Damp. Everything that surrounds you is damp. As you start to come to, you smell the stench. Sulfar. Confused, you try to open your eyes, brows furred as the light tries to chase away your sight. Your adrenaline pushes you to figure out where you are. Looking around weerily, you notice the familiar iron door. Your parents old farmhouse storm cellar. Opening and closing your eyes making sure this is what you're actually seeing. It's been years. Decades even since you've seen these walls. Theyre different now. Moldy, but with cobwebs. You start to realize you're strapped down on the old iron table you used to eat spaghettios on when the tornados hit. No use in trying to squirm your way to topple over. Your father bolted it down in the cement. How did you get here. As you push and strain yourself to remember, the door opens. A tall red flannel emerges, and you go cold...
Life wasn't always fighting monsters, and saving people. You had a family of your own, until the vampire mafia ripped in to town destroying everything in their path, including your home and everyone in it. You still remember their screams as you fled into the woods. Revenge is a choice you have to make, and it sure was a hell of a ride. In this life, you run into auhtorities, but very little hunters like yourself. After bumping into the Winchesters working a werewolf case, they sort of took you under their wing. Noticing you needed guidance, before you ever could. You were in constant rage, before meeting the boys. Searching for answers, and never being satisfied with the kill. It all blurred into a blood bath of vengence. A lot of trust, losses, and whiskey, but you found a new family. You need them as much as they need you. And just recently, it was Dean needing saving.
The mark had completely consumed him. Being the hero, the guinea pig, has led him to be desperate in saving the world. You knew he was always staying strong, putting on a good face for Sam, but deep down, he is slightly broken like the rest of you. His hope depleted as the mark's strength took over his judgement. He was like you were before they saved you, scared and fuming with anger. You're just trying to return the favor before he hurts anyone else, especially his brother Sam.
After months of research, you found something. Slight chance of hope in fixing Dean. Confiding in Sam, he decides to look for it himself. The word of God. Once touched by a demon, it is said to purify them. No one has seen it in over 100 years, but you got a lead. The only thing that's near impossible is finding Dean. So time to draw him out... He wants a fight, you'll bring him a fight.
Scrounging up as many demons as possible, making sure they're alive but bleeding, you make a devils trap and wait. You heard through demon grapevine, that Dean can sniff them out. He's the big bad now. Being a demon himself, he hates them even more, if that makes sense.
But your plan didn't work. There have been plenty of close calls while working on the job, but this wasn't just a regular monster case. It was so much more, and there's a lot at stake. You realize why you're scared. You're in a situation even you can't get out of alive. Fear sets in as Dean walks closer. Each step like a predator closing in on it's prey. That red shirt, being even more red than usual.
He smirks, “Welcome back sunshine. Thought I killed you too soon”.
Your head is pounding as you try to look at your body. Realizing its broken, bruised, and bloodied, you must have put up a fight.
“Oh that, sorry, I couldn't help myself. After I knocked you out, I had some fun.” Your heart is beating so fast as if it is going to jump out of your body. The last thing you want is for him to see you afraid. You try to muffle out his name, but your voice is hoarse. “Please don't speak, I don't want my ears to bleed as you plead with me.... or on the other hand, I'd love to hear you beg for your life”, he whispers the last part in your face.
Wincing at his words, you turn your head, and say “You're not you right now. We'll fix this, Dean.”
He puts his hands on your chin, for a second you think it's him. His oversized, warm strong hands that wouldn't hurt a fly unless it was unnatural.The ones who taught you martial arts, and the ever so famous air guitar. But looking into his eyes, noticing they are lacking the softness, they flicker, and those green eyes are no longer. Black eyes, and his hands smell of sulfar. “There's nothing to fix sweetheart, I'm better than ever.” he jerks his hand away making your head turn to face him. As he walks to the door to open it, you yell out, “Just get it over with and kill me already!” He stops, turns his head just so you can see his profile, and scoffs. Walking out, and leaving you alone once again.
Wondering where Sam is, you try to squirm free from being tied up.Your fastens on your wrist have some wiggle room. Using the pointiness of your sister's ruby class ring on your left hand, you try to cut the leather bands. It's going to take hours, but you're not giving up yet. You know there are only two ways out of this, and you'll be damed if you don't fight.
'Pour some sugar on me' plays from your cell phone. Sam's calling you, the signature ringtone for drunk, fun Sam. Reminding you of the nights at the roadhouse, playing the same G43 on the old jukebox driving Dean insane. While Sammy and you sang until your voices were unrecognizable.
The door opens, and you straighten up, not making a move to let Dean know you've been trying to break free. There's a cart that he's pushing inside, full of old kitchen utensils, some tools from a shed, and a few of Dean's things from the trunk of his Impala that have been missing since the mark took him over.
“I know you and Sam have been looking for me, trying to save me. I'm going to show you how much I don't want or need you two around. Lets send Sammy a message, hm?” He walks over to your jacket with your cellphone in it. Dean throws it in the air and catches it. Holding it like a gun, making fake noises pretending to shoot you. “Glad to see you havent lost your adolescent behavior”, you say, “I know you're still in there Dean”.
He puts your phone down on the cart, picking up a rusty knife used for cutting fish. “But I'm not, and I'm going to prove to you just how wrong you are about me.” He cuts your cheek, and you feel the skin break open, stinging.
“You can hurt me all you want, you'll just be hurting yourself.” You say and spit in his face. The dark smirk scurries from his face, and you know what's coming next is worst.
The torture that he tortured you with only stems from Hell. Picture after picture taken and sent to Sam. The laughing, the darkness, and the insults coming from him, you start to lose hope that Dean is even in there. You keep reminding yourself that demons lie. Not believing anything DemonDean says, even though you desperately want it to be true. The remarks about how he used to think about you like a little sister until a couple years ago when you got stood up on a date with some guy named Brett. Thinking back from a different perspective now, you realize Dean was the one there who saved you from getting kicked out of the restaurant for using up a table. Waiting for some loser you met online, but seeing Dean sitting down across from you, feeling a sense of clarity and sureness. But now ever since he's turned into something evil, he doesn't feel a thing at all for you or Sam.
In and out of consiousness, you decide you wouldn't give up on him. Even though your body is mangled, you keep pushing.
“Dean, this isn't the path your mother would have wanted. You have to know that. You don't want to let her down or she'd died for nothing.” You plead and try, but he slaps you hard in the face. The hit seemed personal, as if you were getting somewhere with him. You reason, “Isn't family what brings people together, it's what brought us together. Aren't we family, you could let me go, and Sam and I can help you see the light again. Just like your mom used to say right? The light will guide you home. Come home Dean!” Another blow to your head. He knocks you out again.
As you come to, Dean is reaching for the blade. He's actually going to use it on you, kill you. Coming to terms with your fate, you start to hum and mumble 'simple man by lynryd skynrd'. It was always your favorite. It was everyones favorite. You figured it was a good enough song to go out to. You peek open your eyes as much as you can. Throbbing and seeping blood, you're finally able to see Dean stop and stare at you. He drops the blade, looking down at the mark and then back at you. His face twisted, unsure of what is reality. You don't stop singing. Second verse, he's closer now. A single tear rolling down your face; knowing if he ever came back, got the mark off, he wouldn't forgive himself. Even when he's unable to save someone on a job, he's hard on himself. You can't imagine what he'll feel like, so you pity him.
He's closer now, hands around your throat. He's trying to fight you and himself. The pain and anger in his eyes turns black, then normal again. You look him straight in those familiar faint green eyes, and say your final words, “I forgive you.” The world goes dark.
Heaven was always described as 'your own personal paradise'. You're wondering why yours is in a hospital. White walls and curtains. The coldness in your nose suprises you. Who knew paradise would be so cold, gray, and foggy. Nothing was easy to make out, but you could definitely tell it was a hospital. You hate hospitals, confused as to why you're heaven isn't what you expected, you look around to see if there is a recognizable face. Hoping for maybe your Dad, Mom, or sister.
No one. There's a loud beeping noise and you look up to see a monitor. Looks like the vitals of a dead man. You start to wonder maybe God put you in the wrong paradise. So you pray. But words don't come out, and you drift back into the dark.
Blinking once, then twice, then several times. The light is bright. You can tell it's daytime. Still the same Heaven as before, but this time you feel everything. The pain, the tenderness. You remember, and know that you're not dead. Relieved, but still uncertain, you try to move. Expecting straps to hold you back, your right arm goes flying in the air. Not used to being free. You look down at your body. It's bandaged and braced. A mountain of a man peeks through the curtains. You have instant relief when you recognize Sam. He has the 'poor puppy eyes' look, and you put your hand on his. He grips it tight, but gentle enough. The gentle giant. Trying to let out a smile, a shadow lurks behind Sam. Instant fear as you realize it's Dean. Panic sets in, and your body cannot handle it. The monitors go off, you see Sam try to calm you down, and Dean sneaking away, head down, disgraced with himself. Nurses rush in with the Doctor to make sure you're okay. Tears well up in your eyes. You somehow cannot forget what Dean has done to you.
Weeks in the hospital, the only visitor you had was Sam. Trying to keep your spirits up, he shows you all of his research following up on possible cases. Between playing cards, reading books, and making fun of the new Taylor Swift song, you ask Sam, “How is he?”, and each answer is the same. “No better, no worse,” Sam replies. After the panic attack, Dean thought it best if he didn't show his face anymore to you. Once healed, you were allowed to go home as long as you didn't saw off the leg brace, and practice using the crutches. Knowing how stubborn you are, Sam rolled his eyes, and promised to watch over you.
Happy to finally break out, you laugh as you fumble with the crutches. Sam lets out a worrisome smile. “I'm fine Sam. Really.” You look up to him and give him a carefree toothy grin. Throwing all of your things into the impala, because Sam refused to drive “that stupid pink truck”, you beg Sam to let you pick the music.
Pulling up to the bunker, your stomach sinks a little. You know you'll have to face Dean eventually. Fogiving is easy for you, but forgetting is a whole other learning curve. Never being the one to admit you're wrong first, or facing real problems, you know it's somehting that needs to be worked on. Staring off into the distance a bit, Sam pulls you out of it as he opens the door. “We're stocked up on all your favorite foods, drinks, and even have Netflix!” He says, nudging you arm and attempting a playful laugh.
Weeks of healing, you finally are able to get up into your truck. You need some air, and desperately needed to get away. The outside world was calling your name, so were the pink wheels on that old ford. First hours, days, then weeks went by, and not a single glance from Dean. No words, no contact. Ignored you completely. Anytime you tried to reach him, asking to grab a drink at the dirty bird bar, to researching a simple ghost job, he pushed you away. You spent so much time in your room with your thoughts. Trying not to think about the event that almost ended you, and most importantly the relationship with Dean. Even Sammy has started treating you differently like you're broken. After Sam telling you to stay home again, while they hunt monsters, you'd had enough. Weekend getaway to a cabin in the woods. You leave your phone on your nighstand and decide you need some peace to clear your mind.
“Fill her up,” you say shutting off your truck to get gas. Getting out to grab snacks from inside, a long lost friend appears. Not able to look away from the light, he shields your eyes for you. You forgot how enchanthing the bright white was. “Cas what are you doing here?” You ask as you looks at you stearnly.
“I was told to keep a tab on you, and you left the bunker. So I'm here to bring you back.” He says reaching for your arm.
“Under who's orders?!” You demand. Not letting him answer you back away and say, “The boys? Really can't even get some fresh air!” Clearly angry, you hit your tailgate. Cas immediatley lays his hands on you to heal you. Being an angel has it's perks. But you wanted to feel something, Cas didn't exactly understand what being human was really like.
Brushing his hand away, you try to reason with him. “Go back to the bunker, grab my phone, and bring it to me. That way I have it on me in case I need anything. I'm still going on my very needed trip. What I don't need is a babysitter” Before you could blink twice, Cas had your phone in hand. “Do not turn this off and always keep this on you.” Rolling your eyes you respond sarcastically, “Thanks Dad. Can I leave now?” Clearly unsure of his decision, Cas side eyes you, but finally nods, and leaves you to your road trip snacking.
The cabin is the same as you left it two summers ago. A couple empty beers scattered, but the rest of the place in neat tidy order. Your mom always liked everything in a specific spot, and you try your best to remember that while staying there. Picking up the bottles to recycle them, you smile and remember the good times spent here with your family, both families. Thinking about the boys, you let out a sigh of relief. Thanking the angels that Sam showed up when he did in the storm cellar that day. The word of God being forcefully put in Dean's hands, purifying him instantly. A bright gold light shining through the brick like object, blasting Dean into Sam. His brother holding onto Dean as he comes to and realizes, he's saved. Sam's words will stay with you forever, that story will stay with you forever. You smile as you remember, you were the one who stalled Dean as Sam had come to the rescue.
“Oh shit!” You say as your line tugs and gets stronger. You were too busy admiring the cotton candy sunset to see your fishing line got a bite. It was a warm afternoon, but turning brisk fast. Fall was settling in, you could tell as the wing picked up every now and then. The trees leaves turning the auburn colors. Setting your beer down, you reel it in, but your bait is completely gone.
“You never were good at fishing.” You quickly stand from a lousy folded plastic chair, and turn around to find Dean, smiling at your loss. Clearly shocked, you ask “What are you doing here? Cas told you didn't he. Lousy friend.”
You put your pole down, and open the cooler to offer Dean a beer. He takes it and slowly sits down on the edge of the dock, feet dangling. You sit down next to him, opening your own beer. “Where's Sam?” you ask.
“Working the case still.” He notices your cocked eyebrow from a side glance. As if he would ever leave Sammy alone, he continues, “It's easy, just some pyscho vengeful ghost.” He sips his beer, straring at the now setting sun.
Getting straight to it, you ask, “Why are you here Dean?” Staring at him, you notice the weariness.
He lowers his head, gripping his beer tight. You see his shoulders move up and down slowly. Sighing heavily, he looks at you, completely looks at you for the first time. It catches your breath, because you have never seen a man so broken, Dean so vulnerable. You can tell he's been fighting with himself, beating himself up over the events that took place. Defeated, face full of hatred for himself, he doesn't say a word. You see his jaw tighten, his temples twitching. Reaching for his shoulder to show trust, but he pulls away shaking his head. “I don't trust myself with you” He musters, as he stands up to walk toward the cabin. Thinking about chasing after him, forcing him to talk, but you can't move. Like cement, you stay planted in your spot. The sun finally sets, but you still sit there, listening to the sound of the frogs.
Grabbing your things from the dock, you head inside. What could you say to make him believe you. Would you believe yourself if you said, “Everything is okay.”? Is it? Inside, you notice Dean is cleaning up what seems to be like the bathroom mirror. Understanding what just happened, you bend down to help and he stops you. Gripping your hands tight, he says “No. You don't need to clean up my mess. Any of my messes.” With a dustpan, he walks to the trash to dump the shards of glass.
“What's that suppose to mean? Am I not allowed to care? To try to save you from yourself?” He winces at the last part.
Turning around to face you, but leaning against the kitchen counter, he looks at you cold and promises, “You will never have to save me again. I will never hurt you or anyone else again.” He looks down and then back up into your eyes, moving towards the door, “You wanna know why I'm here? I came here to say goodbye.”
Stopping him dead in his tracks, you look up at him wondering how you and Sam could even survive without Dean. You start to cry. It's not like you to let anything out, but you stand there, tears pouring out of your face. “No.” was all you could muster up. Very stearn, you said it again, “No.” He grabs you and pulls you in close. Hanging on to eachother, as if it's the last time.
You both stay like this awhile, not realizing it's way over due. “You're not leaving us. We won't let you.” you say confidently, and at this he lets go. He tenses again, trying to be strong, and insists “You and Sammy have to let me go. I've been nothing but trouble. I'm bad. I'm not worth your lives.” Clearly needing reassurance, but not knowing how, you yell, “I went through all of that for nothing?!” Talking with your hands like usual, brows furious now, you continue, “After everything, you still think you're not worth it? Sam and I have done everything for you, for us, for this family.”
He turns his back on you holding back tears, but instead letting out his frustration, “You don't what it's like to need constant saving. I need control of myself, I don't have control.” He yells as he punches the wall. It startles you.
“Oh, I don't know what it's like?” you start, “You don't think that I was ever at a low in my life. What losing my family did to me, the things I did in return. It wasn't until you and your brother, that I finally found solace!” you scoff, “Please you're not the only broken one around here.” Realizing that anger isn't the route to go down, you quietly move toward him. Pushing back the fear that has been dormant, you hold his hand. “We are family.” you say softly. “Family doesnt end in blood.” You wipe away the blood trickling from his knuckle with your shirt.
His hands are shaking now, as he holds them up inching closer to your neck. You flinch, and he tries to pull away. You immediatley grab his hands, and put them to your cheeks, making his squish them together a little. Tears welling up in your eyes, you let out a low, “i'm a little guppy...” It was something you two always did to cheer eachother up. Getting the other to laugh when you're both at a low point has been almost like a game. So far, he's beeing in the lead. Before you can finish, his lips are on yours. Waves of heat roll from your head to your toes, your wet cheeks brushing his scruff, and you give in, even being scared and uncertain. Dean pulls away, looks at you stearn, and says “I'm going to miss you.”
You're still standing not sure of what just happened, and you hear the door slam shut. It seemed as though your feet wouldn't move, but then you finally took a deep breath, turned around and bolted out the door. He was getting in the impala, but before he could jet off, you opened that door and ripped him out. Standing toe to toe, you slap him. That bottled rage unleashes. Then you connect your fist to his face. Unprepared, Dean fell against the car. Shocked at how hard you hit, he starts to realize you're not going to stop, so he holds your hands down. Red in the face from anger, and him red because well there's now blood pouring from his nose, you finally relax so he loosens his rains on you.
“What was that?!” You ask. “Who do you think you are? That is not okay. I am not okay.” Turning around, hands on your hips, shaking your head. Instantly defensive, you gasp, turn to face him, and make sure he knows, “I am not like every other girl. I don't deserve to be treated like any other girl.” He opens his mouth to say something, but you immediatley talk over him, “You're going to have to kill me.” Dean looks at you clearly confused. “Why do I have to kill you?”
Walking back and forth now, you respond, “Over my dead body...You're not walking out on us. Not Sammy, not me. Not our future. People need us, they need you.” Stopping, and turning to face Dean, you say, “I need you. And if you get in that impala, you better have shot me first because I won't stop looking for you.” Walking toward him now, pointing your finger in his chest, you end with “I refuse to give up on you.” At that, he looks down at you, smirks, and responds, “You're stubborn, you know that?” You break a smile, and say “I learned from the best.” Throwing you over his shoulder, he walks into the cabin.
Completely surprised as to what took place last night, you turn around and look at Dean's green eyes. Understanding now, the feelings that were dormant for so long. Realizing now that DemonDean only told the truth to hurt you.You put your hand to his face, brushing his cheek with the back of your finger, and he closes his eyes to just feel your touch. “You're not allowed to leave.” He nods, reaches for your hand with his, and lightly kisses your fingers. “I will never forgive myself...” He says, and you respond instantly, with your pointer finger shooshing his lips, “I forgive you, and will continue to remind you that you're the good guy.” Closing your eyes, thinking about the first time meeting these boys, not knowing how they would change your life for the better, you smile. He rolls you over with ease, and tucks you in close to his warm naked chest. Deep, and grunting, he says your name into your hair. You lift your head a little to let him know you're listening, “hm?” “I don't deserve this” he says, “I don't deserve you.” You respond while picking his hand up moving it closer to your chest, “Neither do I.”
Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.
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