#i couldn't decide between trans dean and cis deanna for AGES but i've had girl!dean on the brain recently sorry

[liamgallaghermpreg]

jeremiah 8:20

– for @wincestwednesdays prompt: blood

Deanna’s never been the best at keeping track of her period, though in her defense her cycle has never exactly been regular. There’s always something – constantly swapping between fake insurances, going on and off the pill. A poor diet. Stress. Etcetera.

But in Detroit, she knows it’s been too long. A couple months, maybe three. She can’t remember. Can’t remember the last time she’d woken up with stains in her panties or the last time Sam had looked up from between her legs to say uh, I think it’s time to stock up on tampons, Dee. Everything in the past couple months has run together between God and the Devil and the angels who want to kill them and keep them alive and she just can’t remember jack shit.

She can’t even remember when this might have happened. Her and Sammy haven’t screwed much since she'd died and come back again, but clearly their sex life hasn’t suffered enough for them to not have fucked raw at least once these past few months.

She doesn’t bother to tell anybody. Bobby, Cas – they have enough on their plates, and Deanna’s just told her little brother to go ahead and offer himself up to Satan. Sorry, Dad. Couldn’t keep Sammy safe. Couldn’t keep him from knocking me up, either.

Deanna can’t have a baby, no matter how many secret domestic fantasies she harbors. Holding it, rocking it to sleep and passing out in a handmade chair. Sammy coming to find her and lifting the baby from her arms and putting it in the crib all gentle. Going days on not even her requisite 4 hours of beauty sleep. In another life, maybe. She can’t have a baby and she especially can’t have a baby with Sam, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

“Did you know?” Deanna asks Cas, driving away from Lawrence all those hours later. Maybe days later. It’s all run together; she’s doing 80 in a 55 easy, and the trees that line the highway pass as nothing more than brown-grey-green blurs.

“Did I know what?” Castiel asks. He won’t look at her and well, that’s just fine. Her eyes are on the road and her grip on the wheel is so tight that she can feel all the folds and impressions in the leather making divots on her palm. She’s not looking at anybody.

“Don’t play dumb, Cas. That ain’t you.”

Castiel sighs, and then he’s so silent that she thinks maybe he’s gone, the bastard. Never was very good at goodbyes.

“It wasn’t a choice.”

“Huh?”

“When I healed you,” Castiel says. His breathing is even; if he had a heartbeat Deanna is sure it would be steady. She feels like her whole esophagus is going to be ripped out from her throat any second, can feel a wave threatening to crash behind her eyelids, and here he is with his even cadence and his abiding faith in God. “When I healed you, it – I healed everything. I didn’t get to pick and choose.”

“Right,” she says. The mile markers and exit signs pass too fast for her to read them. “Right, I knew that.”

Castiel's voice sounds so gentle when he says: “Lucifer had beat you nearly to death. It was already dead, Deanna.” She hates it.

And aren't these things supposed to end in blood, anyway? Shouldn’t she have had this one last thing, one last moment of watching a part of her brother bleed from her, one last bit of Sam to have and to hold and to lose? Shouldn’t she have felt that singular pain, sharp in her gut, heavy in her cunt? Shouldn't she have bled for all those months she went without? It shouldn't have ended in nothing but a touch to the forehead. Everything she’s ever had, all taken away by God; fucking God and the Devil and all the angels who want to keep her alive. She’s not sure there are any left who want her dead, and maybe she wishes there were.

“Well, that’s just bullshit,” she says. Castiel doesn’t point out how thick her voice sounds. He doesn’t point out how it cracks over the sharp punch of the shit. With a flutter of wings, he’s gone. It doesn’t matter. She can’t have a baby, and she especially can’t have a baby with Sam. She’ll go live this apple pie life because that’s what Sammy wanted, and she’ll do it with somebody else’s kid.