the tip of his tongue to do so.  After all, while Eliot had spent that last of Q’s days locked inside of his own body, Alice had been there… had been able to touch him, to tell him how she felt.  She had gotten all the moments that Eliot didn’t, and in this one moment, he could make her feel just as terrible as he did.  

             God, it was tempting.

             “He wouldn’t hate you,” he said instead, because maybe Eliot could be a petty bitch… but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her like that.  Not when it would do such a disservice to who Quentin was.  “I… I don’t think Quentin could ever hate you, Alice.  Not even when he wanted to.  And you know him – he loved to have a mission.  He’d probably understand needing a purpose better than anyone.”

             Alice let out a sob, and Eliot reached out, grasped her hand with his.  He didn’t know how long he sat there, letting her squeeze his fingers as the tears ran down her cheeks.  

             The next day, Alice Quinn took charge of the Library.

---

             “I’m contemplating taking up heroin.”

             “I wouldn’t recommend it.  It sucks.  The addiction sucks.  The needles really suck.  You should probably stick with alcohol.”

             Eliot almost laughed at that.  He wasn’t sure how he had wound up spending time with Kady, except that she had lost Penny, and didn’t seem to care if he never spoke to her at all, and he found something comforting about the apartment she had stolen from Marina.  

             There were memories here, from The Monster… but they didn’t seem quite as frightening.  Maybe because most of them involved Q, and Eliot was so desperate to see him again that he would even cling to nightmares, as long as they meant he didn’t forget Quentin’s face.

             “Are you actually reading a book?” Kady asked, setting a drink down next to Eliot, before she plopped onto a chair across the room from him.  “Did I know you could do that?”

             “I’m a man of man of surprises,” Eliot replied, glancing at the drink and seeing that it was something blue poured into a martini glass.  He let out a huff of amusement and glanced at Kady, who was looking pretty much anywhere but at him.  “You… you tried to get Penny back for a while.  Didn’t you?”

             “Penny was supposed to get back himself. Instead he went to work for the Library. Terrible way to not break up with someone.” Kady surveyed him over her own glass, and he was pretty sure it was the same cheap rye he had gorged himself on in the immediate aftermath of… everything. “Why?”

             “I just… enjoy philosophical conversations, I guess.”

             “Bull shit.  You’re looking for a way to bring Q back.”

             He expected her to follow it up with some comment about it being impossible.  Maybe something about needing to let go and move on, because it’s what Q would have wanted.

             Well… if that’s what Quentin wanted, then he should have stuck around long enough to Eliot that himself.  

             “Alice knows more about it, but you’ll have to look into that Seam place if you want to try and do anything.”

             “Not going to tell me I’m wrong to do this?”

             Kady snorted into her rye, throwing the rest of it back.  

             “Everything sucks.  We’ve lost people we love too many times.  Alice is working for the freaking library.  Margo is… I dunno, a freedom fighter or something.  I’m trying to pull the Hedges back together. Sometimes a purpose is the only thing that keeps us from falling apart.  If you want your purpose to be bringing Q back… well, he died so that Everett wouldn’t become a God.  I’m cool with saying screw you to the afterlife if you can.”

             Considering that it had stolen Penny from her, Eliot wasn’t entirely surprised that Kady had that mind set.  

             “The Hedges have some interesting books,” she added, setting her empty glass aside.  “I’ll see if there’s anything that can help you.”

             She turned on the TV after that – some mindless cooking show – and they didn’t say anything else.  But inside Eliot, the first stirrings of hope began.  

             Maybe… maybe this didn’t have to be the end.

---

             “Letting him have free reign isn’t-”

             “This section here is everything we have on the Underworld. And death in general.  It’s kind of grim, but also sort of interesting.  There are things here I didn’t even know about as a Niffin.”

             Eliot had to bite back a smirk, at the expression on Zelda’s face as Alice completely disregarded her worries over allowing him to look for anything he needed in the library.

             “Death isn’t something that can just be overcome!” Zelda said with a sigh in her voice.  “Quentin’s book has been completed.”

             “Lots of books get finished without their story being over,” Alice replied with a sharp look over her shoulder.  “That’s what sequels are for.”

             Zelda’s expression tightened, but she finally just shook her head and left.  Eliot waited until the sounds of her heels disappeared before finally grinning at Alice.

             “This librarian things suits you,” he stated. “It shouldn’t surprise me. You always had the fashion sense for the role.”

             “Are you really going to insult my style when I can have you kicked out at any time?” Alice replied, but there was no heat in the question.  Instead, her expression turned a little sad.  “Eliot, I really hope you can actually figure something out… but Zelda isn’t wrong. Death isn’t just another quest we can beat.  The chances of there being something here…”

             “He never gave up on us, Alice.  Either of us.  Let me at least try to not give up on him.”

             His days fell into a schedule.  He went to class at Brakebills – and thanks to Julia he actually passed his classes.  He spent hours in the Library, reading about death and how there wasn’t a God damn thing he could do to beat it.

             Sometimes, he would take a break.  To help Margo in Fillory, or to lend Kady and her Hedgewitches a hand.  Once, he even went to the movies with Julia and Penny-23, who hadn’t seemed entirely impressed, but somehow it had been nice anyway.

             It made Eliot realize he kind of missed their own Penny.  It had been somewhat of a surprise realization.

             He considered giving up, because he was getting nowhere and Eliot wasn’t made for research.  This was an Alice or a Julia thing, and he was probably doing it all wrong.

             And then he found it.  A footnote to a footnote that led to a paragraph, and he managed to convince Penny-23 to take him into the Mirror World, to where the entrance to the Seam had once existed.

             It was stupid.

             It was fairy tale bull shit.

             But so was Fillory.  So were castles and monsters and beasts… and hell, magic was a fairy tale for most.

             The spell was deceptively simple, but the magic wasn’t the hard part.  Not at all.

             “Q,” Eliot breathed, because there he was. His hair was shorter than what it had been, before The Monster.  Eliot had those memories of it like that, but this was the first time he got to see it himself, outside a brief glimpse after he had been stabbed by axes.  

             “Eliot,” Quentin looked around, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.  “I’m… what are you doing here?  What am I doing here?”

             “I… magic,” Eliot said at last, and wasn’t their world so odd, that he could say that with utter sincerity, and have it be a legitimate explanation.  “There are more spells available to us these days.  Alice has a more traditional view on how libraries should be run – knowledge for everyone, instead of just a select few.”

             “Alice is a Librarian.  Our Alice?”

             Did he know the way that Eliot’s heart sung, that he called her our Alice – a reference to their friendship – rather than my Alice?  Eliot doubted it.  He doubted that Quentin even realized he had done it.  

             “It’s a long story.  She’d love to tell it to you.”

             Quentin froze at that, and Eliot wished he could reach out and touch him.  But that wasn’t an option.  If he tried, his hand would simply go through Quentin.  He wasn’t there, not entirely. Not yet.  Because that was what made this spell hard.  

             It could only be successful if the spirit summoned really, truly wanted to come home again.

             It could only work if the caster were really, truly that home.

             He should have gotten Alice to do this.  Alice… or Julia.  Someone who wasn’t the jerk that turned him down after a lifetime together.  A lifetime of memories and love and a son together.  They’d had grandchildren, and somehow Eliot had still managed to ruin it.

             “I’m dead, El,” Quentin said softly.  “I won’t be hearing any stories… I saw the fire. I’m sorry that… I’m sorry.”

             Eliot stared at him.

             “It wasn’t your fault,” he managed to choke out at last.  “You saved the world… but we really miss you, Q.”

             “I really miss you, too,” Quentin replied.  “But… it’s not so bad.  My dad is here.  I have more of a relationship with him these days than I ever did in life, which is kind of weird.  Penny is a lot easier to get along with dead. He’s kind of bossy, and busy… but we make time. It’s… nice.  Peaceful.”

             Did he know that he was breaking Eliot’s heart with every word he said?  Every mention of the afterlife being a nice place drove a dagger right into the center of Eliot’s being, destroying him a little bit more.

             “El?” Quentin asked after a moment, as if realizing how quiet Eliot had gone.  “What’s wrong?”

             Let him go. Let him be with his dad.  Let him have peace.

             He would never find that in the living world, after all.  It was messy there.  It was messy and painful, and life was just a series of quests tied together by day drinking and a joint desire to survive for… why?

             Quentin looked happy.  The last time Eliot had seen Quentin look happy was…

             Fillory, and fifty years of memories.  A life well lived.

             Something beautiful.

             They had made something beautiful and fulfilling. And maybe Eliot had tried to ruin it… but he was tired of running scared.

             Know that when I’m braver, it’s ‘cause I learned it from you.

             He had said those words to the Quentin of his memories.  That kiss had been so very sweet, but empty.  Because Eliot couldn’t rewrite history.  He couldn’t undo the way he had hurt the man he loved.

             But now he could be braver.  He could keep his word.  Was he really going to fail Quentin again?

             “I lied to you,” he said at last, and Quentin stared at him in confusion.  “I lied to you, when I said we wouldn’t choose that life.  The one we had together.  I would.  I would choose it every single time.  I have done a lot of things I regret, but that lie… that lie is the worst of them all.”

             “Eliot,” Quentin whispered, closing his eyes, his expression pained.  “Why are you telling me this now?  I… I can’t come back.  And I swear if this is you trying to join me, I will never forgive you.”

             “You can come back.  You just need to want it.  More than you want to be dead.”

             Quentin’s eyes popped open, and Eliot felt his throat choke up.  He knew what he was asking now.  He was asking someone who had always kind of wanted to die… to want to live more.  

             He might be asking the impossible.

             “I… it hurts, El,” Quentin said at last.  “Every day, it hurts.  It doesn’t hurt there.”

             “I know, Q.  I know,” Eliot whispered, wishing so much that he could touch the other man. But that was part of this spell. There was no tether allowed to pull them in.  They had to take that step themself.

             And that meant Eliot had to be worth it… and when had he been worth anything in his life?

             Warm hands cupped his cheeks, and Eliot found himself gaping, because there was Quentin, right in front of him, touching him.

             Warm… and alive.

             “I thought when it happened, that maybe I had just found a way to give up,” Quentin said, pulling Eliot’s head down so their forehead’s touched.  “But I don’t want to give up, Eliot.  It might not hurt there… but no pain means there’s nothing else, either.  And it’s everything else that makes it worth it.  I’m not ready to not feel pain.  Not yet.”

             Eliot knew he was crying, but he didn’t care, and Quentin didn’t seem to care either, because he was crying too.  They were crying and hugging, and then they were kissing. And this kiss wasn’t empty. This kiss was full, and warm and kind of messy with hands tangling in hair, and their noses bumping a little awkwardly.  

             It was beautiful, in the messy way that only life could be beautiful.  

---

             It seems rather too easy, doesn’t it?

             That was the consensus.  But for once the consensus was wrong.  Because Eliot knew that touching him was the hardest damn decision that Quentin had ever made.

             Eliot couldn’t promise there wouldn’t be times that Q would regret it… but he could promise to make it all worth it in the end.

             And he did.

[ice-magician]

Journal of a Madman

Lawrence, Kansas, 1983

The flames burned hot on Dean's back. Even as a young kid he understood the gravity of the situation- Daddy was in trouble. 

John shoved Sam into young Dean's arms screaming, "Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, GO!" 

Dean grabbed Sam and ran downstairs, feeling the heat of the flames singe his hair. He bolted out the door, but his feet slipped on the dew-covered lawn. Sammy went tumbling out of Dean's arms, wailing and crying.  Worry for his baby brother spurred Dean to his feet.  He got to his feet, but froze.

Out of nowhere a figure appeared, standing between Dean and his brother. 

Though the man's back was turned Dean could feel a smile creep into his voice. "On second thought, you're too precious to leave behind. Aren't you, Sammy?" 

The figure turned to face Dean, making the young boy's blood run cold. His eyes were a sickening pale yellow. The evil churning within their depths was enough to make any stomach flip and grown men run away, but not Dean. Dean wasn't leaving Sam. 

The young boy heaved himself up with scraped palms, "You leave my brother alone!" he shouted. 

The yellow eyed being chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Dean's spine. 

"Oh," he sized Dean up, "why didn't I choose you instead? You've got spunk, kid." The man leaned over, gleaming yellow eyes staring into crystal green ones, "but I will take your brother, and you can't stop me."

The man swiveled around, scooped up crying Sam, and looked down upon the mortified brother. 

"Don't worry, kid," he said." I'll take nice care of your brother, better than your daddy ever could." The demon spat the distasteful word. 

He smiled down at Sam's tear-streaked face. "Yeah, we'll have lots of fun. Won't we, Sammy?" 

Dean lurched forward and pounded his tiny fists on the man's leg. 

He shouted at the top of his lungs, hoping beyond hope that his father could hear him. "LET MY BROTHER GO!!! LET MY BROTHER GO!!!" 

"Oh, quite a temper on you. You'll see lil Sammy again, someday." He grinned at the boy. "See ya later, Dean-o." 

The man snapped his fingers, and was gone. The only trace that he was ever there was the smell of sulfur, and a pair of boot prints fading quickly in the grass. 

Dean sobbed. His tiny form fell onto the dew-soaked grass. "BRING MY BROTHER BACK!!! BRING MY BROTHER BAAAAACCCKKK!!!" 

.

.

.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for so many reasons. I’m sorry I could never be the son you deserved. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the brother he needed. Most of all, I’m sorry that I didn’t know you. I fought, but not enough. I ran, but not fast enough. I resisted, but only when it was too late. I’m so sorry for who I became. You deserve to hear what led to this.

Madness was more of a side effect than the original disease. Madness that tears at the brain and tries to whisper the soul into the blissful dark.

For seven years I ran. For seven years I was going more and more insane. Slowly but surely. It got worse every day. I was plagued with nightmares in the darkness. I could never sleep. I hallucinated when I was awake, so consciousness was a living hell.

In the beginning, I constantly wondered if it was all worth it. The nightmares, the hallucinations, cacophony of resounding voices. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t die. I knew death was worse than living on the run.

There was no Heaven waiting for me. As I would take my last breath, I would spiral downwards. Their groping claws would pull my soul in every direction. Every demon across every plane of existence would have known I had met my end, and he would have come for me. Even in death, he would find a way to use what I was.

So, I never gave in. I somehow always stopped myself. Now, I know it was the Winchester in me.

I would run. I would run until I couldn’t run anymore. And when my time ran out? When I inevitably would see him again? I took comfort in knowing that my death hadn’t been from my own hand.

Living in my own hell was better than making others’ lives miserable. He had twisted my being into something, something indistinguishable. I had been used. I had been a weapon. I swore on my life that I would never crawl back to that, no matter how broken my sanity would become.

I was Sam. I was a boy with no name, no family, friends, no one. I had been raised by a demon who had taken everything, but I would not be a puppet any longer.

.

.

.

The white washed rooms stared back at me. White sheets, white table, everything was so sterile and clean. Unlike me. I felt as if I didn't belong in a place such as this.  

Yes, I belonged in an asylum, but my room's atmosphere of purity made my stomach ache with guilt. I wasn't pure, and I certainly was no hero. I was dark. I was a black, endless void of horror. I was the monster children fear lurking in the cold blackness. I was every lost and lingering shadow. Nowhere to go and nowhere to belong. I was everything he had molded me to be.

No family, friends or even a random cousin that no one really knows but they always show up at family reunions. No, I had none of those things.  The only constant in my life was this- solitude.  The icy chill of being alone for too long almost overwhelmed me sometimes. But that was okay, I'd convinced myself. I was away from people, and they were away from me. More importantly, I was away from him. Three asylums in four months, and I had no intention of letting him catch my trail. I wasn't going back. Not now, not ever.

My door opened, snapping me out of my trance.  It was the nurse, Collie, coming by with the med cart.  Collie was cute with her curly brown hair, and knowing green eyes. She was one of the few nurses that would actually have casual conversations with the patients; we were real people, not abnormalities set aside in a desolate facility.

She smiled at me and I managed a weak imitation of a grin back. I liked Collie, but I was never one for social interaction. Still, Collie persisted.

Collie brought over the cup with half a dozen pills inside, "Here you go," she passed the cup to me with some water to wash it down.

I always took them, just to humor the staff. I didn’t need medication. Doctor’s could do nothing to fix a broken soul.

After making sure the medicine was gone, she did a routine check of vitals. I found this excessive, but the institution insisted on making sure their patients were well taken care for.

Collie slid her stethoscope down her neck after checking my heartbeat, "So, Sam," she said, "how have you been feeling?"

I said nothing, knowing actions spoke louder than words. Nothing is more deafening than utter silence.

She bit her lip in concern, "May I?" Collie asked, gesturing to the spot on the bed beside me.

I nodded, "Sure."

Collie slid down to sit. A sad, concerned look criss crossed her face.  "Have you been keeping a journal like I asked?"

I gave a sad chuckle. “Yeah, not like there’s much to write about, though.”

"No improvement at all? Not even a lighter mood to the dreams?"

I sighed. "Still monsters... It's always the same, Collie, and I can't stop it... I don't think it will ever stop. I’m sorry. I know you care, and I appreciate that, but there’s nothing you can do to save me."  

I studied the linoleum floor, surveying its blocked pattern as I waited for Collie's optimistic response. She had always tried to make things better, to make things seem not half as bad as they were.  Unfortunately, it had never worked.

Just as Collie opened her mouth the speakers turned on, announcing it was nap time. Saved by the asylum intercom. She stood and piled her stethoscope atop the cart.  

She glanced back at me. "Sam, if you ever need anyone to talk to, about anything, I'm here. I hope you know that. Okay?"  

She sounded worried, as if my yes or no would make would break her entire world.  I tried a half smile again. "Yeah, sure, Collie."

Collie smiled, pivoted, and pushed her cart out the door, brunette hair flipping behind her. I was alone again with my thoughts.  

My eyes grew heavy. I didn't want to sleep, but exhaustion doesn't care what I think. Involuntarily, I laid back and slid into another nightmare.  

.

.

.

I ran hard, fast. I hadn't run that fast in a long time. I was in a forest. Tall oaks and spruces loomed above my head to form a canopy, blotting out the sun. It was hard to see anything. My breathing was heavy and I was sweating buckets. I had been running for so long that my brain couldn’t recall when exactly the chase had started.

The smell of blood stopped me dead in my tracks. I licked my lips and a salty, sickeningly familiar taste oozed down my throat. Not today. Not ever again. I'd been clean for too long to cave in now....

"Sam!"

A man's voice echoed across the dark woods. He sounded familiar somehow, but not from my nightmares. It wasn't the voice of my victims, my colleagues, or my tormentor.

This voice wasn't threatening.  There was genuine concern. My heart ached. Whoever this mystery man was I seemed to know him. No, not just know him, I missed him.

A figure jumped through the foliage of a bush in front of me. He was covered in sweat and blood, but I didn't focus on that. The figure before me, someone I had never met in my life, I knew. I knew him in the indescribable way your gut tells you the truth, whether or not you have experienced or seen it.

He stared back, eyes wide. He seemed surprised to find me, maybe even a little relieved.  

My heart ached again. I'd never seen this man in my life but I felt the compelling urge to bear hug him.  

His eyes grew misty. "Sammy." He almost whispered my name.

I gulped a deep breath of air and uttered a name I'd never said but felt all too familiar on my lips, "Dean?"

Dean, Dean Winchester. His name was Dean, and he smiled back as wide as a cavern. He acted as if he had found the greatest treasure in the world. He took a step towards me.  

Suddenly, the air whistled with the sound of an arrow being shot.  Dean gasped and clutched the projectile now lodged in his chest.  He staggered to the forest floor.

"Dean!" I screamed, lunging forward to catch his fall.  

He coughed up blood and spit onto the leafy ground.  

Dean smiled a sad, painful smile. "Too slow on my feet, huh?"

He hacked up more blood. I held his head and tried to keep him awake, but his eyes fluttered shut.

"Dean? No! Dean!"  

Sorrow choked my voice. I hugged his body closer, the wound still dripping blood. Suddenly, Dean went rigid. He pulled away and looked at me. My stomach did a somersault. No longer were Dean's eyes green with life. No, now they're an all too familiar yellow.

Wearing Dean’s face, Yellow Eyes smiled. "I'm coming, Sam. Don't you worry, we'll be a family again soon."

Everything went black as a demon's eyes.

.

.

.

I jumped in my bed, cold sweat soaked the mattress and clung to my shirt. I bent over to switch on the lamp on my side table, and winced with the effort. Urgently, I turned on the light. It's soft beam made the room glow a strange tint of yellow.

I looked at my hands- they were bleeding. My fingernails were jagged and bloody. I gingerly ripped a piece of cloth from my bed sheet.  Biting one end, I wrapped the four crescent- shaped cuts in my hand as best I could. The mattress' springs bounced pitifully under me as I repositioned for my injured hand. He was coming. I had to leave. I had to go... but where?

Sighing, I closed my eyes. It was too late (or too early?) to think about running for my life, or from my life. My mind slid into a state of semi-consciousness- not awake, but not asleep either.

.

.

.

The air was cool in the corridor. Everyone else was in the commons room, but I always enjoyed the view of the yard. Large windows looked out to the world beyond- the world of the sane free, the world of the sane… more or less.  I stared at the perfectly polished glass and stroked its smooth surface, my hurt hands shouting in protest. That morning I'd caved and asked the nearest nurse for help. Luckily, she was one that didn't care. She applied the antibacterial, wrapped it in gauze, and happily wiped me from her mind. I smiled. It's the small things.

I looked back outside. When people think “asylum” what probably springs to mind is straight jackets and concrete exterior. While some assumptions were true, the same could not be said for the building’s grounds. Patients weren’t allowed at the building’s entrance, but there was a beautiful backyard. Wooden benches hugged a concrete path lined with planted flowers. An old tree stood proud in the middle of the grounds, the walkway curving around it, and ending at the fence which cut patients off from the outside world.

Behind the fence laid a dense forest of ancient planted giants. I recalled my dream, and shivered. That man, Dean, I could still feel his blood on my hands. The horrors of the nightmare reemerged. A man, a friend? Looming trees, and darkness that consumed all noise. A well aimed arrow, and a crooked smile.

Through the night I had desperately tried to remember him. I drew his face on my notebook so I wouldn’t forget. Dean, whoever he was, was trying desperately to find me, and, for what felt like the first time, I wanted to be found.

I wanted more than help. I wanted more than just a life of sadly limping along lonely hallways, constantly glancing over my shoulder. For the first time in a long time, I wanted to live. I wanted it so badly. I needed it. I needed to know the man from my dream. I needed to know what he wanted.

My sad reflection glared at me from the window. I really was a sorry excuse for a man, wasn’t I? Frustration boiled inside me. A deep part of me, the part I tried so hard to contain, contemplated smashing the glass. This wasn't the only time I'd entertained the thought. The cursed vision swelled in my mind's eye- glass would litter the floor, alarms would buzz wildly overhead. My vision would go red. My heartbeat would pound in my ear. I would be able to feel the very blood rushing through the frantic bodies around me. I would bend down to scoop up the largest shard I could find and then... and then.

I took my hand off the slick surface, leaving behind a sweaty film. My breathing had become deep and frantic. I rubbed my eye so hard it hurt. When would the visions stop? The waking nightmares fueled the monster lurking beneath the surface. No, I was not that man anymore. I had escaped, and I’d be damned if he ever dragged me back.

The thought stopped my racing mind. I was damned, I had been my entire life. There was Heaven, sure, but not for me. Hell, well, a more or less welcome home party surely waited. Purgatory, but that was for monsters. If there was no life outside of the poison that set my destiny, then I just wanted to fade into oblivion. No eternal happiness or damnation, just, nothing. I was ok with nothing.

I turned to continue walking towards my cell, for that's what it was- a cell. Then a voice caught my attention.

"There is no rest for you, Sammy."

Ice-cold tendrils weaved their way in between my vertebrae and tightened with a vice grip. I knew that voice. I hated that voice. I tried to avoid it as often as I could. I hardly opened my mouth because of that voice.

My reflection spoke again, "You're a monster, Sam. For what you've done to people, for what you've done to anything you touch, you're going to burn."

I whipped my head around to face the monster. He had sickening pale skin and eyes sunk so far into his skull that he looked like a dead man. His lips were chapped and bleeding. Along his face, cuts oozed liquid as white as himself. My monster, myself.

He smiled again, with his jagged, shark-like teeth.

Rage boiled inside me. "I've already burned," I told him, "I've endured every form of punishment that I deserve."

He waggled a thin, blood soaked finger at me, making a “tisk-tisk” sound.

"Oh, Sammy, but you haven't. He will come. Soon. He will come. He will take you home."

I gulped so hard my Adam's Apple hurt. "No. I'll never go back. Not on my life."

He snickered. "What life? Your life was over the moment you were born..."

"Shut up," I whispered.

"... But the worst is fearing the unknown, right?" My reflection snickered and sang in a sick lullaby tone, "Poor little Sammy, sitting in a tree, waiting for Azazel to rescue me. Again I swing, again I play, 'til I'm thrown back in the dark, old cage."

"I SAID SHUT UP!!!!"

I hit the glass hard. Jagged lines spread across my monster's face. He continued to smile. He smiled until the entire window came crashing down. Blood and glass spilled over the once pristine floor. My labored breaths returned. What had I done? I had used its strength. A part of me had buckled.

Alarms screeched throughout the building. Overwhelming screams of insanity and fear cascaded over me. I clamped my hands over my ears to lessen the noise. It did nothing to silence the monster’s laughter that resonated in my skull.

Boots pounded against the white linoleum floor. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by guards. They cuffed me, and dragged me to my room. Through it all, I didn’t resist. My mind was reeling with what I had just done. I couldn’t remember the last time I had used its strength. Was I becoming weak? Had the arrival of hope shaved down the calloused resolve I had built up over the years? I had just wanted him to stop. To stop telling me everything I already knew, but hoped to avoid.

I wasn’t aware of my surroundings until I was strapped onto my bed. The workers buckled arm, and ankle restraints tightly. Sweat dripped down my forehead; my hair clung to my face. I couldn’t breath. The world was breaking around me.

Something sharp pierced my skin. Liquid sleep flowed in my veins. Within moments, everything started to relax. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t rest. I needed answers. I needed to find Dean…

A part of myself drifted into oblivion, but not without hearing demon's voice whisper in my ears. "You're going to burn, Sam." 

.

.

.

The backwoods road lay covered in fallen Autumn leaves. Fall. How could it be Fall already? Dean took a swig of beer and set it back in its holder. From the trunk came sounds of banging and scratching. Someone was getting restless.

"HEY!" Dean threw an empty beer can in the backseat, a weak attempt at getting the creature's attention.

"Shut your cake hole or I'll rip you a new one!"

It didn't help.

The monster continued to claw and screech in its makeshift prison.

Dean sighed. Why couldn't the badies just accept their fate and shut the hell up?

"Twenty more miles," he whispered to himself, "just twenty more miles."

Twenty Miles Later

"AHHHHHHHH!!!!" the demon howled in agony.

Holy water dripped down his face. The creature, going by the name of Sahar, struggled against his bonds. His screams echoed down the empty halls of the rotting office building. The chair rocked back and forth with the power of his quakes. Of course, raw strength would get him nowhere, and the Devil’s Trap at his feet nulled any supernatural power that could save his life.

"It's no use, Sahar." Dean said,. He crouched to look the demon in the eyes. Sahar’s long hair was caked with sweat and holy water. His black eyes boiled with rage as steam rose from his burned face.

"Look around you. You're not going anywhere."  Dean smirked.

Sahar spat out a laugh. "Maybe, but neither are you, Winchester. You're looking for your brother, I presume, but you won't find him. Whatever you do to me, it won't even touch what Yellow Eyes would if I say a word."

Dean spun the knife in his hands. The blade was a beautiful thing- forged with metal from the deepest pit of Hell. Dean had snagged it off a demon in Tennessee a few years back. Since then, it had been his go-to weapon with the black-eyes sons of bitches.

Moonlight reflected across Dean's features, but the rage in his eyes shone brighter. For a moment, the demon wondered if Dean actually could do worse than Yellow Eyes. A strong willed man with a vengeance was nearly impossible to stop, especially if he was a Winchester.

"Listen, Sahar," Dean casually sat across from the demon on a lone office chair. "I'm going to give you three chances. Chance one-" Dean counted them off on his fingers as he went, "you tell the truth and I'll give you a quick death. Chance two- lying equals demon blade plus holy water rain storm. And Chance three," Dean smiled, "well, I guess I'll just get creative."

Sahar spat through bloody teeth. "Maybe you should listen to your old man- give up, daddy's boy!"

Dean bolted from his chair. He ran at Sahar and gripped him by his dreadlocks. The demon gasped in surprise. He gulped for air as the hunter pulled his neck back further and further.

Dean glared at the filthy, scum of the earth creature. He felt no pity for the man trapped inside his own body. For all he knew, that man was dead and gone. All Dean saw was a hunk of meat in a fancy suit with a slithering, Hell infested demon inside. He truly didn't care what would happen next.

"You're gonna regret that, buddy. Now tell me-where is Sam Winchester?"

Sahar gargled a sick laugh. "Your brother is gone, Dean. He was gone a long time ago. Lost to all."

Dean gripped Sahar's dreadlocks harder, causing the demon to spit up more blood. This interrogation was nearing its end.

Dean held the knife the Sahar's throat. "I don't believe you."

"Believe me,” Sahar gurgled between sentences, “don't believe me. What does it matter? I'm dead, and your life's work is useless. Sam. Is. Dead."

Those were Sahar's last words. With one clean slice, Dean cut the demon's throat. Sparks of orange ran through his body, illuminating the skeleton, and burning his corrupted soul. The sound of Dean’s panting and demon blood hitting dusty floor were the only sounds for miles. Sahar could lie no more.

Dean packed up his things. He burned the body, readied the Impala, all with one sentence racing through his mind- Demons lie. Demons lie. Demons. LIE.

He slammed the trunk closed. Dean hated asking for help, but years of searching and coming up empty handed had left him desperate. That demon had been his last chance. The only lead he had gotten ahold of in months was reduced to ashes.

Dean leaned back and grunted. The demon had known about John. How had he known? It felt like a lifetime ago, but the argument still rang in Dean’s ears.

“Stay away from Sam, Dean. I know you don’t like it, believe me, I don’t either, but you need to stay out of this.”

“Why? We’ve been spending all this time searching for Yellow Eyes to avenge Mom and Sam, so why stop now?”

“I’m not stopping. You are.”

“What?!”

“Dean, your brother is beyond saving. I’ve seen what the demon’s done to him; there’s no coming back from the carnage he leaves in his wake... Just, please, stay out of it.”  

“Like Hell I will.”  

That was the last time he had seen his father. Five years, five years with no contact from the man he had once admired. Dean assumed it was a good thing and a bad thing. On one hand, his father hadn’t found Sam, on another, they still weren’t on speaking terms. Whatever, the problems of his father were his alone. On the road with no companion but the various mix tapes in his dashboard, Dean had learned how to take care of himself. He didn’t need his father; he needed Sam, and by God that’s what he was going to do.

Swallowing his pride, Dean dialed an old friend. “Pamela, it’s Dean. Yeah, yeah it has been a while. Listen, could you meet me at Bobby’s place? I… I need your help.”

.

.

.

   Bobby's place was an old, run-down mechanic shop with a home attached. Nothing to look twice at, but only at first glance. Take a step beyond the "Get Out" signs, rusting machinery, and the barking rottweiler, and you'd start noticing some oddities.

Strange crystals hung hidden in trees. The place had a subtle smell of salt to it. And, behind every other rusted iron rod, there would be a toolbox full of polished knives, and other assorted weaponry. Dean knew that some trucks were stashed with extra rounds of ammunition, and salt. He had to admit- he’d missed the old place.

It’s, well, it’s really good to see you, boy.”

   Bobby held Dean in a tight hug. If it was anyone else, Dean would have let go immediately, but Bobby was, well, Bobby. He had watched over Dean when he was too young to hunt. He had helped Dean fix his first car engine when he was twelve. More recently, he had jerked Dean out of his pity party after the big fight with John. He had aided Dean more than Dean cared to admit. In more ways than one, Bobby was Dean’s father.

   Dean released Bobby from the hug. “You too, Bobby.”

   It had been years since the two had had a real, face-to-face conversation. Between hunting, and searching for Sam, there was no time for chit chats. Neither could admit that it wasn’t great to see the other after such a long time.

“Alright, don’t hog the boy, Singer.”

   A woman in a tank top with dark hair smiled at Dean. “He’s got to save one for me.”

   Dean smirked. “I could never forget you, Pamela.”

The psychic raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if that was a pickup line, or a compliment, but it doesn’t matter. Come here.”

   Pamela embraced Dean. “We missed ya, kid.” Pamela said into Dean’s ear.

   Dean pulled back. “Yeah, I, I’ve just been busy.”

   Bobby snorted. “‘Busy’ my ass. ‘Busy’ is working one case. What you call ‘busy’ is what other people call ‘obsessing’.” Bobby sighed. “But, I guess it runs in the family.”

   Dean froze. “I suppose it does.”

   A dark silence fell over the group. The air suddenly felt like was pounding on Dean’s chest, trying to break him.

Pamela smacked Bobby’s arm, and gave him a stern glare. “Anyway, we aren’t here for you boys to sulk around. We’ve got work to do.”

Pamela strode into Bobby’s house, leaving Dean and Bobby in her dust.

“I’m sorry, boy.” Bobby said, “It’s just. I worry about you.”

A moment passed, then Dean gave Bobby a sly smile. “I’ll make sure to hold those feelings close to my heart, old man.”

“Shut up and get inside… idjit.”

Pamela was waiting at Bobby’s kitchen table. “Glad you boys decided to join me.”

“Bobby was just too overwhelmed with emotion at seeing me. Personally, I think he might need help.” Dean pretended to whisper the last part as he sat down next to Pamela.

“Blab all you want, boy, but I’ve still got pictures of you during-.”    “Ha ha, you’re right, Bobby. Let’s. Just. Move. On.” Dean said through gritted teeth.

The old man victoriously took the final seat at the table. Bobby’s kitchen wasn’t a ‘kitchen’ in the sense of home cooked meals, sit down with family area. His had more of a “this is a week old, but it’s probably still good” charm to it. Old and new beer bottles sat on the countertop. The trash can was already filled with old beer cans, discarded numbers, and dirty napkins. One wall proudly held an array of landlines with labels such as “FBI”, “CDC”, etc. Some might call it a fixer upper, but Bobby’s house represented every American hunter, and he was damn well proud of it.

At the table’s center sat a silver blade, a bowl, and a strange necklace. A simple piece, with a leather strap, and one gold pendant. No one knew the piece’s exact origin, only that it was highly valued among people who collected supernatural artifacts. Bobby had acquired it some years ago, and it had never seen the light of day until Pamela found it.

“And you’re sure about this?” Dean asked.

“About 75% sure.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, making Pamela raise her hands in surrender.

“Hey, if this thing was buried so deep that even Bobby isn’t sure, you can’t have a 100% guarantee.”

“She’s right, you know.” Bobby pointed to the strange necklace. “What little lore I could find on this thing points to it being able to sense something. A few sources say the old man upstairs, but a few reference it as a tracker.”

For last ditch efforts. Dean thought.

“But,” Bobby picked up a blade. He extended the handle to Dean. “here’s to hoping it’ll work in our favor.”

Dean nodded, and took the knife. In one swift motion, he slit the palm of his left hand. Searing pinpricks of pain jolted through his appendage. Dean bit his lip in concentration, pouring every fiber of him, every thought, every molecule, into one single thought- Sam.

His blood dribbled into the old ceramic bowl. Bobby took the necklace, and sank its head into the growing pool of red liquid. Dean could almost feel Bobby’s energy mixing with his, both shouting Sam’s name. Bobby left the ancient pendant to soak in Dean’s blood. The brother leaned back, his mind racing, yet focused. All he could do was replay that night. The night he lost not only his mother, his brother, but his father as well. The necklace would work. All evidence pointed to the mysterious piece holding great power. It had to work.

Pamela held out her hands to Dean and Bobby. Her eyes were set, no doubt deep in concentration. Everyone needed to be prepared for whatever came next, be it disappointment, or relief.

Dean grasped her hand, letting his blood flow into her palm. “Let’s do this.”

.

.

.

I dreamt of a two lane road. I turned left, then right; there was no one. Trees clung to pavement's edge, itching to crawl into the forbidden territory of craggily cement.

I could see the moon overhead. The moon, the stars, they all hung blissfully in a sea of black night sky. When had I ever had a dream so quiet? So… uneventful? Something wasn't right. Quiet wasn't right, not for me.

I took another step forward, but almost fell on my face. I felt the ground swell beneath my feet. Cracking cement heaved up, then down, like a breathing chest. I was sent careening into a nearby tree. My back hit the rough bark with a “thud!”. I fell onto moist grass, surely bruising both my knees.

The world began to merge together. Stars slid into trees like two watercolors converging. The bright moon twisted into a blurry spiral; becoming one with the darkness of the night. I held my own spinning head, my eyes squeezed painfully shut. It was all too much. Too many swaying, spiralling images. I was in a sick LSD trip with no way out.

“Been down since I began to crawl…”

What the Hell?

Somewhere beyond me, music was playing. Mournful lyrics with an upbeat tune, I could almost feel it growing closer to me.

“... Been down since I began to crawl

If it wasn't for bad luck, you know I wouldn't have no luck at all

Hard luck and trouble is my only friend

I been on my own ever since I was ten…”

   Slowly, I felt the world begin to cease its warped escapade. My body’s molecules stopped feeling like they were being drawn and quartered. Beneath my hands, the grass calmly receded. In its place, a rough ground grew. Gaining my courage, I finally dared to open my eyes. The first thing I saw was tattered carpet. I gingerly rubbed the fabric, where grass had been moments before. Still disoriented from my roadside experience, I gave myself a moment to lift my head.

   A house, an old, musty house, with books scattered everywhere. I was in some sort of den-turned-office room, with an old wooden desk at my back. Everything would have appeared relatively normal, if not for the three people holding hands in front of me. An old man, a woman, and another man, whose back was turned to me. Their eyes were all closed in deep focus, a mysterious bowl sat on the table between them.

I could tell immediately that they weren’t demons. There was no smell of sulfur in the air, only booze and old books. It didn’t seem likely that Azazel would recruit humans to do his work, even for small cases. If it wasn’t demons, then where was I?

I tried to stand up, but all the blood had drained from my legs. Instead, I ended up falling backwards onto the old writing desk. Papers and books went tumbling from their respective places, and, in sync, the three figures opened their eyes and turned towards me.

My world stood still. Everyone was at attention, almost in fighting stances. The old man’s eyes grew incredibly wide, his face completely drained of color; the woman looked almost equally as stunned. Normally, I would be as far away from the old house as possible, leaving it and its secrets in my wake. One thing stopped me- the final figure. Bright green eyes stared at me, the same eyes I had watched the light drain from. It was him- the man from my dream.  

“Dean?”

“Sam?”

We both stopped, shocked at our synchronized responses. Dean took a small step towards me. The woman looked like she wanted to protest, but thought better of it. The man in the trucker’s cap had tears in his eyes.

“Is,” Dean held back a choking sob. “Is it really you?”

“I, um….” I nervously shuffled my feet. I might have known Dean from my dream, but I still didn’t really know anything about him. All I had was a gut feeling that we had met before.

The man with the trucker’s cap held Dean’s shoulder. “This is all a lot to take in, I know, but for right now we need to focus on finding him.”

Finding me? The only people who wanted to find me were demons. Had I been wrong? Were they playing me? I tried to inch backwards, but the desk was still in my way. I could have bolted to the right, to the open door, but something told me the three would have pinned me down in seconds. I didn’t want them to do something we would both regret.

My stomach suddenly tangled into a knot. My knees buckled beneath me from the spontaneous pain.

“Pamela?” Dean shouted. “What the hell is happening?!”

Sweat cascaded down my forehead. I couldn’t breath; it felt like the room’s air had condensed to form a solid mass pressing hard against my chest. Dean tried to take another step forward, but the woman, Pamela, grabbed his arm.

“Dean, this is still a vision. Something is obviously wrong on Sam’s end. Break what little connection we have and we’ll lose him forever.” She cast me a sorrowful look, then turned back to Dean. “Hurry.”

Dean nodded curtly. “Okay, okay.”

He squatted down to my level. I must have looked like a mess. Matted brown hair stuck to my face like glue on paper. My breathing reflected that of an asthma attack. I was drowning. Drowning in a sea of pain, of fear. Some… something was wrong. My soul was being ripped from my body. Dean’s body was practically trembling. He had tears in his eyes, like he was the one in pain.

“Sam? Sam… where are you right now?”

Where was I? Images flashed through my mind. Previously polished hallways were bathed in red. Once lively patients sat limp on blood- stained seats. My safe place, my windows, were as they had been when I left them- bashed in, but someone stood on the broken glass. Her brown hair was caked in blood, her white nurse’s gown torn to shreds. Collie turned to me, and my breath caught in my throat. Her eyes were completely bloodshot, liquid of life running down her cheeks.

“Help… help us… Sam.” Collie began to cough up blood. She fell in a heap on the floor, completely motionless.

“Sam? Sam!”

I was back in the old house. All three party members had high levels of worried looks on their faces, none more so than Dean. He was so close that he was nearly touching me, almost throwing Pamela’s advice completely out the window.

I sucked in deep breaths of air. “Brycon Family Psychiatric Hospital, Nebraska. Hurry.”

The room spiralled into a dark void, until Dean’s worried look was the last thing I saw.

.

.

.

Black eyes. I awoke to two sets of black eyes standing over me, both dressed in nurses’ bodies. I didn’t recognize either, but their sickening sneers were the signature stamp of every demon. I readied my body to bolt for the door, only to find I couldn't move. My hands were restrained in cuffs at my side, and my ankles were locked to the bed frame.

The female demon patted my head. “Aw, does baby want to play tag?”

“Go to Hell!” I spat at her.

Both demons howled with repulsive laughter. Their voices bounced off the walls as bone- chilling wails. The male demon’s eyes twinkled with mischief. A part of me wanted to ask what had happened to everyone, but the other part didn’t want to know.

“Oh,” he said. “That insult never gets old.” The demon grabbed my face. He squeezed so hard I could feel bruises begin to form. My squirming only fueled his excitement.

“Alright, alright. Calm down, everyone.” Someone’s voice called from the doorframe. A demon in a tight black dress and bouncing black hair relaxed her shoulder against the metal frame. Under normal circumstances, she would have appeared like nothing more than a woman going for a fancy night out. But, as the demon stood under the flickering bulb in my room, dark stains became more and more apparent on her dress. Black stilettos flaunted a nauseating color of red.

I should have felt revolted, utterly repulsed by the amount of blood that stained her face and hands, but I wasn’t. Innocent people’s blood that decorated her outfit wasn’t what made my stomach hit the floor- it was that I saw myself in her place. Young me stood in that doorway, drenched in demon and human blood alike, and I was smiling.

She grinned blood- soaked teeth at me. “We wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise.”

With a painful shove, the male demon released my face. Black Dress sauntered towards me, a signal for the other two to leave. She sat down on my bed, hardly making the mattress move.

She idlely made circles on my kneecap. “You know, Sam, we’ve all really missed you. It will be so great to have you back home.”

I jerked my leg away, as far as my restraints would allow me. The mere thought of her touching me made my blood boil. No, I was not going back. Dean would find me. Wherever he was, he would find me. All I had to do is stall.

“I am not going with you. Whatever it takes, I will beat you. I will beat him.”

Black dress gave an exasperated sigh. “Sammy boy, you don’t really believe that, do you?” The demon studied my face for an answer. Hard, stone- cold eyes stared back at her.

“Yes, yes I do believe that. I will shred my soul. I will fade into oblivion. I will do anything I have to. So, all you black- eyed sons of bitches can go screw yourselves.”

The snark faded from the demon’s face. Her eyes narrowed, anger at my stubborn resolve obviously building inside her. She knew I wasn’t bluffing. With a huff, she stood from my bed.

“You want to play hard ball? Fine. Guys!”

The two demons returned to the room, this time both holding a squirming hostage. My breath caught. I knew it had happened, but a part of me had prayed it wasn’t true. The female nurse restrained a gagged and bloody Collie. One eye was bruised so much that it was swollen shut, but the other was wild, darting around the room at every demon, until finally landing on me. Through her gag, she called my name.

All the blood in my body had turned to ice. I needed her to run. I needed everyone to escape with their lives. The demons were my responsibility. I had brought them down on the unsuspecting heads of people who had given me sanctuary.

Black Dress gazed back at the two innocent captives. “Pathetic, isn’t it? Human lives, so easily snuffed out. Their bodies, so easily damaged.”

With a swift flick of her wrist, she backhanded Collie across the face. The nurse who had shown such kindness to me, who was beaten because of me, let out a muffled scream. The demon struck again, and again, and again.

“Stop!” I shouted. I struggled harder against my bindings. I had to help Collie. She didn’t deserve what was happening; none of them did.

“Stop!” I screamed again.

Black Dress turned back to me, the devilish smile had returned to her face. She had known I would give in. She had known that I couldn’t let innocent people get hurt because of me.

“Ah, Sam.” The demon returned to my side, rubbing her bruising knuckles. “I expected more out of you. Seven years alone has made you soft. Then again, you were never truly be Azazel’s pet, were you? Escaping with your sanity, part of your humanity in tact. The sad fact is, no matter how much demon blood, no matter how much training you go through, a part of you always sees the good, doesn’t it?” She sighed, and flicked the caked on blood off her nails. “I suppose it’s just the Winchester in you, huh? You bastards never seem to learn your place...”

Winchester? Did she say Winchester?

Black Dress was still rambling, but I had stopped paying attention.

Winchester? Winchester like, like Dean? Are we related?  

Puzzle pieces began to fall into their rightful places. That was why he had been so emotional, so obviously desperate to find me. He was family. Dean was family, but a nagging sensation told me he was more than that. Dean was family, and, and…

The hospital faded away. I was in an old car, singing along to rock songs made long before I was born. Dean sat on the driver’s side, passionately belting out lyrics. We were happy. We were together, and we were happy.

The scene changed. Dean and I stood outside of a once busy office building. We were in fancy two piece suits. A grisly scene sat before us. A good seven feet of ground was tapped off, several patches of it covered with white sheets. We flashed fake badges at a skeptical police officer.

“Agents Zeppelin, and Elliot.” Dean lied. “We’re here to take a look at the bodies.”

The officer scoffed. “Good luck. They’re in about half a dozen spots.”

   I didn’t doubt him. The area certainly smelled like something had died. I turned to Dean, who looked like he might throw up. A small smile crept up my lips.

   My vision changed one last time. Deep, cracking pain shot through my right shoulder. Somehow, I already knew it was broken. I felt like utter crap. The world was dark and cold. My shoes dragged across muddy earth. A voice called somewhere in the darkness. Dean and the man in the trucker hat rounded a corner on the road in front of me. They were both carrying shotguns, like they were prepared for a fight.

That’s because they were. A voice rose in my mind.

Dean’s expression loosened into one of utter relief. “Sam?”

I smiled a little. “Dean.”

His joy didn’t last long. As quickly as it had arrived, relief was thrown out and replaced with sheer horror. “Sam, look out!”

I didn’t even have time to respond. A white hot pain, unlike anything I had ever felt before, sliced through my back. I fell to my knees, unable to carry my own weight. Dean ran towards me at full force.

“Nooooo!”

He slid to the ground in front of me. He was talking, but I could barely hear him. The pain in my back dulled into a deep throb. Dean was holding up my head, trying desperately to keep me awake. I knew it was no use. I could feel my soul begin to fade; my consciousness ascend from my body. I… I was dying

One last remark from Dean made it through. “... That’s my job, right? Take care of my pain- in- the- ass little brother....”    Brother. Dean was my brother.

My mind fell back into the hospital room. The demon was still talking, Collie and a patient were still being held hostage. It was like nothing had changed, but for me, the world had been flipped on its head. I had a family. I had people who missed me, who cared about me. I had people who had been looking for me my entire life, the life of a twisted demon boy. The other life, the one from my visions, that had been taken from me. My family had been taken from me. Azazel had stolen everything. A life had been stolen, but by God I would not let the one I lived be destroyed as well.

My body began to quake with anger; the world around was taking on a new light. I could almost feel the sweat from my body evaporate off, as if my rage was turning me into a human furnace. A newfound strength swelled inside my soul. All the demons must have recognized it as well. Collie stared at me with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

Black Dress leaned inches away from my face. “Are you even listening to me, boy? Don’t you care that-?” She cut herself off. Her eyes widened, whether from shock of fear I wasn’t sure.

“You know what? No. No, I don’t care. I am not that guy anymore, and nothing you, Azazel, or the Devil himself can change that. You know why?”

Without hesitation, I headbutted her in the face, sending her reeling backwards. She twisted her ankle wrong, and her stilettos sent her falling to the ground. The demon hit her head with a sickening “Thud!” on the hard surface.

“Because I’m Sam Fucking Winchester.”

The remaining two demons, sensing a turn in the tide, released Collie and the other patient. Their hosts’ bodies shook in convulsions, before flying out the door in twin plumes of smoke. Adrenaline was rushing through my body. There was more of them, I knew it. If Azazel was on his way, then there were more to come as well.

The patient had fled the room, which left only Collie and I. She was half facing the door, where the demons had taken their swift leave. I could see her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“Collie? Collie!”

The nurse slowly turned back to me. Her face was completely white, the only color coming from the bruises inflicted upon her. A thousand questions flew across her eyes in a single second. There was so much she needed to know, but apparently couldn’t find the words. Instead, she stared down at the unconscious demon on the floor. I was worried she might pass out, or have a nervous breakdown.

“Collie, look, I know this doesn’t make sense right now, but things are about to get ten times worse. I need you to uncuff me so we can get out of here.”

   She didn’t move.

   “Collie?”

   “D-demons. Those... those were demons.”

   I nodded slowly. “Yes, they were.”

   She nervously gulped. “And… and you?”

   “I… I’m a friend, which is why we need to go.”

   Outside my room, something crashed. I could hear the tell tale sound of demons flying through the air. They knew something was up.

“Collie! Now! I need you now!”  

Collie shook her head, trying to force herself out of her daze. She rushed to my side, and unlocked every restraint. I tested my ankles on the floor. They were a little weak, but I could manage. I twisted my wrists, trying to get the blood flowing again.

I turned to Collie. “Okay, where’s the speaker station?”

She blinked in surprise. “Ah, um, it’s at the front desk. We had a private room, but it’s shut down for maintenance.”

“Okay. Good, good, that’s good. Listen to me- go and wait outside. If you see an old black car, flag them down, alright?”

“But, what about you?” Collie furrowed her eyebrows. “Don’t think I’ll play ‘damsel in distress’ while you fight like a lone wolf!”

Her determination, her grit, that was the Collie that had watched over me during my time at Brycon’s. I admired that about her, but her willingness to fight wasn’t what we needed. Collie wasn’t equipped with the knowledge I had about demons, and we didn’t exactly have an arsenal of supernatural firepower at the ready.

“I’m sorry, Collie, but that’s what I need from you right now. Just trust me.”

She looked directly into my eyes. I felt my very soul being scrutinized. Collie didn’t know whether or not to trust me, and, given the circumstances, I didn’t blame her.

Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Take this hallway, then a direct right. Got it?” I nodded, and Collie started to head out the door, but she stopped short. The nurse turned back and pointed at me. “But if I die, know that it’s on your ass, Sam.”  

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I gave her a quick smile before she bolted from the room. There was a door leading outside, only accessible by a worker’s keycard. Collie would get out fine, but it was my turn to get to the front desk. I leaned down, and riffled through the pockets of the male nurse. A jolt of exhilaration rushed through me when I came back with his keycard.

I followed Collie’s instructions to the locked door. Swiping the dead man’s key card, I opened the door to the lobby, and to a horror scene. Bodies lay strewn across the floor. They were all in various intact states, depending on what demon attacked who. Nearly every inch of the carpet was soaked in blood. I held my mouth to resist the urge to vomit.

Another crash sounded behind me. Through the glass doors, I saw a growing cloud of smoke barreling down the hallway.

Ah, Hell...

I rushed behind the front desk, shoving aside the dead worker. “I’m so sorry.” I said sincerely.

All the destruction, the heartbreak, it was all my fault. Some would say that there was no way I could have prevented the destruction brought upon Brycon’s, and they would be right, but I could have kept myself on the run. If I hadn’t stopped for so long. If I hadn’t gotten so, so comfortable… It didn’t matter. What was done was done. My job was to avenge those who had lost their lives. It was on my shoulders to make things right.

On the desk before me sat various letters, a family photo, a stress ball, and a microphone. I glanced at the photo, of the smiling man, who lay dead on the floor. I said a quiet prayer for his family to forgive what I had done. I leaned into the mic.

“Deus, et pater Domini nostri Jesu Christi, invoco nomen sanctum tuum, et omnem immundum spiritum, qui vexat hoc plasma tuum…”  

.

.

.

“So, what? You exorcised an entire asylum?”

Dean and I were rolling down the backroads of Nebraska. It was one o’ clock in the morning, but I had no intention of sleeping. We had been driving down dirt roads, taking every shortcut and loop possible, in hopes that the police wouldn’t catch wind of our location. Personally, I had no problem with it; any moment I got to spend with Dean, with my brother, was a moment I would treasure. Of course, when he wasn’t making me sound like some kind of hero to his surogat dad.

I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. Dean was making it out to be far more of a big deal than it needed to be. “I mean, you just say the words.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “‘You just say the words.’ Can you believe this, Bobby?” He shouted into the phone.

Over speakerphone, I could hear the snicker in Bobby’s voice. “Sounds like your brother could teach you a thing or too.”

“Hey! Say the word- I’ll kill any monster. Shifter, demon, chupacabra. I’m there.”

Bobby sighed. “Unfortunately, I know that’s true.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but held back another snarky remark. A sense of joy I had never experienced before rose in me. For so long I had been running scared. Running from my past, even from my future. But with Dean, with Bobby? I wasn’t scared anymore.

“Hey, uh, Bobby.” I said into the phone. “Did you… did you get what I asked for.”

A moment of silence passed. “Yeah, yeah I got it. Collie’s fine too, in case you were wonderin’.”

“I never had a doubt that she would be fine… but, you’ll still meet us at your house, right?”

“... If it’s what you want. Honestly, Sam, I don’t know if this will accomplish anything.”

I felt a rock tie itself to my gut, and begin to pull me down. I knew it was probably a fruitless endeavor; Dean and Bobby had both said so, but I had to at least try.

“I know, Bobby, but if I don’t… If I just sit here, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”  

“I get it, boy. You hard headed Winchesters just never give up.”    “If we weren’t hard headed then we wouldn’t be Winchesters, would we?” Dean smiled to himself.

“No, no, I suppose not. I’ll see you boys in a few.”

I returned the burner phone to my pocket. Dean had insisted that I get one, and I was happy to oblige.

“He’s right, you know? About being not sure if it’ll work?”  

“... I know… But I have to try.”

I leaned my head against the cool glass window. The moonlit roads of a peaceful night rolled past. Trees, bushes, the occasional wild animal, all flew by in a flash. Everything was so calm, so normal, that I could almost believe I was as well. I could almost believe that I wasn’t infected with demon blood, that there wasn’t a crazed demon out to get me, or that my family evidently hunted the monsters I had grown up around. I could almost believe it, almost. However, a part of me didn’t want to, just like a part of me didn’t want to send my journal. But, we all have to overcome our demons, even if it takes us a little while.

So, John, if you’re reading this, I hope you understand my side of events. Dean filled in a few blanks, but wanted to keep it third person. He insisted that it was my story to tell, not his. It was kind of nice of him, then again, it was his fourth beer, so he was feeling a little generous.

Please know that I don’t resent you. Everything you did you did because you wanted to protect the people you love. Being scared of who I had become, uncertain if I was still “Sam”, makes sense. But, if you would ever be willing, I’d love to meet you. Dean has told me loads of crazy stories. Honestly, it sounds like our lives could be some kind of movie, or something like that.

Dean and I will be in Jasper, Alabama hunting a coven on the 27th. If you want, we could meet somewhere? Dean insists that there’s a great breakfast place nearby. Anyway, I’m not… I’m not anything to be scared of. I’m just… just me. I’m just Sam, Sam Winchester, and I hope that I can prove it to you soon.  

- Sam Winchester 

Good Lord, this took longer than it should have. Huge thanks to @cross-roads-blues for the art and @spneldritchbang for the event! Hope you enjoyed, and have a Happy Spooktober! ; )

[erule]

Can you see it?

Title: Can you see it?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4.200+  

Warnings: romantic, fluff, angst, teen!reader, time travel  

Summary: The reader dies and Dean asks Rowena help to bring her back, but it’s not that easy. He’ll have to come back in time and make her remember him.  

Notes: This is the story I wrote for the Fandom Writing Challenge, my prompt was pudding. This contest is such a great idea! Hope you like the fic :)  

<< Can you see it? >>

<< Yeah, I can see it. >>

Dean smirks, his eyes still closed, while he’s laying on the grass, the left arm under his head and the right one on his stomach. She’s laying next to him, breathing slowly, an eye opened now.

<< You’re cheating. >> Dean says.

<< Nope. >>

<< I bet you have your eyes opened. >>

<< Just one! >>

<< Unbelievable. >> Dean comments, opening his eyes, propping on his elbows, turning to look at her, raising his right eyebrow.

She looks at him, a lock of her hair that descends on her shoulder, a roguish smile just mentioned. Dean lives for moments like this, when they’re playing like two teenagers. He feels younger (and a bit dumb) whenever he’s with her, but maybe it’s a good thing after all, since they had to grow up so much faster than the other kids. Since he has to play the parent all the time, with Sam (it’s not as bad as it may seem, that’s just his job, to look after his pain-in-the-ass little brother). Since he has to kill the monsters to clean up the whole world, a mess that he didn’t start, but that he has got to finish. His heart feels heavy, sometimes, because he thinks he doesn’t deserve a corner of peace in this world, especially with her, but Y/N taught him to be a little selfish when it comes to them, to spend two minutes alone, because he has to stop to pay for Atlantis’ punishment: the world doesn’t need him to take it on his back. She is the one who needs him.

<< What are you thinking about? >> she asks, bringing him back to the Earth.

<< I don’t deserve you. >> he replies and she rolls her eyes, sitting down. Everytime he tells her these words, she gets angry. Everytime, except for this one.

<< Dean, you know you do. >>

<< I don’t. >>

<< That’s not your call. >>

Dean snorts. He always loses against her.

<< Fine. >>

She smiles, this time for real and Dean’s heart skips a beat, when she does it.

<< You know I love you, right? >>

And that’s here, in this moment, that he understands it: this is a dream. She doesn’t say it. It’s not in her DNA to tell these three words, like him and like his dad. That’s why she didn’t get angry. But Dean nods, holding back his tears, because there’s only one explanation of this dream.

<< I know. >>

Out there, she’s dead.

 He still has nightmares, about what happened three weeks ago. He just can’t get through it, he can’t forget. There’s her blood on his hands, red, too red like strawberry’s juice and sticky. The world is crumbling down from his back, an avalanche, hitting his spine, crushing his bones and flattening his lungs. It just feels wrong. Wrong that she got to die so young, wrong that he had to watch her leaving for the last time, wrong that she was still holding the gun and not his hand.

There’s not a way back from the darkness. That’s what Sam told him, before he got out from the warehouse and slaughtered the witches who hurt her. Even the newspapers talked about it. His moment of unglory. His first memory without her. Even though she was with him, somehow, in his mind.    

<< Can you see it? >>

<< Yeah, I can see it. >>

Dean opened an eye, then the other one, while she was still listening to the wind, eyes closed and legs crossed. He put himself closer to her, his hand a few centimeters away from hers. His dad would have said that he was a coward, but the truth is that he didn’t want to rush the situation. He let it evolve.

He gulped.

<< What do you see? >>

She remained silent, moistening her lips before she could talk, while he was completely kidnapped by the movement of those.

<< I see… an enormous pudding looking at me and asking me to eat it! >> she exclaimed, opening her eyes and then Dean tickled her. She tried to run away, but he succeded to hold her back, listening to the beautiful sound of her laughters.

<< Y/N, you’re such a liar! >>

<< Alright, alright, I’ll tell you what I saw, if you let me go. >> she said and Dean did what she asked. << Thank you. >> she stated, adjusting her t-shirt, that had risen. << I saw it. There was this… white house and… >>

<< Am I the new President of the United States? Awesome! >>

<< Jerk. >>

<< Bitch. >> he answered.

Y/N snorted.

<< Can I keep going? >> << Yes. >> << Good. This house was ours and Sam lived with us, but like in the basement. Don’t laugh, Dean. Then… Oh! You were a mechanic and I was a waitress. >>

<< Wow, humble. >>

<< Yeah, very humble. We were happy and… nothing more. >> she finished, shrugging her shoulders.

Dean nodded.

<< Something else? No? I like it. >>

<< Do you? >>

<< Yes, I do. It’s… simple, real. I like it. >>

She looked at the grass, without even seeing it. Dean raised her chin with a thumb, forcing her to lock her eyes into his. Stars, stars that suddenly were becoming constellations.

<< We won’t have it, right? >>

Dean promised her that the lies were not considered in their relationship, but it turned out he lied anyway.

<< Yeah, someday. >>

Then, her hand reached for his.

 He was outside Rowena’s door, with a bottle of beer in his right hand, banded because he punched the bartender. Not that he was concerned or something, but Sam would have thought the worse, so he had to keep it for himself as a secret. He didn’t have secrets with her.

He knocked. He heard her footsteps behind the door, hoping he didn’t have to force her to do things she didn’t want to do. He wasn’t that kind of man. Or, at least, he wasn’t once.

<< Dean. >> she said, with her accent, smirking. << What are you doing here? >>

<< Sam doesn’t have to know about all of this. >>

She rolled her eyes.

<< No, I won’t enter in your stupid family feuds! Not anymore! >> she shouted, trying to close the door, but Dean stopped it putting a shoe between the door and the jamb. She gave him a bad look. << You better be convincing, Dean Winchester. >>

<< Trust me, I will. >>

She looked at him one last time, then she let him enter. Her hotel’s room seemed so expensive, he asked himself how she managed to pay for it, but it was none of his business. He just shaked his head.

<< Tell me. >> she crossed her arms, annoyed.

<< It has to be a way to bring Y/N back to life. >>

<< No, there’s not. >>

<< Listen to me: your coven did this to her, so you’re gonna fix it! >> he screamed, angry.

<< I was running away from them, they were not my coven! >>

<< Yeah, but we were trying to help you and it’s your fault if she died! You owe me, Rowena. You’re gonna clean up this damn mess. >> he said and Rowena swore she saw actual flames in his pupils.

She snorted, but he got a point. He was half right. There was a sperimental way to help that girl, but it was stupid to give this information to a desperate man.

<< There’s something. >>

<< Okay. >>

<< I can bring you back in the past, in an exact moment of her younger age, to warn her. >>

<< It doesn’t sound hard. Where’s the catch? >> << She has to remember who you are. >>

Dean shaked his head, counfused.

<< We didn’t know each other. It’s an oxymoron. How can she remember me, if we’ve never met? >>

Rowena gloated.

<< This is the difficulty. There has to be something inside her soul that only you can reach. It will be like she met you in another life, like she did, because I’ll send you in the past of a parallel world, in which you will never meet. >> she explained. << In or out, Dean. >>

He thought about it for a minute, then he nodded. Perhaps, he was just being selfish, because in that world she would have never become a hunter, qithout knowing him and she would be stilla live right now, but he needed her.

<< In. >>

She didn’t have feelings, but she knew that if she could have ones, she would have felt sorry for him. The last time she saw those sad eyes, was when Fergus killed Alonzo. That’s why she felt the need to warn him.

<< You could remain stuck in the middle, Dean. >>

Dean shrugged.

<< As long as I’m with her, I don’t care. >> he responded.

Rowena nodded, then she prepared the elements for the spell. An hour after that, Dean was laying on the bed, his eyes closed and Rowena was moving her hands, casting a sort of sleeping spell.

<< You’re gonna sleep for two days, Dean. You don’t have very much time. >>

<< It will be enough. >>

 When he opened his eyes, we found himself in a graveyard. He saw some people around a tombstone, grieving and crying. Between them, he recognised her. She was younger, her eyes were circled in her, but she was not sheding a tear. She had her hair tied up in a ponytail, whitened knuckles and she was looking at the ground. Then, he looked at the picture on the easel. She had his father’s eyes. That’s what happened in her life that made her kinder, stronger, nicer. She buried her father, when she was eighteen. She never told him. He knew her age, because he saw some old photographs. It was the most important moment of her life, probably. The moment she became the Y/N he learned to love.

He came closer to them, thinking about what he should have said. Sam was the good one at this, not him. He was always too rude or too embarassed. So he took a deep breath and walked.

<< Hey. >> he said to her, after the priest was gone.

She raised her eyebrows.

<< Does we know each other? >>

<< Yeah. I meant, no… I knew your father? We worked together? >>

<< Were those answers or questions? >>

Damn, he was already making a bad impression on her. So he did it again, he lied to her. This time, he would have been convincing.  

<< We did. >>

<< Oh. What’s your name? >>

<< Dean. I’m Dean. >>

Something, like a switch was pressed in her head, but Dean wasn’t sure.

<< Hi. >> << Hi. I’m sorry for your loss. >>

<< Yeah, thanks. >> she answered. << It was… >> she bite her bottom lip. << It sucks, to be honest. >>

<< I know. I lost my father too. I didn’t love him as much as my mother, but it was hard anyway. It always is, when you lose someone of your family. >>

It was hard when I lost you, he would have liked to say, but he couldn’t and so he didn’t.

She nodded.

<< Despite everything he did, he was a good father. >>

<< What did he do? >>

<< I thought you knew. He stole all the money from his society. That’s why you have been fired. The company has failed. He did this for us. I hated him for a very long time, but I can’t be angry at him now, right? He payed his debts. >> she said, looking at the tomb. << He payed for all of it. >>

<< Y/N, he did a good thing in the wrong way. The company was already sinking like the Titanic… >>

<< I’m sorry, I have to go. Thanks for your presence, Dean. >> she said, wanting to go away from him.

She didn’t want to hear the truth. She didn’t forgive her father. Never. Not that he couldn’t sympathy for her, but it was the reason why she couldn’t move on and it was the reason why she didn’t say those famous three words to him in so many years. Because she loved him, she let herself be fragile by trusting him and he died. He betrayed her.

He followed her. Firstly, she went to her house with her mom and the guests. After half an hour though, he catched her escaping from the window. There was the Y/N he knew. She went outside a school, maybe her old one and she stayed there, looking at the guys that went out from it. Her gaze was full of melancholy.

<< Do you remember something good? >> he asked, coming closer to her.

<< Are you stalking me, old man? >>

<< I’m barely thirty years old! I’m not old. >>

She smiled a bit.

<< Don’t worry. I don’t like boys of my age. >> she answered, her hands in the pockets and an off brightness in her eyes.

<< Sweetheart, I’m not here to fill your ego. Tell me what you’re doing here. >>

<< My mom sent you, right? >> she questioned. Dean nodded. Is it a lie, if you don’t say it? << Tell her I will be fine. >>

<< You won’t. >>

<< It’s not your call. >>

She was stubborn, like always. He loved it. The problem was that he had half a day to make her “remember” him, so he couldn’t enjoy her company for too long, sadly. He just realised how much he missed her.

<< Listen, Y/N: I don’t wanna seem an old man that gives you a crappy advice for your life, but I know the feeling. >> he started and he had suddenly her attention. << Look, I… recently lost a person that I really loved and I blamed myself for a long time, before I realized it wasn’t my fault. That was, perhaps, the worst part, because I didn’t have anyone to blame. So I reached agreements with the truth: I loved her and she died, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t in my heart anyway. >>

She looked at him, his eyes were glossy.

<< Was she your girlfriend? >>

He shaked his head.

<< Sort of, but not really. We just enjoyed each other company. >>

<< Did you forgive her? >>

<< For what? >> he asked, confused.

<< For leaving you alone in this world. For missing her so much, it hurts in your chest all the time. >>

<< You’ll fill the void, someday, Y/N. Or you won’t, but it will be okay anyway. Someone will take the pain with you. >>

She nodded, holding back the tears.

<< Thanks. >>

<< You’re welcome. >>

She dried out her tears, gulping.

<< Can I see you tomorrow, again? >>

Dean smiled.

<< Of course. >>

<< Okay. See you tomorrow, then. >>

And now he had just 24 hours to make her fall in love with him.

 The day after the tragedy, Dean was waiting for her outside the door like it was a date. He prayed that her mom didn’t see him. Y/N looked so young, he almost felt like a maniac going out with her, but in their reality she was twenty-nine, so he felt relieved.

<< What’s your profession now, Dean? >>

<< Oh, well… I’m a hunter. >>

<< Cool. My granpa was a hunter too. >>

<< Yeah, I know. >> << Did we bump into each other some years ago? Probably no, I would remember you. >>

<< I wish you did. >> Dean murmured.

<< What? >>

<< I don’t think so. >>

<< Yeah, I would remember your pretty face. Hell, if you’d be just three or four years older than me, I would really have dirty thoughts about you. >>

Dean really thought for a minute that Rowena was messing with his head, making fool of him with that prank, because he didn’t even get to kiss her once when she was still alive. He didn’t have the chance. He didn’t even know what he was to her.

<< Can we talk about something else, please? Do you want to go eat something? I’ll take a pie and you’ll take pudding. >>

<< How do you know about my favourite food? >>

Dean gulped. Damn.

<< Your father told me, I think. >>

<< Oh, right. He used to bring me one when he was late for dinner. >>

<< Maybe your father and I were very similar, after all. >>

Then, they entered in the bar. It was nice and good-looking, but Dean kept looking at her instead, because if something would have gone wrong, he could have returned in a world in which she wasn’t alive and the idea killed him on the inside.

For about two hours, he totally forgot it. He just sat down and watched her eat her pudding, laughing at his jokes, talking about their favourite things, learning some new elements about her younger version and listening to the old ones he already knew, but without getting tired of her. He just couldn’t get tired of her. He missed her so much, a hole in his heart just opened and threatened to swallow him alive.    

<< I can’t believe I forgot it! >> she exclaimed, suddenly. << Dean, I’m sorry, but today I have to babysit my little nephew, so I have to go home. Can we see each other tomorrow? >>

Dean’s heart fell in his stomach. He had got two days. Just two days and they were slipping away from his fingers. He couldn’t pretend anymore.

<< We can’t. >> << What? Why? >>

<< Look, I’m tired of lying to you, because I know that lies are the worst thing to you. I’m gonna be honest with you and I hope that honesty doesn’t make me lose you. Again. >> he answered. She seemed confused and a bit scared.

<< Again? >> she repeated, her voice was shaky.

<< Y/N, this is a parallel world in which we weren’t supposed to meet. Probably, it’s a world in which you survive. Yeah, I’m sorry to tell you that, but in the other world you die and I couldn’t live without you in it, so I asked a witch what I had to do to bring you back, but I only have some hours. I know that it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me. >>

She gulped, processing all the information he just gave to her.

<< What are you supposed to do, to help me? >>

<< I’m supposed to make you remember me, even if we’ve never met. >>

She rolled up her sleeves around her fingers, nervously.

<< How did we first meet? >>

He smiled, remembering that day.

<< It doesn’t sound like you, but I swear that you were dressed with this pink ribbon, tied up to your hair, looking like a vintage girl, outside this cafeteria in California, giving tickets for the new opening. I took one and then I made a very dumb joke to impress you, but you laughed at it. You laughed and I fell for your laugh. >>

She had tears in her eyes and it hurt him to see her like that.  

<< So, the dead girl that you loved… was me. >> she whispered.

Dean clenched his jaw.

<< Yes. >>

She brought a hand on her mouth, just a moment before she went away from there. He tried to follow her, but she had always been faster than him, so he let her go away.  

 It was night, when he was laying on the grass of her courtyard. He was looking at the dark sky. There was just a star and it was about to explode, because it was too bright and too far away. Like her. How can you dig so deep into someone’s soul in order to make them to fall in love with you? He didn’t do it in six years, he couldn’t do it now in six hours. He was about to be brought back in a world he didn’t belong to, without her. Or he would have been stuck in the middle with her, that probably hated him right now. But, at least, she was alive. She would have been in love with someone that would have deserved her more than him.

<< Pudding? >>

He sat down immediately. She was standing next to him, offering him some pudding to eat. He nodded.

<< Thanks. >>

They remained silent for a while, just eating.

<< I’m sorry. >>

<< Shh. >> << Y/N… >>

<< Okay, just tell me. Just tell me how you got it. How did you fall in love with me? How did you understand it? When? Why? >>

He clenched his jaw.

<< I don’t know. >>

<< You suck. Just like my father. >> she said angrily, standing up and walking away.

<< Please, don’t go! >> he yelled, following her.

<< You are a liar! I could tell, if I loved you! >> she shouted, turning to face him. << I could tell you from the way that you look at me, that makes me blush, because that’s too sweet, no one looked at me like that. I could tell you, because you make me shiver, when you talk like you know me, but I don’t recollect a first meeting with you. I could tell you, I could tell you, because I feel a connection with you that I’ve never felt with anyone, anyone. I want to spend hours with you talking about stupid things and eat pudding, because hell, that’s all I want. And I’ve met you just yesterday! I don’t believe in soulmates, Dean, but I do believe that I’ve felt something for you in the other world. >>

Dean gulped, holding back the tears, trying not to look like a complete fool in front of her.

<< How would you feel, if I told you I loved you? >>

She bursted into tears, without being able to answer, but it was an answer to him.

He felt the wind the was trying to bring him back. It was all around him, calling him with Rowena’s voice. He was returning to his world, the world that didn’t belong to him, because she wasn’t in it anymore. Maybe he would have preferred to stay there, stuck in the middle with her. Alive, but not alive, at the same time. But existing, existing in her heart.

<< I remember you! >> he heard her shouting. << I’m not leaving you! >>

She reached out a hand and her fingertips touched his for a second, right before he disappeared.

 When he woke up, Rowena was biting her nails.

<< You’re back! I was already thinking what to say to your brother, you know, just in case… >> << She remembered. >> he said.

<< What? >> she asked, astonished.

<< Yeah, but I guess it didn’t work very weel after all, uh? >>

<< Dean, if she remembered, it worked. >>

Dean’s eyes staring to wander.

<< Where’s she now? >>

<< In the same place you left her. >> Rowena answered, pushing him outside the door. << Where she broke your heart. >>

When the door closed behind him, he found himself in that warehouse again. It was a mess: blood on the walls, witches on the ground, Sam in a corner, trying to fight against one of them. He was back in the past, that was the night she died!

<< Dean, go help Y/N! >> Cas shouted and he woke up. He had a knife in his hand.

He ran away, looking for her in the room she left the world forever. He screamed her name, but she didn’t hear it. The witch was casting the spell that killed her, but this time he was there, he was ready. He threw the knife along the room and it cut his throat. She fell on the ground, the blood on her face, but she wasn’t dead. He took a breath of relieve and went to hug her.

<< Hey, hey, hey, I’m okay. I’m okay. >>

<< I love you. I should have told you. >> he said.

She remained quiet, her hands on his back.

<< I love you, too. >>  

                                                                ***

 Laying on the grass, Dean was holding her hand, looking at the sky. It wasn’t a dream, this time. He was smiling, even if he was trying not to or she would have made fun of him.

<< I’m gonna repeat the question: do you see a future with me? >>

<< True answer or sarcastic answer? >> she replied.

<< True one. >>

She chuckled.

<< You’re such a dumb guy, Dean Winchester. >>

<< Yeah, but you love it. Alright, now do it. >>

<< A future with you? >> << A future with me. >> he repeated.

<< Okay. >>

She looked at him, while he was still fixed on the stars. She smiled softly.  

<< Can you see it? >>

<< Yeah, I can see it. >>

[oathkeptroxas]

I loved your story on dean & laurel but I'm curious what's your take on those who say that Laurel is a gender-swapped version of Dean? If you agree I would love to get your take on the similarities between Laurel and Dean it's the only similarity I can think of is they are the oldest sibling.

Thanks so much for reading it!! :)

I don’t necessarily agree with referring to Laurel as ‘gender-swapped’ Dean because a) I don’t like that term and it’s implications that there are only 2, binary genders, and b) I feel it discredits Laurel’s individual development and dismisses her as ‘oh a female equivalent of something that’s already been done’.

However, there are a TON of parallels between these two that I believe would make them able to understand each other so well! There’s a difference between a similarity/parallel/comparison and ‘they are the same’.

Though Laurel and Dean are of course both older siblings, that’s not a similarity, that’s a narrative fact, a way in which they are the same. It’s the dynamics with their siblings and their individual personalities in how they deal with them that matter.

Dean would do anything for Sam. He’s sacrificed his life for Sam multiple times, Dean is willing to die for Sam at any given moment, no questions asked. When Sam died Dean did what he had to in order to get him back, consequences be damned. He gave up his childhood so that he could dedicate himself to preserving what was left of Sam’s. Keeping Sam safe is his priority.

Keeping Sara safe growing up was Laurel’s priority. Sara was free-spirited, a rule breaker. Laurel did things by the book, was studying to be a lawyer. Sara was prone to getting herself into trouble, Laurel got her out of it. When Sara died Laurel did whatever she could to bring her back, consequences be damned, no questions asked. 

Both Sam and Sara took their older siblings for granted.

Now, in Sam’s case it’s more than forgivable. Dean felt betrayed/deserted by Sam when he left for college, Dean just wanted his family to stay together and hated being alone. However, it’s necessary and healthy to put yourself first sometimes. Sam removed himself from a toxic environment and took the chance to better his life. Yes, it hurt Dean. But it was necessary for Sam’s well-being, even if Dean didn’t understand. Sam may have been far too young when all this started to realize how much Dean gave up for him, and even as the series goes on Sam learns new things about their childhood that allow him to appreciate Dean a little better. Sam’s ‘betrayal’ of Dean is justified and forgivable and not really a betrayal at all (though it felt like one to Dean).

Sara resented Laurel. When Sara told Oliver about how Laurel shut down that party Sara went to and then Sara got grounded and then Oliver and Laurel were dating and Sara said that Laurel only did that to be spiteful and steal Sara’s chance with him. That’s so fucking immature and short sighted?? And totally out of character for Laurel. Now, if you remove Oliver from the equation, Laurel’s actions would have been the same? Her underage sister was lying to her parents, going to a party with older boys where unknown substances were being passed around. Of course Laurel got it shut down? She was being responsible. The fact that Sara made that about a boy because she was jealous is absurd. Laurel had Sara’s best interests at heart and Sara dismissed her as being spiteful. She thought ‘Laurel doesn’t want me to have fun or be happy’, Laurel thought ‘My little sister is putting herself in dangerous situations with people taking advantage of her’.

Laurel and Oliver and Tommy were friends their whole lives. They grew up together. Laurel and Oliver were essentially childhood sweethearts. I’m an older sibling. I know younger siblings follow you around like imprinted ducklings and think that hanging out with the ‘big kids’ makes them cool. Younger siblings having puppy love crushes on their older siblings’ friends is common af. Thea had one on Tommy. So, any ‘feelings’ that Laurel may or may not have known Sara had for Oliver, she could have easily written off as just that? There was no malicious intent on Laurel’s end. Yet, Sara betrayed her by sleeping with her boyfriend to prove a point? And then when Sara returned she started sleeping with Oliver again before she had worked to build the bridges between her family, and then invited Oliver to a family dinner at Laurel’s home when she knew Laurel was going through a hard time? 

Now, Dean and Laurel also had similar dynamics with their fathers. John neglected/abused Dean, he took him for granted and made Dean shoulder the weight of his responsibilities. John even acknowledged ‘you shouldn’t have had to do that, it should have been me saying that to you’. Due to the circumstances, Dean was conditioned to believe that Sam’s well-being was his responsibility, and anything that happened to Sam was immediately his fault.

Laurel’s father emotionally abused her and her mother neglected her because they couldn’t handle the fact that Sara was gone. So, Laurel, not being given the chance to grieve her sister and boyfriend (who died whilst fucking behind her back) then got deserted by one parent and mistreated by another. Laurel became Quentin’s carer through his alcoholism and shouldered his responsibilities, despite her own trauma. Quentin even said ‘she was my rock’ because he used Laurel as a emotional crutch and leaned on her constantly whilst offering her constant criticism for her choices. He blamed Oliver for what happened to his family, and in a way blamed Laurel by association, because if it wasn’t for her relationship with him, Oliver wouldn’t have been in the Lance’s lives.

Alcoholism is another comparison. Alcohol is a huge coping mechanism for Dean. We see him wake from nightmares and immediately reach for a bottle, regardless of what time of day it is. Dean is drinking beer or whiskey in almost every episode. It helps him deal with his trauma. It’s not healthy but he’s dependent on it. Despite this dependency though, Dean is a high-functioning alcoholic, in the sense that his addiction does not hinder his ability to live his life and do what he needs to.

Laurel’s alcoholism hit her harder. She was never a big drinker, she didn’t even drink socially very often and not excessively. She went from 0-100. And with an alcoholic father (addictive personalities and substance dependencies can be hereditary) it was almost inevitable that she would become dependent, and that it would become a vice. She couldn’t control it, whereas Dean was able to control his to the point where, though he drank a lot, he did so to cope. Laurel started drowning her sorrows only for it to overrun her entire life, she lost control. Dean’s experiences with the mark of Cain and the first blade are a prime example of an addiction gone wild. Both Dean and Laurel have addictive personalities. This is also shown in their steadfast determination in doing whatever they can to reach an end they’ve set themselves.

Dean saw Charlie as an adoptive sister, they had a lot in common, he loved spending time with her and Dean is a big believer in finding and building a family. Laurel was exactly the same with Thea. Laurel was there for Thea more than Oliver was.

Dean uses meaningless sex as a coping mechanism for his trauma, his lifestyle doesn’t afford him the opportunity to commit. Yet, despite this, Dean has never forgotten the name of any of his one night stands. Dean wanted to build a relationship with Cassie Robinson, she was the first person he came clean about his life to. It was Cassie who turned him down, she knew they would grow to resent each other if they pursued something long distance and didn’t want that for them or herself. Dean was so enamored by Lisa Braeden after their weekend long fling literally years prior, that when he was given a year to live and found himself in her hometown one day, he tracked her down. He thought he was on borrowed time and didn’t want the opportunity to see her again to pass him by. When he found out she had a kid, he was shocked but not in any way upset that child could be his, was even disappointed when Ben wasn’t. He left them without attempting to pursue anything because at the time he believed he was going to die and didn’t want to allow Lisa and her son to become attached to him because he wouldn’t be around much longer. Dean had recurring dreams about a life with Lisa where he adopted Ben.

Laurel (as far as we know in canon) has only ever dated two men: Oliver and Tommy. Two boys that she grew up with and knew her whole life and trusted implicitly. We don’t know how exactly Tommy and Laurel first hooked up, but we know that during the time Oliver was gone it was strictly casual. It was more than likely a coping mechanism, they trusted each other, they comforted each other over the fact that they’d both lost Oliver and one thing led to another. She took comfort from someone who knew what she was going through instead of finding meaningless sex elsewhere. We see in flashbacks how Laurel had planned her and Oliver’s lives together and imagined getting married, how she told Oliver she wanted to move in together. Both Laurel and Dean are ‘all or nothing’ types. They are able, and often want to, commit. They love with every part of themselves, but sometimes other things just get in the way.

Which leads me to my next comparison, perhaps the most important one: Dean and Laurel are both loyal to a fault. They have forgiven people who never deserved it countless times. They’ve always put the well-being of others before themselves. They’ve been walked over and disregarded by people they loved yet they can’t help but still love them. Their sense of loyalty and family is unfaltering, even at the detriment of themselves. And despite this, they fight to keep the people they have and they don’t think they are deserving of the love they receive. Dean once said “sooner or later everybody’s gonna leave me.” Laurel once said “What is so wrong with me that everybody leaves?” They both fear abandonment because the people they devoted themselves to never showed that loyalty in return. 

These two would honestly be perfect for each other because their beliefs are cemented in the same ideals. I think they’d have an incredible dynamic and they’d understand each other so well. I’m sure there are things that I’m forgetting but this got long as hell and this is just the big ones that jump out at me. I’m sure @laurelwinchester would know more about this :)

[luckychxrm-blog]

Libby Foster was a girl of many talents. She was highly intelligent, had friends and was active in sports. Some would say she was the golden child of the Foster family, even overshadowing her own uncle brother. Everything about her time in Solane was considered to be picture perfect, right down to the vast yard. There was even a small swing that hung from the side tree. She would spend early summer evenings on that swing just watching as people would drive by or even walk down the street. It was Sloane and nothing bad ever happened there. Young Libby had been only fifteen years old when she experienced her first heartbreak. It was the turnabout dance at Sloane High School and she had decided to ask the cute boy Dean out. What started out as a night of pure bliss turned into a girl's worst nightmare.

She had wondered off for a few moments to spend a few dances with some of her closest friends. As the songs came to an end, she turned around to see that Dean was nowhere to be found. As she made her way down the deserted hallways of the school, she soon stumbled across Dean but he wasn’t alone. She wanted to yell, she wanted to scream but not a sound could come out of her mouth. Tears simply rolled down her cheeks and she went back the way she came before exiting the dance. She thought about texting Trent to come and get her but she knew he was busy that evening with his girlfriend. Instead she opted to simply walk to the one place where she knew she’d be alone -- the park.

The park was right in between the school and where she lived so it was easy to get to and at this time of night, she knew there would be no one there. She wasn’t exactly supposed to be there since it was past sundown but she honestly didn’t give a fuck. The hem of her dress drug along the wood fiber playground chips as she made her way over to the swing. If it got dirty she wasn’t going to care. It wasn’t like her night was as perfect as she had hoped for it to be. As she sat down, she wrapped her fingers around the cool swing chains and began to push herself back and forth slowly. With each push, she found her emotions boiling to the surface. There was anger of course, but there was also pain which resulted in the tears that streamed down her rosy cheeks.

She had lost track of how long she had been sitting there when she heard a noise coming directly to her left. Looking up, she noticed a sleek black car pulling up and parked in one of the nearest spots before it turned off, the lights no longer shining in her eyes. She knew immediately who the car belonged to and simply put her head down. She was really in no mood to talk about what had occurred that evening. She could hear footsteps making their way closer towards her and soon the structure shifted ever so slightly as someone sat down in the swing beside her. “Let me guess, Meryl told you I left and you knew this would be the place to find me? Are you gonna yell at me for being along in the fucking park because if so I don’t wanna hear it right now.” She tried to keep her voice emotion free, but even she wasn’t able to hide the slight quiver as she fought back tears.

“She called your mom who called me. Luckily the date ended a bit early tonight because she needed to work in the morning,” Trent replied as he looked straight ahead before turning to look at his niece little sister. “I’m not going to yell at you. But I am going to ask what happened because Meryl wasn’t exactly clear on the details.” At those words, she felt her breath catch in her throat. She could still see Dean and that girl so vividly that she wished she could just erase it all and never think about it again. Unfortunately that wasn’t possible. She’d have to go to school that following Monday and see have to see them. She could try to ignore them the best she could but it was a small town and word spread like wildfire.

“I had left Dean alone for a few moments to share a dance or two with some of my friends. We were having such a great time and then when the music came to an end, I turned around to see that he was gone. I wondered off to find him but..” She could feel the emotion bubbling to the surface before tears started to run down her cheeks. “I found more than I bargained for. He was there with some bimbo from chemistry class. I only saw bits and pieces of what they were doing but it was more than enough for me. I left after that. I didn’t want to call you because I didn’t want to admit I had a shitty night. I didn’t wanna go home either so I just came here.” No sooner had the words tumbled from her lips, she looked over to see the anger etched on her brothers face.

It wasn’t something she saw often as it was usually hidden from her. She watched as his eyes closed for a few seconds before he turned to look at her. “I want you to listen to me. He is completely and fucking scum. You deserve a hell of a lot better than that piece of trash.” No other words were exchanged between the two siblings and the pair just sat there in silence. As time passed the temperature began to drop slowly which caused the blonde to shiver. Before she knew it, Trent removed his jacket before wrapping it around her shoulders. She glanced up and offered a silent thank you before tugging at the edges to wrap it around her small frame a bit tighter. Moments later, he stood up, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Let's get you home, kiddo.”

No other words were uttered that night from either of them. When they returned home she simply made her way into her bedroom and shut the door. She spent the majority of the weekend there too with her cell phone off. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone -- including her friends. That following Monday when she arrived at school, she sat down in homeroom, her gaze trained on the floor. That was until she heard all of the whispers and gasps from fellow students. Looking up, she found her eyes grow wide at the sight before her. There was Dean but instead of looking cool and confident, he was now sporting a black eye and busted up lip. As the initial shock wore off, she found the corners of her mouth curling up into a grin. She knew exactly who was responsible for the damage and had a feel that Dean had learned his lesson which was simple -- don’t fuck with the Fosters.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spring had finally arrived in Sloane and Libby was excited. It meant she was finally able to transition out of her winter wardrobe and could start wearing her cuter spring / summer clothes. To the blonde, the coming of spring brought about a fresh start. She would soon be graduating and planned on attending Yale University. She had already received her letter of acceptance; something her family was very proud of. She was the golden girl in the perfect family and honestly she felt as if she was on the top of the world. That afternoon, she was going out with some friends to do some shopping and wouldn’t be back until late and told them to not wait up for her. Her mother and her husband were out for the afternoon and Trent was busy doing his own thing.

Libby spent the next few hours buying a few things at the store. She bought everything from shorts, purses and even a pair of Louboutin shoes. As she went to make her final purchase of the day, she was a little surprised to hear that they could not accept it due to insufficient funds in the account. It was absolutely absurd because she knew that her parents had a ton of money so her purchases that day would not have made a huge difference. She asked the lady to try again and again but each time the card was declined. She thanked the lady and left the merchandise at the counter to be put back by an associate. As she turned around to look at her friends, she heard her phone go off and looked down to see it was her mother calling.

Suddenly, she felt her stomach drop to the floor -- there was no way this was going to end well. When she answered, her mother didn’t give her a second to speak. She simply told Libby that she needed to return home -- alone. When the call was disconnected, she made up some excuse and left her friends standing there confused. It turned out that her brother had been taking various sums of money not only from her parents but from other people in town. At first, she didn’t want to believe that her brother was capable of such things. He had money in the bank so there was no reason for him to be taking it from her parents or the townspeople for that matter. Unless… unless all the money he had, was only his because it was stolen.

Everyone had caught word of what Trent had did and they all came together to turn him in. Libby Trent stood off to the side, her arms wrapped across her chest tightly, not wanting to look up at her brother as she heard people yelling and screaming at the man. As she heard the crowd die down, she glanced up to see that he was already placed into the squad car and then moments later the door was shut. For a brief moment their eyes were locked on one another but she quickly looked away. He was not the same person she knew growing up. He was not the man who took her for ice cream after learning how to drive, the man who beat up the asshole who switched dates the middle of the school dance.

However deep down inside, there was a part of her that was unable to look past his mistakes. He not only took money from those people in town, but he took money from his own family which was something she would never forgive him for. With her head trained down towards the ground, she began to walk away, ignoring anyone that tried speaking with her. She heard the squad car pull away but she didn’t stop to get one last look at him. No she kept walking, she was never going to be looking back. In young Libby Fosters mind, he was as good as dead to her.

[weve-all-got-our-secrets]

My Best Friend's Reactions to Supernatural: Part 4, Season 7

Meet The New Boss CASTIEL YOU ARE GOING TO BREAK THE WORLD Cas is still sassy as ever CASTIEL YOU ARE TOO COCKY AND I CURRENTLY HATE YOU SHIT SAM CUT HIS HAND ON GLASS CASTIEL WHAT HAVE YOU DONE OKAY GOD CASTIELIS A FUCKING DICK THE POOR CAR Oh Dean knows not to raise his voice at Bobby What is Sam hearing OK CASTIEL CALLING OUT THE PEDO PREACHER IS OKAY BUT KILLIING HIM IS NOT OKAY SHIT WHAT'S WRONG WITH CAS SAM IS IMAGINING THE CAGE NO NOT OKAY CROWLEY LIVING IN A TRAILER IS HILARIOUS Annnnd now Cas has found him What's wrong with Cas' hand? SAM IS ON THE CEILING BEING CHOKED BY A CHAIN MY BABYYYYY CROWLEY CALLED SAM A GIRAFFE LOLLLL YOU CAN'T BIND DEATH DEAN YOU DIPSHIT CAS WHAT'S MOVING INSIDE YOU OH MY GOD THAT IS GROSS Excuse me sir but we need your solidified lightning bolt to stop the new god Lol don't fuck with Dean Winchester HA DEAN BOUGHT FOOD FOR DEATH Hey Death, sorry about this. Want a pickle chip? CAS WE TOLD YOU YOU WOULD FUCK UP AND NOW YOU'RE GONNA EXPLODE Cas, I would not sass Death if I were you DAMMIT DEATH CASTIEL YOU ABSOLUTE DIPSHIT You can't hate Death, he's just doing his job CAS WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WHY CAN'T MY BABIES JUST BE HAPPY Sam is so perfect it's painful OH MY GOD CAS ABOUT DAMN TIME YOU REALIZED YOU DONE FUCKED UP CAS SHIT ITS LUCIFER NONONONONONONONONONO THIS IS NOT OKAY NO I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT SAM IS STILL IN THE CAGE WHERE'D SAM GO CAS NO PLEASE DON'T BE DEAD NO NO NO NO NO NO NO OH THANK CHRIST MY BABY IS ALIVE SHIT NO CAS NO DEAN BOBBY SHITTTTTTT Hello, Cruel World Oh my god are they gonna have to deal with the Leviathans??? SAMMY MY POOR BABY SHIT SHIT THEY'RE IN THE WATER SUPPLY CAS' TRENCHCOAT I'M SOBBING CAS CAN'T BE DEAD NO NONONONONONONONONONO I WILL NOT ACCEPT THAT MY ANGEL IS DEAD FUCK THEY'RE POSSESSING PEOPLE I JUST WANT MY SAMMY TO BE OKAY I'M CRYING AGAIN GODDAMMIT SHIT THE LEVIATHANS ARE GETTING IDEAS Bobby ain't taking at any of Dean's bullshit OH COME ON WHAT DID THE POOR HIGH SCHOOLERS DO JODY AYYYY Oh this just keeps getting creepier and creepier SHIT CREEPY LITTLE GIRL IS NOW CREEPY DOCTOR OH SHIT THE OLD LADY IS SO DEAD GOD BLESS BOBBY SINGER SHIT HE ATE THE OLD LADY RUN JODY RUN LIKE HELL FUCK OFF LUCIFER YES JODY CALL BOBBY NO DON'T LEAVE SAMMY ALONE Oh shit everybody is gonna get eaten I love Jody DEAN WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A DICK WAIT HOW IS DEAN THERE BUT NOT WITH SAM FUCK SAM IS HALLUCINATING RUN BOBBY RUN LIKE HELL SAMMY MY POOR BABY DEAN IS SUCH A GOOD BROTHER KILL ME NOW OH MY GOD NO BOBBY PLEASE DON'T BE DEAD I WILL KILL MYSELF IF BOBBY IS DEAD WOW WAY TO MAKE ME CRY AGAIN DAMMIT SHIT IT'S A LEVIATHAN FUCK DEAN BROKE HIS LEG SAM GOT A PIPE TO THE HEAD MY BABY SAMMY PLEASE DON'T DIE I'M SCREAMING DAMMIT SHIT THE LEVIATHAN IS ALIVE The Girl Next Door OH SHIT POOR DEAN SAMMY PLEASE BE OKAY BOBBY IS ALIVE PRAISE JESUS DEAN YOU BETTER HOBBLE LIKE YOU'VE NEVER HOBBLED BEFORE SAMMY PLEASE BE OKAY DRIVE BOBBY DRIVE OH THANK GOD SAM IS FINE LOL BOBBY AND DEAN WATCHING A SPANISH SOAP OPERA Sam please don't lose it again Bobby is a genius and I love him Of course Dean wants pie. DEAN ALWAYS WANTS PIE SHIT THE LEVIATHANS ARE ONTO THEM SAM CAKE IS NOT EQUIVALENT TO PIE AWWW YOUNG SAMMY SAM WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING GOING OFF BY YOURSELF AND HE TOOK THE IMPALA OH DEAN IS GONNA BE SO PISSED Lol Dean said fuck you leg cast Dean can find Sam better than anybody Awwww Sam liked a girl YOUNG SAM IS SO CUTE I COULD DIE YOU GO LITTLE SAMMY Lol what a great way to introduce yourself Sam AWWWWW THEY KISSED Sweetheart Sam ain't stupid SHE WAS JUST HELPING HER KID SHE KILLED HER MOM FOR HIM EXCUSE ME WHILE I CRY You kinda deserved that punch Sam I'M NOT CRYING YOU ARE DEAN NO PLEASE DON'T KILL AMY DAMMIT DEAN RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE KID TOO GODDAMMIT DEAN Oh I already know this is not gonna end well THE LEVITHAN DUMPED HOT NACHO CHEESE ON THE POOR GUY JFC Defending Your Life OH SHIT THIS CAR IS TRYING TO RUN THIS GUY OVER HOLY SHIT HOW THE FUCK DID THE CAR GET IN THE APARTMENT Sam is gonna be pissed when he finds out Dean killed Amy DEAN NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR PUNS WHY IS A LITTLE GIRL DEAD OH SHIT THE DUDE ACCIDENTALLY RAN HER OVER I'd hate to have to burn the bones of a little kid Oh we've got another runner NO BAD DOG WE DO NOT KILL PEOPLE Its something about vengeance Dean needs a nap Dean what the fuck do you think APPLE PIE IS MADE OF?!?! ORANGES?!? Maybe the apples are laced with LSD? People do change. It justs takes a very loud wake up call a lot of times Kinda mad at Dean, kinda not. SHIT DEAN FUCK OSIRIS GOT DEAN NO OLD MAN DON'T LEAVE THE SALT LINE GODDAMMIT IS SAM ABOUT TO BE DEAN'S LAWYER OH MY GOD ITS JO OH THIS NOT COOL EAT SHIT OSIRIS I will personally fuck Osiris up DEAN LOOKS LIKE HE'S GONNA CRY Sam would be damn good lawyer DEAN IS NOT DYING AGAIN I AM NOT HAVING IT Dean is a fucking hero but he hates himself so much its heart breaking OF COURSE SAM GETS CAUGHT BY THE JEWISH PRIEST JO PLEASE DON'T KILL DEAN WAIT WHAT DID SAM TELL THE JEWISH GUY OH HELL NO THAT IS SO FUCKED UP COME ON SAMMY HURRY UP AND SHOVE THE HORN UP OSIRIS' ASS OH THANK GOD SAM FORGAVE HIMSELF NOW YOU DO IT TOO DEAN WOW WAY TO BREAK MY HEART WRITERS Shut up, Dr. Phil HOLY FUCK SHE JUST GOT ROASTED BY A HAIRDRYER Dean is so cute when he sleeps HE'S HAVING A NIGHTMARE ABOUT CAS AND SAM AND AMY JUST END ME NOW LOL DEAN JUDGING SAM FOR JOGGING Dean it's obvious something is wrong with you you dipshit Her: Dying in a port a potty is one shitty way to die Me: I hate you Oh great some kind of witchcraft or some shit EW WHY WOULD YOU WANT ANYTHING TOUCHED BY TRUMP ANYWHERE NEAR YOU Bobby does not get enough credit RUN DEAN RUN Death by cupcake is just plain mean GOD BLESS THE WINCHESTERS Goddamn lady is nuts SAM HOW DARE YOU PUT DEAN OUT OF THE MOOD FOR PIE OH SHIT ITS A WITCH COUPLE HE JUST HAD A BITCH'S HEAD GET SLICED OFF WITH A TRAY SHIT ITS THE LEVIATHAN GUYG Oh shit she is PISSED ARE THEY SERIOUSLY BEING MARRIAGE COUNSELORS?!?! AND DEAN YOU WEIRDO This is hilarious AWWWWWW Hey look they didn't have to kill anyone Dean really is drinking a bit much AND SHIT LEVIATHAN GUY THANK YOU WITCH GUY Dean needs a hug Slash Fiction Oh what are the doing now DEAN WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE EVERLIVING FUCK GUYS WHY DID THEY KILL ALL THOSE PEOPLE OH MY GOD FUCK THE LEVIATHANS Those boys would have died permanently two seasons ago if it weren't for Bobby FUCKING SHIT Well Dean is Batman... SHIT FRANK IS GONNA KILL THEM FRANK IS FUCKING CRAZY DEAN HOW ARE YOU STILL ADORABLE AS HELL WHILE BEING HELD AT GUNPOINT HE JUST SMASHED SAM'S LAPTOP Oh nvm he gave him a new one Eat shit Leviathan BOBBY CUT HIS HEAD OFF I LOVE YOU BOBBY NOOOOO THEY CANNOT DITCH BABY DEAN LOOKS LIKE HE'S GONNA CRY JODY IS JODY FLIRTING WITH BOBBY I SHIP IT DEAN CUT THE SQUEAKER TOY FROM THE REARVIEW MIRROR LMAO HE JUST SAID NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER DEAN IS SINGING ALONG TO ALL OUT OF LOVE I CAN'T BREATHE Leviathans are fucking crazy GODDAMN LEVIATHANS OH DEAN IS GONNA BE UPSET Bobby is cute. He's like a crotchety old grandpa OH THAT IS SO FUCKED UP What happened with Bobby's dad?!?! FUCK IT'S THE LEVIATHAN SAM AND DEAN FUCK THEY GOT ARRESTED JODY YOU FUCKING ROCK HE KISSED HER YOU DUMB FUCK COPS GODDAMMIT WHAT DID DEAN TELL YOU YOU DUMBASS SAMMY NO DEAN NO HELL YEAH GO DEAN SHIT THE LEVIATHAN DEAN TOLD SAM THAT DEAN KILLED AMY Well Dean just technically killed himself DAMMIT BOBBY MAKE A MOVE NO NOT THE OLD COP Who's this suited asshole CROWLEY YOU LITTLE BITCH HIS NAME IS DICK LOL DAMN HE SHUT DOWN CROWLEY Oh no Oh shit SAMMY NO DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE SAM GODDAMMIT SAMMY

[waywardrose13]

Mind Over Matter (Angsty Ending)

ummary: She sold her soul for her sister, and saying goodbye to her family and the one she loved most was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Five years later, she finds herself topside, and Y/N walks into a whole new nightmare she never thought she’d have to face.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Dean x OFC

Word Count: 14,168

Warnings: ANGST, soul selling, flashbacks, nightmares, torture, graphic violence, character death, depression, implied suicidal thoughts, lack of appetite/anorexia (sort of), unrequited love, language, injury, self loathing, self deprecation, Dean is a dick, hurtful things said to reader, TW: STRONGLY implied past sexual assault/mentions of, Suicide, mentions of self harm

There are a lot of warnings, please let me know if I missed any.

A/N- Here’s the hightly requested angsty ending I wrote for this one-shot. I personally like this one better than the fluffy one but I won’t lie to you, I literally started crying while writing it so...

Would rather have a fluffy ending? Go here!

“This isn’t a good idea,” Jane said, sweeping a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“There are people dying,” I said, grinding my teeth. “We’ve been over this.”

“We don’t know what we’re up against,” she muttered. “We could have at least-”

“No, Jane,” I said, whipping my head around to look her in the eye. She closed her mouth, young eyes looking up at me. “I told you. We can handle this.”

“But Dean said-”

“I don’t give a fuck about what Dean said. He doesn’t get to bench us. He’s not dad,” I said. “There are people dying in this town and this is how we can stop it. If he won’t do it, we will.”

She sighed, biting her lip. “Okay.”

I smiled, putting my hand up to her cheek. “Stay with me. If I say run, you run. Don’t worry about me, okay, little duck?”

She nodded, blinking a few times before letting out a deep breath, following me into the vamp nest.

What we thought was a small nest, turned out to be a nest of about sixteen. We sliced our way through the rooms, our backs to each other as we moved through the barn.

A scream echoed through the room, and I turned to see Jane be picked up by two vamps, my eyes widening. One of them grabbed me from behind, and I let out a frustrated growl as I bucked and squirmed in his hold. I watched with a heavy heart as Jane was held down by one vamp as the other bared its fangs, gripping her chocolate hair in his fist as he sank his teeth into her throat.

“No!” I screamed, thrashing in the arms of the vamp behind me. He laughed, breath hot against my ear as one hand raised to palm at my breast. I growled, writhing with fury.

I reared my head back against his nose, and he loosened his grip enough for me to slip free. I grabbed my blade from the ground and swung it up, taking his head off in one motion.

I honed in on the vamp holding Jane down, kicking the back of his knees. He grunted, dropping to the ground and I swung my blade again, a hot spray of blood coating my face.

“Don’t move,” a voice sounded. I looked up, swallowing as I saw Jane in the other one’s hold. Her back was pressed against his chest as his hands crept to her bleeding throat, her eyes tired and legs weak as she stared at me. My face trembled as anger coursed through my veins, and I raised my blade.

“Let her go,” I hissed, his smirk growing.

“Why? So you can kill me?” He asked, his nose pressed against the side of her head. She flinched.

“I swear to God, you son of a bitch, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” He asked, looking at me again. “You don’t think I’ve got friends in other places? Please. Maybe I’ll take her with me, turn her. Maybe… she’ll be my mate.”

I drew my gun, clicking the safety off. He snarled, hands tightening. “That won’t do any good.”

“No?” I asked. “It’ll hurt through.”

With him distracted, Jane was able to retrieve a syringe of dead man’s blood from her jacket pocket, and she stabbed his thigh, a cry of pain escaping from his chest. She pressed the plunger, and as he realized just what she had done, I watched in horror as he clenched his jaw and flexed his muscles, the sickening snap of my sister’s neck sounding through the room.

“No!” I screamed, running towards her. She fell as he did, and I dropped to my knees, catching her before she could crash to the ground. Tears blurred my vision as I frantically felt for a pulse, pushing her hair back from her face. “No! No! No!”

I shot upright with a cry. My chest heaved as I took in lungfuls of air, my hands coming to wipe my wet cheeks and push my sweat drenched hair from my face. I fisted my hand at the top of my head as I clutched the sheet to my chest, tears still streaming from my sore eyes.

My door burst open, a startled scream leaving me at the sudden intrusion. Sam stood in the doorway, a worried look on his face as he stared at me.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked. I choked on my words, looking away from him.

“She’s… she’s alive?” I asked, squeezing my eyes shut. “She’s okay?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, knowing exactly what I meant. I turned my head towards him again, opening my eyes to look up at him. “She’s alive. I promise.”

I nodded, biting my lip as I was trying to slow my breathing down. I looked past him, spotting Dean in the hallway with his arms crossed and a hard look on his face. My heart panged, longing to be in his arms again. But I knew what I did hurt him. I watched with a frown as he turned and walked away, Sam still staring at me.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked. I nodded, and he murmured a quick “okay” before leaving me alone, closing the door softly behind him.

I laid back, my head resting softly against the pillow as I stared up at the ceiling. It was my second night back, the first time I had tried to sleep since hell. The memories from the dreaded night were slowly coming back to me, and even though I knew she was alive, I still felt the pain of when she died.

The bastard that killed Jane got what he deserved. He was an unrecognizable pile of flesh when I was finished with him. I had packed Jane up into the car, laying her carefully on the backseat before looking at a map, knowing exactly where I would go.

The demon had given me a year, my track record of killing them on top of being Dean Winchester’s girlfriend made the time change from the usual ten years. She had said it was almost poetic, receiving the same amount of time for selling my soul for my sibling as Dean did.

I hadn’t regretted it. Jane deserved to live more than I did, and I couldn’t imagine a world without her smile in it. She touched everyone around her, instantly filling someone’s day with light. Whereas I, on the other hand, was full of dark thoughts and anxiety. I wouldn’t be missed as much as her. And I couldn’t let her die. Knowing I would never hear her laugh or see her smile killed me.

So I made a deal. She knew I did something as soon as she woke up. She wasn’t stupid. She was furious with me for a long time, but I didn’t regret it once. Eventually, she understood, and we shed a lot of tears for a while, until I wouldn’t let her cry over me anymore.

Dean didn’t speak to me for weeks after I told him. It nearly killed me then and there. He was the only man I had ever loved. I hadn’t had many chances, anyway. He was my first real relationship, and I had fallen hard and fast. I was only twenty-two, and he was nine years my senior. Our relationship had been viewed as taboo from many people around us, but we couldn’t be bothered with that.

When he finally came back to me, we didn’t leave his bedroom for a good three days. We’d talk and make love, or simply lay with each other, basking in each other’s presence. I’d only seen him cry twice before, but he cried a great deal over those few days.

When the year was up, the bunker was quiet. Dean never left my side, and his hand never left mine. The thought of leaving him behind was absolute torture, and it made it worse when he frantically searched the books for a way out.

“There has to be something, dammit! Those old pricks had to have found a way!” Dean yelled, throwing yet another book across the room. I jumped as it collided with a lamp, both clattering to the ground, the bulb in the lamp shattering.

“Dean, please!” I said, taking his hands in mine. He shook me off, riffling through the bookshelves. “Dean!”

“No! I won’t give up! There has to be away out of this,” he said. “There has to be.”

He frantically flipped through book after book, simply dropping them to the ground when he was finished. “Stop it!”

He froze as my voice pierced his ears, and he turned to look at me.

“You’ll drive yourself insane! There is no way out of this that will end with both me and Jane alive.” He shook his head. “I can hear them, Dean.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

I swallowed thickly. “You know what. You went through it, and it means it’s almost time.”

He shook his head again, lip wobbling as he walked forward, hands cupping my face. “No, no, no. We need more time… I can fix this, I can-”

I silenced him with my lips, eyes fluttering closed as I surrounded myself with him one last time.

“Do me a favour, Dean,” I whispered. “Stop looking. Stop beating yourself up over this. Just know I love you.”

And not ten minutes later, I had walked up the stairs and out the front door of the bunker, sinking to my knees a few hundred feet away, embracing death with open arms, knowing that my sister was sleeping soundly inside.

I woke up buried in a coffin five years later.

I climbed my way out, finding myself in the field a little way behind the bunker. It was my favorite spot, mostly because it was where Dean and I proclaimed our love for each other. It turned into our little space, and I nearly dropped to my knees knowing that’s where he wanted to bury me.

After waking up, the world around me was calming. The field was a brilliant green, the grass taller than I remembered, and more wildflowers had sprouted. Kansas wasn’t known for their many trees, but the big oak that Dean and I would lay under was as great as ever, the leaves rustling in the soft wind. Memories haunted the grounds of the field, replaying the smiles and blushes and gentle caresses that I desperately tried to hang on to in hell.

But they were just that; a memory. A simple thought blown away by the breeze that no longer carried the life and love that once thrived there.

Dean tried to kill me when he saw me. He thought I was a shifter, or a demon. But Sam did the tests after calming him down, he too realized it was me. Sam welcomed me back with wide open arms, arms that I had to talk myself into walking into, and a few tears, but Dean barely said a word, his jaw clenched the whole time and arms crossed over his chest, almost as if he was blocking his heart. When I tried to touch him, he backed away, turning to walk down the hall without a word.

I jumped when I heard his door slam from deep inside the bunker.

So here I was, heart and spirit broken as I lay awake in my old bedroom, obviously not welcomed in Dean’s. Jane was out on a hunt with a friend, apparently. Sam had filled me in on what had happened within the years I was gone.

It killed me that Dean was so sour towards me. It made me realize that he must hate me for leaving, and that he had fallen out of love with me. I wondered if he found someone new. And although I knew he probably would, it still hurt all the same.

It wasn’t my place to feel that way anymore, though.

His reaction was odd, and the insecurities and self doubt that I had when Dean and I first got together began to creep into my mind. I never thought he’d give me the light of day, let alone be with me. And once we were together, it was hard to believe him when he said he wanted to. I couldn’t come up with a reason as to why, but he’d constantly remind me of the multiple reasons why he was, and somehow it would be okay. Eventually, those insecurities faded, but now, I wondered if what he said was really true, or if he simply told me what I wanted to hear.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep, so I turned onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut to try and will the tears away.

***

The next day, I didn’t see Dean at all.

Sam caught me up on Game of Thrones and watched the latest Marvel movies I had missed. But he could tell I was missing Dean. And he could tell I was lying about being okay.

Whenever he’d come near me, I’d flinch. I could no longer be touched, and I stuttered more, something I hadn’t done since I was a teenager.

But he didn’t prod. He let me be, and didn’t say anything when he caught me pouring a good amount of Dean’s whiskey into my coffee; or when I drank straight from the bottle at lunch. He didn’t prod when he realized I wasn’t going to bed for the night, leaving me at the library table with Dean’s whiskey and a glass of ice.

Everytime I close my eyes, flashes from hell would replay; the pain and fear I felt for so long bottling up inside my head with nowhere to go. It was five years Earth time, but six-hundred for me, and not once within those six-hundred years did the torture let up.

The bunker door opened around two in the morning, and Dean stumbled in. I watched as he ignored my presence, making his way to the liquor cabinet. I swallowed thickly as I realized he was looking for his whiskey.

He looked over his shoulder, grumbling under his breath as he stalked towards me, eyes hard as he looked down at me.

“That’s mine,” he said.

“Sorry,” I murmured. He glanced down at the bottle, lip twitching as he saw it was nearly empty.

“You just assume it’s okay to take something that doesn’t belong to you?” He asked, snatching the bottle from the table. He took a drink from it.

“Well I… I just saw it and…” I furrowed my brows as his stare never relented. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal. You’d share your stash with me all the time.”

“That was when we were together,” he snarled. He slammed the bottle down onto the wood, making me flinch.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, looking away from him. Tears pricked my eyes, and I bit my lip trying to keep them down. I couldn’t cry. Not now. Just knowing that he didn’t want to try to be together again made my heart clench painfully in my chest.

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re never sorry. You never were. And you’re not now. You’re back, and you think you just own the place again.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“You and Sam are pals. You’re in my flannel-” I glanced down at the shirt I stole from the laundry room- “And you drink my fucking whiskey.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up!” He yelled. I jumped, an unwelcomed whimper slipping past my lips. “You don’t mean to do anything! Why the fuck are you alive?”

Ouch.

A tear slipped down my cheek and I wiped it away, hoping he didn’t see it. But he did, and his face softened for a moment.

“I’m sorry that me being alive and out of hell has ruined your life so much,” I whispered, getting up to leave.

“Princess…”

I flinched at that, my body tensing up as memories flashed through my head. That nickname from Dean had been turned and used against me in hell. Amel, the demon who had taken me as his own toy, had began to call me that once he realized Dean did.

I vaguely heard him saying my name, and I gasped as his hand landed on my shoulder. I stumbled back, tripping over the leg of the chair and falling onto my ass. I trembled violently, my breaths coming in gasping gulps as I tried to catch it.

Dean lowered slowly down in front of me, shushing me.

“Hey, hey you’re safe,” he said quietly. I shook my head, scooting back away from him. My body shook with panic, and I frantically tried to catch my breath. “Y/N, hey. Look at me.”

“No, I-I can’t,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You can. Give me your hands princ- Y/N,” he said quietly. I didn’t move, and he didn’t push me to. He waited until I reluctantly placed my hands in his. They were rougher than I remembered, but still soft; his touch gentle, his fingers caressing my skin slowly. “Match by breathing. That’s it.”

I took a breath with each one he did, trying to calm down. That nickname registered pain that I tried to push away. I should have known it would be too hard to do.

His face was somber, and I allowed myself a good look at it. He had aged well, looking the same other than a few more lines here and there and a more defined face. The crinkles around his eyes had deepened with the years, but his green orbs were the same. They still held that slight sliver of hope that he rarely believed in, and still held the pain. But there was something else, a look I had missed more than anything.

He placed a hand on my cheek for a moment, not missing when I tensed up. His eyes bored into mine, but he pulled away after only a few seconds, standing without a word and walking out of the room, grabbing the whiskey on the way out.

***

“There is nothing you could ever do that would make me hate you,” his voice whispered in my ear. The sun shone brightly through the clouds, warming the air and the grass around us. My fingers ran through the blades of green, eyes trained on the opposite side of the field as Dean’s fingers gently moved my hair back from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “You know that.”

I sighed, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I looked up at him, glancing down to his lips for a moment. “I don’t.”

“Y/N,” he murmured, his hand cupping my cheek as he gazed lovingly at me. A small smile danced on his lips, and his thumb brushed against my skin. “You do. Do you know why?”

“Because we’re soulmates,” I whispered, looking down at the silly title I came up with months ago. ‘Boyfriend and Girlfriend “ wasn’t strong enough, and I had felt it the day we met that we were meant to be. He hummed.

“And you will always be my love,” he said quietly. “There is nothing, nothing, that could ever change that.”

“You’ll move on,” I said sadly, a tear falling from my eye. “You’ll find someone else. As you should. You deserve to be happy but I-”

“Even if I do, I will never feel for them like I do for you,” he said, shaking his head. “Hey. Look at me.”

I hesitated, obliging and meeting his eyes. He used his thumb to wipe away my tears, and he bent down to press a soft kiss to the tip of my nose.

“Hey. I love you, Y/N Y/L/N,” he said, forehead resting against mine. “Always have.”

“Always will,” I finished, my hand coming to rest against the side of his neck. And for the first time since making the deal, I felt okay.

***

I pushed myself up off the floor, steadying myself against the wall as the memory flashed behind my eyelids. Righting myself, I furrowed my brows and followed after Dean, my shorter legs moving faster to catch up to him.

I turned down the hall, spotting him almost to his door. Swallowing thickly, I raised enough courage to say what I wanted to.

“Hey!” I called, voice shakier than I would have liked. Dean stopped, his head turning slightly at the sound of my voice. I swallowed again. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” I saw him stiffen, and I watched as his jaw clenched. He looked down, a sigh heaving through him. “Always have.”

I waited for him to finish it. I waited for a sliver of something to hold on to that told me he still loved me. I just wanted to hear the words.

Always will.

But he stayed silent. He turned his head back, and walked the rest of the way to his bedroom door, not sparing another glance at me as he slammed it behind him.

A choked sob slipped past my lips, and I found myself stumbling down the hall to my room as I did my best to keep my cries silent.

The pain I felt was worse than anything I had endured in hell. It felt as though my heart had been ripped from my chest and crushed beneath his boot. I felt as though there was nothing left for me to fight for.

Except Jane.

She was coming home tomorrow. I would see her. Alive. And I couldn’t wait.

***

His laughs echoed off the cobblestone walls. The telltale sound of his boots clacking against the floors made me itch, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt his fingertips trail along my bare back.

“Look at you,” he hissed, his breath stinking of blood and decaying flesh. He slipped a forked tongue from his mouth, running it along my cheek before his hand came up to cup my breast. I flinched, trying to shrink away, but he simply squeezed harder. “What shall we do today?”

It had been two-hundred hell years. I had been burned, beaten, whipped, abused and assaulted to the point that I had given up fighting. I had been taken off the rack years ago, moved to Amel’s personal quarters.

I heard the crack of a whip, and the crackling of the flames. I tasted the blood with each lash, felt the searing with each burn, and I felt my ribs crack with each blow with a fist.

And finally, after what I thought couldn’t get any worse, I heard his belt jingle, and his hands grip my waist, and it took everything in me not to vomit then and there.

***

Hands were on me.

Strong ones.

Firm ones.

On my arms and the side of my face.

I lashed out blindly, making contact with flesh. The assaulter grunted, and I scampered away, falling off the bed and into a heap of blankets on the floor.

“Jesus! Y/N, it’s just me!” Sam said, his hand pressing against the nostrils of his bloody nose. “You were having another nightmare.”

“Oh, I- Sam, I’m so sorry,” I said, shaking my head.

“No, no, it’s… it’s okay. Nice hit,” he said, a small laugh leaving his lips. I cleared my throat, picking up the blankets and sitting back on the bed.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” I murmured, keeping my eyes down.

“No, it’s okay. Look, I understand. If you ever need to talk-

“I don’t need to,” I said quickly.

“Okay,” Sam said quietly. “But if you do need to-”

“I won’t.” I cut him off again. “I just- I’m just tired. Can I go back to bed?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Of course. Good night, Y/N.”

The door closed behind him, and I collapsed back on the bed, my breathing shaky as I tried to catch it. I didn’t want to close my eyes in fear I would see another memory. I couldn’t bare to be back there, to feel the pain and the crippling fear. I could taste the bile in my mouth at the memory of the feel of his hands on me, and a tear slipped down my cheek.

Sleep would have to wait.

***

Jane was coming back today.

I couldn’t begin to describe my excitement. She didn’t know I came back. Dean seemed to be even more on edge, which confused me more. It still stung to know that he didn’t love me anymore. That he didn’t care.

It had been almost a week since I returned. Each night was plagued with a different nightmare, eventually the mere thought of sleep making my stomach roll. Within that week, Dean had avoided me, and each day turned a little worse.

Sam was walking on eggshells around me, always scared about sneaking up on me or making too much noise. I was skittish, and he was trying to be careful, which I was thankful for. But the excessive worrying became a little much.

I heard the bunker door close in the distance, and my heart fluttered with excitement. I would be seeing my little sister again. Technically she was now older than me, but she would forever be my baby sister.

I jogged out into the library with a wide smile on my face, the first real smile I had since getting topside, not being able to contain the joy. I saw Sam out of the corner of my eye, a low gasp slipping past his lips.

My smile fell as I saw the scene in front of me.

Jane’s lips were pressed firmly against Dean’s, her arms wrapped around his neck. I placed a hand on my stomach as it jumped to my throat. It all made sense now. Why Dean had been the way he was towards me, and why Sam had been so cautious.

A pained whimper sounded from me unannounced, and the two broke apart, Jane’s hazel eyes meeting mine. They widened, mouth dropping open as she took me in.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, walking up the steps into the library. Dean avoided eye contact with me, and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

“She’s back, Jane,” Sam murmured, looking down as well. I felt as though my heart had finally destroyed, this being the last stab to an already broken heart. “It’s really her.”

My sister lunged forward, her arms wrapping tightly around me as she laid her head on my chest, ear pressed against it as she listened to my heartbeat. She let out a sound of joy, rearing back to look me in the eyes, tears swimming in hers.

“I never thought I’d see you again!”

“Here I am,” I whispered, my excitement gone. Her smile faltered, guilt quickly over taking her features.

“Look, Y/N… I-”

“I don’t really want to hear it,” I said, breaking away from her. I closed my eyes and shook my head, clearing my throat as a single tear fell. “I can’t- I can’t deal with this right now.”

She nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Dean finally made his way up into the library, his emerald eyes scanning my face.

“Look, I wanted to tell you but… you had just gotten back from hell after five years, and I don’t even know how long that is in hell time. I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said quietly.

“So you decided to keep it from me?” I asked angrily. “Because quite frankly, walking in on my sister and the man I love shoving their tongues down each other’s throats hurts a lot more than you just telling the truth.”

“Look, I know this must hurt,” Jane said. I scoffed. “But you gotta understand, we didn’t think you were coming back.”

“When did this start?”

“Few years ago,” Dean muttered.

“When?” I pushed.

They glanced at each other. “About a week after you died.”

Dead. I was dead.

It finally killed me.

“What?” I choked. “Dean did you… did you ever love me?”

“Of course I did,” he said quietly. “I just… I had eyes on Jane, too.”

“You what?” I whispered, vision blurry from tears. “When we were together?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I… I can’t deal with this right now,” I muttered, turning and taking off down the hall. My body surged with anger and hurt, Dean’s words bouncing around the inside of my skull. I was shocked. Shocked that it had taken them a mere week to get over me and begin seeing each other.

But truthfully, should I have been so surprised?

My whole life, I had been the outsider. I was the other sister. I was the other one who hunted with the Winchesters. I was the one who was invisible, so easily forgotten that people I had met a dozen times would look right through me with no recollection as to who I was. It was always Jane; Jane, Sam and Dean, the hunter trio that took on the world’s monsters. The trio with an angel friend and a debt that needed repaying by the King of Hell.

And then me. The one who was seemingly always in the background. The one left behind on celebratory toasts and claps on the back. The one who was never noticed missing until it was too late. I was always someone’s second choice, never the one someone thought of first or wanted first.

The one who was forgotten, the one who was given up on one too many times to count.

I locked my bedroom door, a heart-wrenching sob coming from deep within my chest as it all settled in. I always assumed Dean would find someone new, I had hoped. I just wanted him happy. But once I saw no one else in the bunker, I thought he was single. That maybe we could pick up where we left off. But no, he was with my sister, and had been since I died.

He had wanted her when I was still alive and sharing his bed.

I curled up into a ball on my bed, tears staining the pillow case, knuckles turning white with how tightly I was gripping the blanket. My cries echoed off the walls of my room, and I didn’t care who heard me. I was hurting too much to care.

At this point, I would have rather been dead. If I couldn’t come back to Dean, or to my sister, what else could I do? I could never look at them the same again. Knowing they were together in that way was much too painful to suppress.

I was tired, but I couldn’t go to sleep. With sleep came the nightmares, ones of my time in hell that I couldn’t bare to relive. I was scared of what played behind my eyes when they closed. So the simple solution to that, would be to keep them open.

I heard a knock on my door about an hour after I left the library. I ignored it, a few more knocks following a few moments after. Whoever it was, didn’t pry, and I heard the retreating footsteps after a little while.

Knowing Dean had began to have feelings for Jane while we were still together was heartbreaking. My own sister. The one I sold my soul for, only needed a few days to fall into bed with the love of my life. That’s what stung; is that I’d have to live with the fact that he would choose my sister over me, just like everyone else in my life.

***

I was exhausted the next morning. My eyes were heavy and I struggled to keep them open, knowing I’d need lots of caffeine just to get to noon. But I’d gladly put up with the tiredness if it meant not having the nightmares.

I shuffled to the kitchen, doing my best to stay out of sight. But of course, both Dean and Jane were in the kitchen, low whispers being heard from outside the doorway.

I took a deep breath before entering, their conversation coming to a halt. They both watched as I took a cup, pouring a generous amount of coffee into it before setting it on the table, turning and reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a bottle of rum.

I poured a few cap fulls of the alcohol into the black liquid, ignoring the stares from my sister and my ex.

“Don’t worry. It’s not because of you two,” Sam said, looking away from the staring eyes. “She does this every morning.”

“Why?” Jane asked.

Dean let out a breath. “She spent five years in hell,” he murmured. “It does shit to you.”

I sipped the coffee, grabbing a banana from the bowl on the counter and leaving the kitchen.

“Wait!” I heard Dean say. I ignored him, heading back to my room. I heard him follow me anyway, and I tried my best to hold my tongue. “Y/N, please.”

He grabbed my arm unexpectedly, causing me to jump, making me drop the mug to the ground. It shattered at my feet, the burning liquid splashing against my ankles as I fell back against the wall.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, holding his hands up. Sam and Jane ran out into the hall.

“What happened?” Sam asked, worried eyes trained on me, Jane’s trained on Dean.

“I just… I grabbed her and I scared her,” Dean answered. “I didn’t mean to.”

I trembled, backing up slightly. Which proved to be a mistake when I stepped onto a piece of the ceramic, a yelp bouncing off my tongue. I tripped backwards, falling onto my ass and flinching away from Dean when he tried to catch me.

“Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t touch me!” I said, scooting back away from him. I reached down and ripped the ceramic from my skin, a gush of blood oozing down onto the tile. I used the wall for support as I got to my feet, wincing when I tried to put weight down onto my hurt foot. “Just fuck off.”

“Let me help you back to your room,” Dean said, moving towards me again.

I took a few steps back. “No. Leave me alone.”

“But your foot-”

“I’ve had worse, Dean,” I said, throwing him one last glance before turning around.

I collapsed onto my bed when I got back to my room, thinking back to a simpler time. A time where I could turn to Dean and cup his cheek or hold his hand, where I could curl into him at night.

I let out a frustrated growl, looking down at my foot in the light of the nightstand lamp. I gently picked out a few stray pieces of ceramic, wincing only slightly as they ripped through my skin each time I tugged on one.

The only thing that kept me going when I was in hell was the thought of Dean. The only thing that kept me from ending it completely after I was topside, was Dean. The thought of seeing him again gave me enough willpower to fight through the nightmares and the memories. For a long time, he was the oxygen to my flame. He kept me going, kept me from ending it all; even before hell. And the mere thought of him brought me back to life, the thought of being in the arms of the one I called mine was more than enough to fight for.

But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t call him mine, and I couldn’t fall into his arms. I couldn’t curl into his body at night, seeking the comfort I so desperately craved. I couldn’t kiss him, or trail my fingers along his skin as I traced the freckles along his cheeks. Instead, it was my sister doing those things, the one person who I was sure I loved before Dean came along. She was my best friend, my other half, the one I sold my soul for. And she had intertwined herself into Dean mere weeks after my death.

***

“Hey,” Dean whispered. My eyes fluttered open, squinting, trying to focus on him in the dark. A lazy smile was pointed towards me, his hand softly pressed against my cheek. I smiled back, letting a sigh of content fill the space between us as my E/C eyes met his emerald ones. “I love you.”

He pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose, one to my forehead, and finally my lips, whispering one last “love you” before tucking me into his side, his chin resting on my head as he brought the sheet up over our bare bodies.

***

A knock sounded on my door, and I wiped away the tears, sniffling and opening the first aid kit.

“Y/N?” The soprano voice said gently. I sighed, picking up the alcohol pad and needle.

Jane opened the door, stepping inside silently. She stood there for a moment, watching as I prepped the needle. She then bit her lip, closing the door and making her way towards me, sitting gently on the bed beside me.

“Hey,” she murmured, hazel eyes trained on me. I pierced the needle through my skin, lip twitching at the sting, but staying relatively still. I weaved the needle in and out, sewing my skin back together.

If only it were that easy to do to a broken heart.

“Look,” she began, taking a deep breath. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but… I care about him. A lot. And… and I know that he was yours and I know you love him. And I’m sorry. I just never thought you were coming back.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to hear this.” I set the needle down after tying off the thread, lathering the wound in neosporin and covering it with liquid bandage. I ripped open the gauze packet.

“Y/N, I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I am. But, I’m not going to back away just because you’re back,” she said. I stopped what I was doing, head lifting to narrow my eyes at her. She nearly flinched at the cold look.

“Did I ask you to do that?” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not that much of a bitch.”

“I didn’t mean it like that I just… I know you still love him but he and I are together now,” she said.

I focused back on wrapping the gauze around my foot. “Do you love him?”

She opened her mouth, closing it not a second later. I heard her sigh, watched from my peripheral vision as she clasped her hands together.

“I… I care about him. Very much,” she said quietly.

“But do you love him?” I repeated, placing a small piece of tape on the gauze to keep it together, grabbing the wrap next. I looked up at her. “Do you love him, Jane?”

She bit her lip again, looking down at her lap before shaking her head.

I scoffed, unwinding the wrap. “Look, Jane. I love you. You’re the only person in the world that I truly know I love. I would do anything for you.”

“You have,” she interrupted.

“And I know that I’ve made mistakes in the past. But I would never- never- be with someone you were in love with after you were gone. Because even if you weren’t here, I would never be able to do that to you,” I said, finishing bandaging my foot. I put everything away in the kit, clasping it back up.

“And that’s what makes this so much worse,” she whispered, wiping a tear. “Because I know that you never would have done this to me. And I feel horrible. But I can’t give him up.”

“He doesn’t love me anymore, Jane,” I muttered. “It’s not like he’d let you go so easily.”

“What are you talking about? Of course he still loves you,” she said, shaking her head.

“No, he doesn’t. You should see the way he acts towards me, and if he was able to get over me so fast…”

“Get over you?” She asked. “He isn’t over you.”

“How can you say that?” I said.

“He still says your name,” she said quietly. “In his sleep. He’ll say how he misses you… how he loves you. It hurts but… I know that he can never love me like he did you. And it’s not fair to want that from him when I don’t love him back.”

“He doesn’t love me, Jane,” I said harshly. “He said he had feelings for you when we were together, and it took him a week to get over me.” I sighed, rubbing the base of my palm against the bridge of my nose. “I’ve never had great luck with guys. Dean… he’s the love of my life, but I knew he was going to move on. I urged him to. I just didn’t know I would be coming back to him and my sister, and I didn’t know it would hurt this much.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane whispered.

“I don’t think I’d be able to be… intimate with him anyway,” I murmured.

“Why not?” She asked.

I swallowed the bile in the back of my throat, closing my eyes. Memories replayed through my mind; memories that sent shivers down my spine and made my skin crawl. I turned my head away from her, biting my lip. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I heard her breath hitch in her throat as she put two and two together. “Y/N I’m-”

“Don’t. Please… don’t,” I said.

She sighed. “He’d understand something like that. That sorta thing isn’t everything to him.”

“Yeah but I wouldn’t be able to provide that and I don’t think he’s going to want to spend the rest of his life never having sex again,” I said. “Besides, he’s with you. I’m not going to have to worry about that anyway.”

“He loves you, Y/N,” she said. “You. Not me. He cares for me and I know that it sucks he started feeling something for me when the two of you were together but… it never grew into something like the two of you had. I’m telling you, I can tell. He talks about you in his sleep, but he avoids the topic of you when he’s awake. I can tell it hurts him too much to talk about. And he keeps a picture of you in his wallet and in the glove compartment in the Impala.”

“What?” I said, surprised. “He does?”

“I’ll catch him looking at it sometimes when he thinks I’m not looking. I’ll be in bed sometimes and I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone. But he’s in the library, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and your picture in the other,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Her hazel eyes locked on mine.

“Why are you apologizing? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. When someone has feelings as strong as he had for you, they don’t just go away.”

I stared at her for a moment, heart clenching in my chest at her words. I wasn’t sure if I should believe her. His actions had shown otherwise, but she never had given me any reason to not believe her.

“Why can’t you let him go?” I asked, looking away again.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think… I think because when you were gone, he was the closest thing I had to you. You two were so in sync and he loved you so much… I dunno. I guess it made me feel closer to you when you were gone.”

“Well I’m here now,” I said.

“You’re here now.” She smiled smally, swallowing thickly. “It’s my fault you were gone in the first place.”

I shook my head, brows furrowing as I took her hands in mine. “No, don’t say that.” I bent my head a little, meeting her downcasted eyes. They were watery, and her face was written with guilt. “I would rather spend a million lifetimes in hell than let you die.”

I hugged her, bringing her head to my shoulder like I did when she was young. She smelled the same, her hair cut to right above her shoulders like she always liked. She was more slender, but she was Jane.

“I missed you, big sis,” she whispered, squeezing me tighter.

“You have no idea, little duck,” I said. “No idea.”

***

I stayed in my room for the rest of the day. I was more tired than I had ever been in my life, but the mere thought of sleep made my chest tighten with fear. I was emotional after the talk with Jane. If what she said was true, I was torn. I couldn’t just sit back and watch the love of my life and my sister be together. I wanted to leave, I needed to leave, in order to keep my own sanity. But then again, it would hurt too much to leave the bunker. I wouldn’t get to see Dean anymore, even if I didn’t see him much anyway. And Jane wouldn’t be with me, and I couldn’t protect her.

A small voice in the back of my mind, one that sounded eerily close to the demon of my nightmare, told me they didn’t want me here. They hadn’t looked for a way to get me out of hell. Dean moved on all too quickly. And he and Jane were together.

Maybe they were sneaking around behind your back, the voice hissed. Maybe they just couldn’t wait until you were gone so they didn’t have to hide anymore.

I bit my lip, letting out an angry breath. Even separated by different worlds, Amel found a way to get to me.

I fell back onto my bed, groaning as a knock on my door echoed through the room.

“Come in,” I said without sitting up. The door creaked on its old hinges, a face poking into the room.

“Hey,” Sam said. “There’s a hunt not too far from here. I don’t know if you’d be up for it… probably not but I thought I’d offer just in case.”

I looked over at him. “Uhm… I dunno, Sam. I don’t know if I want to throw myself back into it quite yet. I’m out of practice. I’d slow you down.”

“You could just tag along,” he said. “You wouldn’t have to hunt if you didn’t want to. You could research, take notes. If you don’t want to be alone, that is.”

“Jane and Dean are going too?” I asked quietly. Sam swallowed.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it’s better if I stay here,” I muttered. Sam sighed.

“You can’t avoid the two of them forever,” he said.

“I’m not avoiding Jane. Just Dean,” I told him. He scoffed.

“Right. Look, I can stay if you want. Or one of them can. Hell, I could call Cas, see if he wants to head down here for a little while,” Sam offered.

“No, I don’t want to be a burden or hold anyone back. I’m a big girl, Sam. I’ll be okay,” I said.

He sighed again. “Okay. I’ll see you in a few days, Y/N.”

I nodded, looking back up at the ceiling as he closed the door, once again bathing me in the silent darkness of the room.

***

The bunker was eerily quiet without any other occupants.

It seemed as though every little thing made me jump, and I always felt as though I was being watched, when I knew that was impossible inside the bunker. I was jittery from the pot of coffee I had, needing something to fuel me enough to keep me from falling asleep.

Boredom soon overcame me, and I found myself roaming the bunker halls, turning down corridors I forgot about and relishing in the cool feel of my home again. I hated the fact that I might have to leave. But the sight of Jane and Dean would be too painful to see each day.

Selfish, the voice whispered. You’re sister is happy. Dean is happy. They’re happier without you. Stop moping and get out.

I bit my lip, taking a deep breath at the words. I felt as though I was doing a disservice by being alive. Everyone had been walking on eggshells since I got back, and Jane and Dean had been so awkward around each other and me, and I could tell that they weren’t anything like that before I showed up.

A clang echoed around me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun around, the sound coming from the front of the bunker. I glanced around, reaching into a room and pulling out the first hard thing I could find; which just so happened to be a broken lamp.

I rolled my eyes, holding it up like a bat before quietly making my way through the halls and into the front of the bunker.

Stopping before the entrance to the library, I peered my head around, eyes scanning the room. I sighed in relief at the sight of a familiar duffel bag on the table.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I jumped at the voice, lamp coming back up as a weapon. My eyes flashed to Dean’s, an amused look on his face.

“I… I heard a bang in here,” I said, lowering the lamp. “I came to check it out.”

“With a lamp?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. “Where the hell did you even get that?”

I shrugged. “I found it. That’s not the point.” I set the broken thing down, scrunching up my face. “Why are you back?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping onto his skin. “Well, uh… I got worried. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Why didn’t Sam come back? Or Jane?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Jane was the one who pushed me to come back, actually,” Dean answered. “Said we need to ‘reconnect’ or some shit.”

“Ah, I see,” I murmured. “Well, it was a waste of time. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Dean said. “I can tell.”

“Really?” I deadpanned.

“Yes, really,” he said exasperatedly. “In case you don’t know, I know you better than anyone.”

“Yeah, not anymore,” I said. He sighed.

“When was the last time you ate? You looked like you’ve lost weight.”

I shrugged again. “‘M not hungry.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

I hesitated. “I’m not tired.”

“Bullshit,” Dean growled. “I can see your dark circles and your eyes get all twitchy when you don’t get enough sleep. Why don’t you go sleep and I’ll go out a pick up food?”

He turned to leave, picking up his keys.

“No,” I said. “I’m not going to sleep.”

He stopped. “Why not?”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought of telling him. There was a time where I would tell him absolutely everything. And how I yearned to pour myself to him again, to watch his eyes bore into mine and his hand grasp mine in comfort. But I couldn’t. Not anymore. I couldn’t burden someone else with my constant thoughts, or share the nightmares I experienced on the daily, even when I wasn’t asleep.

His brows furrowed as he watched the wheels turn in my head, how my eyes went out of focus and shoulders slump. I snapped myself out of it and shook my head.

“Because I’m not, okay?” I said. “I’m not tired.”

He sighed, knowing damn well that was a lie. He shrugged, rubbing his forehead and dropping the keys back onto the table.

“Okay. Fine,” he grunted. He walked past me, bumping his shoulder harshly into mine, causing me to flinch. “Why even try.”

I closed my eyes as his footsteps progressively faded away.

***

It was midnight, and currently day three with no sleep. My body was drained, physically and emotionally, and I felt like I might collapse at any moment. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal since before hell, the banana the only thing I ate in three days. But honestly, the mere thought of food made my stomach roll.

I paced back and forth, not allowing myself to rest because I knew I’d fall asleep, and the absolute terror that came with that idea kept me from doing so.

I hadn’t seen Dean for the rest of the night after our encounter. But to be honest, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to see him. He always seemed angry with me, and I didn’t have the energy to be bothered with it.

I wasn’t sure what the appeal of being alive was anymore. I felt utterly alone, and with the memories constantly surging through my head, I felt as though I was living my own personal hell all over again.

***

“I will never get tired of this,” Amel said, patting my hip. I winced, biting my lip as a sear of pain flashed through my side.

The chains that held me up rattled as he yanked my head back by my hair, eliciting a yelp from my throat as he snarled at my ear.

“Beg.”

“No,” I said through my teeth. His forehead dropped to my blood crusted shoulder, a frustrated groan grumbling deep from his chest. He yanked my hair again, a squeal echoing off the walls before he let go, sending the blade that was in his hand flying across the room to clatter against the stained cobblestone.

“Why must you be so insolent?” He yelled, hand gripping my chin. “I have given you every opportunity. Beg. Let me be your master and I can train you into the perfect pet. Your pretty skin won’t be marred and I won’t be so angry.”

“Go to hell,” I seethed, conjuring up all the blood and saliva I could, spitting it into his eye.

He winced, lip curling into a ferocious snarl. He let go of me roughly, swiping an iron rod from the table beside him. Gripping the loose fitting tank top I wore, he pulled me close to him, chains groaning as he brought his arm back, ramming the rod through my abdomen with one, strong thrust of his arm, his hand curling around my throat as he did so.

I cried out, and it spurred him on. He laughed as he twisted the iron, blood coated teeth and feral eyes searing into my brain as he dug his nails into my neck.

***

I only realized I was crying when the pads of two thumbs swiped gently across my cheeks. I was sitting in the corner of the room, eyes staring blankly at the wall across from me as flashbacks danced in front of my eyes.

But a pair of green orbs came into focus, and I watched as he carefully unravelled my balled fists, bringing my palms up to his lips. He pressed soft kisses to each crescent shaped mark left on my skin from my nails, not caring if they were beginning to bleed or not. He eased away the pain with his lips, taking his time to softly brush against each one, barely putting any pressure.

He then kissed both of my wrists, where I once had ugly scars, scars that he, too, kissed under the moonlight and in the safety of our room. But that was simply a memory, one that was brushed away and erased much like the scars on my arms. And as Dean gently pulled my hand to rest against his cheek, it was those memories that flashed before my eyes, not the ones of hell. Memories of smiles and stolen kisses. Memories of soft caresses and long night talks.

Memories that were brushed away, too.

I couldn’t stop him when he leaned forward, his forehead resting against mine. I couldn’t stop him when his hands came up to cup my cheeks. And I couldn’t stop him when he pulled away for a moment, simply to aim a little lower, just enough to press his lips ever so softly against mine.

Suddenly I was wisped away, carried up into the sky by everything Dean. I was surrounded by him; his touch, his smell, his lips. My body reacted in a way of a relapsing addict, and I didn’t think twice before I wrapped my arms around his neck. The thought didn’t occur to me that he was no longer mine, that he was with my sister. No, all I could think of were the times before; before hell, before the deal, before I made a shit show of things and fucked it all up.

If only I had listened, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Jane wouldn’t have died, I wouldn’t have sold my soul and gone to hell, and he wouldn’t have gotten with my sister.

Or maybe he would, the voice said. He said it himself, he had feelings for her well before you bit the dust.

No, I thought. He couldn’t have. The mere thought of that sent me down a path of crippling pain.

But he did, he said. Why wouldn’t he? Jane is so much better than you. Anyone would be better than you.

What the hell was I doing? I was so wrapped up in my own fantasy of Dean, that I hadn’t thought to push him away. I was betraying Jane.

I pulled back, shoving his chest. He fell backwards onto his ass, confusion flashing onto his face.

“What the hell? What’s wrong?” He asked, his tongue running out over his swollen lips.

“What’s wrong?” I scoffed. “What’s wrong is that you’re with my sister now. Not only that, but you’ve acted like I was a parasite since I got back, and you blatantly admitted that you didn’t want me back. Now you come in here, wiping away my tears and-and kissing me?”

“I didn’t see you complaining,” he shot back.

I stood up, and he copied my actions. I didn’t look him in the eyes, but I stood tall, keeping my ground.

“Because I love you, you moron! Of course I wouldn’t fucking complain!” I yelled. “But you are dating my sister!”

I finally looked up at him, just to see him roll his eyes and run a hand through his hair.

“Jesus, you’re acting like a child!”

“I’m acting like a child?” I asked. “Oh, that’s rich, especially coming from you. Make up your damn mind, Dean. Because you’re the one who decided to go have feelings for my own sister while we were still together, and then began shacking up with her not a week after I died-”

“-Hey, you said that I should-”

“-And then proceeded to treat me like absolute shit ever since I got back, and then come in here and kiss me like everything is fine. So don’t tell me that I’m the one acting like a child, Dean Winchester. I have been the most mature out of all of us, because at least I’m not the one keeping shit from the others.”

“Oh really?” He said. “Then why the fuck aren’t you sleeping? Huh? Because you’re keeping that from me.”

“Because it’s none of your damn business!” I shot at him.

“Well it’s none of your business if I decided I want to fuck your sister!”

I took a step back, mouth gaping as my eyes grew wide. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, the echo of his outburst still bouncing around in my head.

I took a deep breath, snapping my mouth shut. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he snarled. He spun around, stalking towards the door. “Don’t think I don’t know what you probably did to get off the rack. I have no doubt in my mind that you were some demon’s whore. And knowing you, you probably fucking liked it. That’s why you’re so messed in the head now.”

I gasped, a tear trailing down my cheek at his words. It was pure venom shot at me; salt in an open wound.

“You have no idea what happened when I was in hell. But that is the farthest thing from the truth, Winchester, and you know it.”

He scoffed, a dark smirk on his face. “Yeah, real likely, princess.”

He gave me one more look before slamming the door behind him, leaving me to slump to the ground and curl up on the cool floor, because at this point, I was at a loss for words, completely and utterly drained.

***

The next three days were spent shrouded in the darkness of my room. It was one of the few with a bathroom, so there was no reason to risk bumping into Dean. He hadn’t tried to come and apologize the next day, nor did he try to talk to me at all. It was radio silent.

Sleep had tried to take me, but there were things I would do to keep it from doing so. I’d splash water on my face, pace back and forth. I’d do anything if it meant I didn’t have to relive hell.

I barely registered the bunker’s door loudly creaking as it opened and closed after a few days, two sets of footsteps echoing down the stairs, my sister’s cheerful voice ringing in my ears.

The mere sound caused tears to spring to my eyes.

When had things become so messy? Why couldn’t I have just left it? I could’ve left the bunker, like I originally wanted to. I could’ve walked the other way when I got topside, ignoring the past completely. Or I could have just stayed dead.

Or I could die now.

I would be lying if it wasn’t on my mind a lot. With the constant flashbacks and pain from hell and the emotional stress from within the bunker, the weight on my shoulders was too much to handle. It was difficult, and the fact I didn’t have anyone to talk to made it all the more difficult.

“You said what?!” A screech could be heard from down the hall. I jumped, sitting up and turning to face my door. I heard murmurs echo and travel to my room, loud stomps sounding until a fist pounded at my door. “Y/N! Open this door or so help me, I will knock it down.”

I swallowed, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to talk right now, Jane.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” She said through the door. I head her hush someone, before she jiggled the door knob. “Y/N, open the door.”

“I really don’t want to,” I said. “I’m tired.”

“You haven’t slept for almost a week, Y/N. Don’t deny it, either. Just open the door. I need to talk to you,” Jane told me. I sighed, licking my lips and shaking my head.

“Jane… please. I can’t do this right now,” I said. “Just… leave, okay? We’ll talk later. I can’t… I can’t right now.”

I heard her grumble, a thud sounding as she must have kicked the door. “Dammit, Y/N… fine.”

“I told you,” Dean said. I got up from my bed, walking towards the door to listen. “She hasn’t left her room in three days.”

“Did you at least check on her and make sure she wasn’t dead?” Jane hissed.

Dean was silent, and I heard her scoff. “Room. Now. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

I heard him clear his throat, and their footsteps retreated down the hall, a door slamming a few minutes after. I rested my forehead against the wood, taking another deep breath to try and calm my nerves. Dean must have told her what had happened, and I wasn’t ready for a yelling match with my sister. I knew she would be pissed at me, and I can’t imagine what Dean must have told her.

I unlocked the door, opening it and stepping out into the hall quietly.

“Jesus, I thought I’d need to take the door off.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at Sam’s voice, his shadow falling over me. He rested a hand on my shoulder and looked me over.

“You look terrible.”

“Wow, Sam. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” I deadpanned, looking up at him. He visibly winced at the sight of my dark circles and hollowed cheekbones.

“Jesus- Y/N, you’re killing yourself,” Sam said, brows furrowed in worry. “You need sleep. And food- something.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head, ignoring the dizziness that came with it. “I just need some water.”

“And calories and sleep,” Sam said. “I’m serious. I’m not going to sit idly by and watch you kill yourself.”

I heard a yell down the hall, and I shared a glance with Sam before taking off towards the sound of it, him hot on my heels.

“Have they been going at it since you guys got home?” I asked, stopping at room 11. Sam nodded.

“Pretty much. Dean told her what happened the other night and she flipped. She was freaking out about it, and marched to your room. She’s pretty pissed.”

“Great,” I said. “That’s all I need.”

“Huh?” Sam tilted his head. “What do you… Oh. Oh, no, Y/N… she’s not mad at you.”

“What? Why not?” I asked.

“Dean told her what happened. He told her he kissed you and told her what he said to you. He was feeling pretty guilty about the whole thing. I don’t think he anticipated this reaction from her. She’s pretty protective of you now, you know,” Sam said.

I shrugged. “She never was before. I think she just feels bad.”

“She’s your sister, Y/N. She’ll take care of you before him. She’ll put you first.”

“Heh, sure. Tell that to Jane seven years ago.”

Sam sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure what to say to that, because he had witnessed it first hand and knew I was right.

The door swung open, startling the two of us. Jane’s eyes locked on mine, and she rushed forward, throwing her arms around my neck.

“Dammit, Y/N. Look at you,” she muttered. She pulled back, looking at me. “Come on.”

“Where?” I asked, eyes flickering to Dean for a moment. He was looking anywhere but at me, and I bit my lip.

“I don’t know, somewhere where you can shower and then eat,” she said.

“Jane-”

“No, Y/N! I’m done watching you kill yourself,” she said harshly. “Now, let’s go.”

She took my hand, dragging me down the hall and to my room, leading me past my bed and into the bathroom. She pointed to the toilet seat.

“Sit.”

I obeyed, watching carefully as she started the bath. The silence scared me. She wasn’t letting on if she was angry at me, but the sour look on her face let me know that her mood wasn’t very pleasant. I waited for her to scold me, or to say anything, but she kept her mouth in a tight line, the running of the water the only sound in the room.

“Alright, come on,” she said, motioning to the tub. “In ‘ya get.”

I eyed her warily before undressing slowly, my limbs feeling like led after not being mobile for the last few days. I wasn’t entirely comfortable being naked in front of her. I wouldn’t have cared before, but I knew my bones were sticking out from under my skin and I knew how sickly I looked.

I lowered myself into the water slowly, allowing the warmth to seep into my skin. Jane took a wash cloth and gently began to clean my back, and I kept my eyes away from hers, not wanting to see her reaction.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” she murmured, dipping the cloth into the water. She brought it back up, swiping it over my shoulders.

“You didn’t,” I said truthfully. “I was just worried you were angry at me.”

Her hand faltered for a moment, and she hesitated. “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing you could do that would make me angry at you… except let yourself go like this.”

I closed my eyes. “Jane, please.”

“No. I lost you once, I won’t lose you again,” she said. She rinsed my back, grabbing the shampoo. “I can’t imagine what you went through, and I know things with Dean are difficult. But you’ve got to try. For me. I’m begging you.”

I didn’t respond as she carefully washed my hair. I was silent for the rest of the time. After my bath, she brushed out my hair and moisturized my face, and then flossed and brushed my teeth for me. She babied me, but I knew that I didn’t have the strength to get up and do it all on my own.

She allowed me to go back to my room if I ate something. I reluctantly agreed, my appetite still nonexistent, but choked down a sandwich for her sake. I knew she was trying, and I appreciated it. I just didn’t want it, and I did my best to swallow back the urge to throw it up.

“Sleep,” she said.

“I can’t,” I told her. “Really, I can’t.”

“Why not?” She asked. “Talk to me.”

I shook my head, and she sighed deeply. “I can’t help you unless you talk.”

I stayed silent, and turned away from her, bringing the covers up to my chin. I heard her mumble something under her breath, and her hand gently laid itself on my leg.

“I’ll come check on you later, okay?” She said. I didn’t respond, simply stared at the wall across from me. I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to eat. And I didn’t want to leave my bed.

I didn’t see the point in existing anymore.

***

“You exist purely for my pleasure.”

Fingertips ran down my face, smearing blood across the hollowed cheeks and over cracked lips. My eyes were glazed over, focused on nothing as I stared blankly at the wall.

The fifth hundredth year was approaching. I had given up hope on the Winchesters and Jane around the third century. I knew that the extent of their rescuing ways only reached so far.

Amel was persistent, not once letting me rest for a day. He would always come around, some sort of new torture thrown my way, if that was even possible. There were a few tactics he liked to recycle, but he didn’t want to “get bored.”

“I know you know that they aren’t coming for you. Surely you’ve given up on them?” Amel said, palm cupping my cheek. I ignored him, as I always did, and kept my eyes trained forward. His other hand ran down my torso, stopping at my pelvic bone, and I bit my tongue in disgust. “I did. I truly thought they would come for you at some point. But alas, they have disappointed me.”

He sighed, letting go of me, not missing the slight slump in relief I had. He turned away from me, heeled boots clacking along the cracked stone floors. His onyx painted nails scraped along the handles of the knives atop of the metal cart, and he let out a whine.

“What must we do today, pet? It seems we’ve used just about everything here at least twice,” he said, mostly to himself. He glanced over at me, leaning against the cart. “Hm?”

A knock rang through the room, and Amel grumbled to himself. Without breaking his gaze from my body, he motioned with his wrist, and the door creaked open. Astrid, whom I had gotten quite familiar with over the last century, sauntered in, her platinum hair tied up in an intricate braid.

“Crowley wants to speak with you,” she said. Amel groaned, picking up a small, curved knife. He twirled it between his fingers.

“Must I go? I’m busy,” he said, pouting. He was immature for a demon of such high ranks, and his black lined eyes and painted nails made him look like a teenage rebel, his leather pants and boots not helping his case much. He looked more like a pirate than a demon.

“He said it’s urgent,” Astrid said. Her eyes flickered to me briefly.

Amel sighed. “Fine.”

Before I could react, he had shot his wrist out, the small knife being shot through the air like a bullet. It lodged itself inside my windpipe, and I cried out, not much sound coming out. Blood soon filled my airways, and I began to choke and sputter. Astrid’s eyes widened, and a smirk crossed Amel’s face.

“She’ll be fine once I get back,” Amel said, waving his hand at me. My lungs burned for oxygen as they began to fill with blood, and black spots began to dot my vision as panic bubbled in my chest. “In case you’ve forgotten, she’s already dead.”

And with that, he left me alone, blood beginning to foam at my mouth as I desperately tried to suck air into my lungs.

***

Weeks flew by faster than expected, and with time, I grew weaker. I began to sleep a bit more, only a couple hours a night, and even then I would be awakened by fits of nightmares. It seemed as though I couldn’t catch a break, and I found it difficult to function by midday.

My relationship with Jane was still strained, but it finally began to repair itself around the third week. She eventually stopped helping me, and I didn’t mind. The old me would have, but not anymore. I was actually grateful. At this point, I was merely surviving, but if it turned out that I would stop doing so, I don’t think I’d mind.

I barely spoke two words to Dean within the four weeks of our last encounter. He hadn’t made any moves towards me and I hadn’t made any moves towards him. It was his turn to move a pawn, and I was simply staring at the clock.

I slowly but surely began to feel a little more numb, and whereas I usually wouldn’t like that, I welcomed it. This way, I wouldn’t have to feel the fear and pain I felt when I had a flashback. Instead, it was simply a dull ache.

Hunts were far and in between. I typically hunted on my own, taking the larger hunts out of carelessness, but also out of spite. It gave me more things to kill and get my anger out on. Jane didn’t like it, but she didn’t do anything to stop it, either. I slowly began fading away before their eyes, and they had given up on me.

Old me would’ve been pissed, but now I was thankful.

I didn’t want pity, and I didn’t want sympathy. I simply wanted to float; float down a path far away from the one I was on now. I didn’t see the point in living anymore. I was constantly exhausted, absolutely burned out. I was slowly but surely wasting away, and no one cared enough to notice

“Hey.” Dean’s voice sounded from behind me. I hadn’t realized he opened the door, too wrapped up in my own mind to notice. I ignored him, my throat too tight to speak and my mind too foggy to form words to reply. “I uh… I wanted to apologize.”

I rolled my eyes, setting my jaw. He was full of shit, and I knew it. I could hear it in his voice. I knew Jane must’ve set him up to it, I knew he wasn’t genuine. I just wanted him to leave me alone.

“I know what I said was shitty… and I’m sorry.”

I scoffed, staying rolled onto my side so I didn’t have to see his face. He hurt me. Jane hurt me. Even Sam hurt me for not saying anything. I felt utterly betrayed, and I didn’t know how I could possibly heal from Hell and this.

“Look-”

“Go away, Dean.” I cut him off, voice low but loud enough that he could hear me. I heard him shift uncomfortably.

“Y/N…”

“Just go!” I raised my voice then, grinding my teeth together.

“No, I won’t leave until you talk to me.”

I growled angrily, sitting up and spinning around. “I am fucking talking to you. And I believe I asked you to get out!”

“This is my home, I can go where I want,” he said. “I don’t have to leave.”

“So what, this isn’t my home anymore?” I asked. He swallowed.

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Yes you did. I bet Jane put you up to this, you dick. For your information, if you died, I never would get with Sam. Ever. And it really fucking hurts that it took you a fucking week to get over me. It really stings, Dean. I don’t care what you say, I know that you didn’t love me.”

“I did,” he said.

“... Did? So you admit it? You don’t love me anymore?” I asked, voice lowering again. He sighed, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“Can I be honest?” He asked. I nodded. “No.”

“When?” I whispered. “When did you stop?”

He looked away. “About three months before you died.”

I stifled a gasp, a choked sound seeping from my throat. It felt as though a dagger had been shot through my heart, twisted deep inside my chest until blood flowed through the wound and the life drained from me slowly. It was heart wrenching, the pain in my chest almost too much to bare.

“Are you serious?” I rasped, tears flooding my eyes. I bit my lip, willing them to stay where they were, not wanting to allow myself to show weakness in front of Dean.

“Yes,” he whispered. I took in a shaky breath, squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m so sorry.”

“No… you’re not,” I said, shaking my head. “You never are. I should have known… it was too good to be true, you know?” He looked at me then, and I shrugged, a tear finally slipping down my cheek, another following… and another… and another. “I never had a boyfriend in highschool. Even when I lived with Bobby for three years and went to the same highschool… no one was ever interested. The two years of college I had, no one wanted me then, either. I met guys, all who would look right through me and to Jane. It was always her.” I sighed, swallowing the growing lump in my throat. “She was dad’s favorite. She was the one people picked over me. I was always the forgotten Y/L/N. I was always picked last, always the second or third or fourth choice. And when I met you, dammit I tried so hard not to fall for you because I knew- I knew- it would end with me having a broken heart. Because I never thought that Dean Winchester would like me back. If no one else ever had, how would Dean Winchester like me? But then you showed me affection, you showed me love. You made me feel better, as if I actually mattered. For the first time in my life, I felt as though I was someone’s number one, that I wasn’t in the backround and that I was actually fucking lovable.”

“Y/N…” Dean shook his head, face scrunched up as if he was in pain.

“I gave you my heart, Dean. I gave you everything. You were my first everything, and I let you have it all. Because I loved you. I still love you, so much that it hurts. Fuck, it hurts. Because I know that you don’t love me anymore. That you don’t fucking care.”

“Of course I care,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside me.

“I know now that I am not good enough… I-I know that, and I know that I will never be good enough… but I sure as hell try, okay? I really thought I had it. I thought I finally found someone who found it in themselves to love me. But again, just like everyone else, you chose Jane.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeves, sniffing. “Amel used it against me in hell.”

“Amel?” Dean asked.

“He was a demon… a high ranking demon, who took a liking to me. He used my love towards you as an advantage. He tried to twist it, tried to make me think you didn’t care, but I couldn’t think that way. The thought of you was what got me through. He’d always say, ‘No one will ever love you. They’ll eventually realize they don’t need you, and they’ll let you go. Just like they always do. Like Jane, like dad, like Dean. If they cared, they’d find a way to get you out.’ I always ignored him, or at least tried to, but now I realized he was right.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dean murmured.

“I really don’t want to hear it, Dean. Please just leave me alone,” I whispered. He took a deep breath, hesitating, before getting up to leave.

I jumped up from the bed, rushing to the door to lock it, ignoring the wave of dizziness I got when I moved so quickly. Turning around, I walked to my dresser, opening the top one and digging around inside for the one thing that I hid in there. I didn’t use it the whole time I was with Dean, but I had the urge; the craving for relief. To feel something.

To stop feeling everything.

My fingers curled around the handle, and I pulled out the small knife that Bobby had given me for my eighteenth birthday. It was the thing I used years ago to make the scars on my arms that had vanished when I got topside, and it would be the thing that would put scars on my arms that I would never see.

I sat down against the foot of my bed, running the blade up and down the clean skin of my forearm and wrist. I couldn’t handle the flashbacks, or nightmares, or the constant feeling that I wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t handle watching the man I loved so deeply not care for me. I couldn’t handle my own sister pull herself away from me once again because she, too, didn’t care. I couldn’t handle it.

Swallowing down the fear, I pressed the blade down onto my skin, dragging it down towards the inside of my elbow until blood seeped from my arm. The cut was long, and as the blood steadily flowed, I knew there was no turning back, no saving me. But at this point, I didn’t care. I welcomed the fact that I would no longer be in pain. I switched the knife to my other hand, and dragged it down my other arm, wincing at the sting, but welcoming it.

I didn’t know where I would end up. I didn’t know if I would go upstairs or downstairs, I simply just faded; faded like the scars on my arms and the memories of a time before now, a time where I was happier and my head wasn’t as dark. I whispered my final goodbyes to my sister and the man I loved, two people who I never thought would turn their backs on me.

The knife slipped from my hand, and when my vision blurred and body began to weigh down, I knew it was only a matter of time. I knew I was going to die, and I knew that there would be no turning back or rescue missions, no deals. And with my last breath, using all the strength I could muster, I whispered my final words to a world that was so cruel to me, to the man who broke my heart.

“I love you, Dean Winchester… Always have.”

And as if a memory resurfaced, as though God wanted to grant me one last wish, I felt the brush of lips at my ear and the arms I loved surrounding me, and I could’ve sworn I heard the words that I had been wanting to hear ever since I got back from hell, words that sent me off into an endless slumber and that made the tiniest of smiles appear on my lips as I faded from the Earth.

“Always will.”

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