A/N: Part Nine! Finally! I just want to say that the writing for this part, I personally feel, isn’t as good as the previous parts. That’s due to my job being VERY demanding lately, and I’m just really trying to write and post as quickly as I can. But I do hope you enjoy it and want a part ten! So let me know!
PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 6 - PART 7 - PART 8
Crowley dragged out a chair slowly. Before he spoke, he poured himself a glass of whiskey.
“This is cheap.” He said after taking a sip. Dean rolled his eyes and snatched the bottle from him.
“Well, we never offered it.” He said. Sam cleared his throat and looked up at Crowley. You took the seat next to him. Dean stood behind you, his hands gripping the back of your seat.
“You see,” Crowley began from the other end of the table, “I heard, that you have a bit of a dilemma.” He looked at you.
You leaned back in your seat. “Me?”
“Something’s missing, up in that mind of yours.” Crowley tapped his finger against his temple.
“Nothing’s wrong with her. Why are you here?” You felt Dean lean his weight onto your chair as he spoke.
“Don’t try hiding her. We all know-”
“Demons, angels, everyone.” Crowley shrugged leisurely. Dean looked at Sam who’s eyes were just as confused.
“Anyone who makes Dean Winchester *that* happy – gets on a list.” Crowley said. Your cheeks burned crimson.
“Tell me what the hell you want or I’m going to send your ass back to-” Dean began to shout.
“No need to get aggressive.” Crowley cut him off. “I’m just here to warn you.”
Sam stood up and crossed his arms. “About?”
Crowley clasped his hands together over the table. You watched his eyes land on Sam, then Dean, then you.
“Assuming that when the time comes, you’ll remember this favor that I’ve done for you-” Crowley said and Dean squinted his eyes at him. “-I’ll tell you that some powerful demons are after gorgeous girl, here.” He pointed towards you.
“How do we know you’re not lying?” You asked.
“Darling, I’m doing you a favor. Don’t think I came all this way to lie.” Crowley sighed and snapped his fingers. He disappeared right before your eyes.
As if you’ve done it before, you gripped Dean’s sleeve and waited for him to say something. Anything.
Instead, he turned and walked out from the library. His footsteps echoed down the halls as he walked.
“We’ll figure this out.” Sam gripped your shoulder. “Just get some rest for now.”
You nodded and continued to stare straight ahead.
“Sam?” You asked before his footsteps faded.
He walked back towards you.
“I don’t know. It’s probably just Crowley’s way of saying that you’re in someone’s view now.” Sam explained. You nodded and stood up, following him back towards the bedrooms.
From the bed, you stared at the walls of the bedroom you grew to call your own. They were painfully bare. Your eyes fell upon the duffel bag that lay untouched since you first woke up without your memories. Sam and Dean never commented on the fact that you just re-washed the same outfit over and over again. Or stole t-shirts from their laundry bins.
Some part of you didn’t want to open it. Perhaps bad memories were stored in there, amongst the clothing and weapons; but these plain walls needed a decoration. So slowly you stood up and crouched down onto the floor, and began to spill out the contents of the bag.
First, an abundance of shirts fell onto the floor, followed by multiple pairs of jeans and socks. With a thump, a wallet hit the floor. You opened it up to find a couple ten dollar bills and a credit card with a name that wasn’t yours.
“Alexis Rhea?” You flipped it over in your hands before placing it back into it’s slot. You pulled out your license. Your hair was much longer in the picture. It must’ve been several years old. Underneath the license, a photo was pressed against the wallet’s leather. You pulled it out carefully; its’ edges were frayed.
A young girl with bright eyes stared back at you. She had messy hair and pink cheeks. Turning it over, it read your name across the back in a handwriting you couldn’t recognize. Quickly, you stood up and began to search your desk for any tape. You ripped off a piece and taped the photo to the wall, right above your nightstand.
“Y/N?” Dean knocked on your door.
“Come in.” You placed the tape roll back into the drawer.
His eyes immediately landed on the photo.
“What’s that?” He walked over and bent down, staring at the photo. “Is that you?”
“I found it in my wallet.” You sat on the bed.
He smiled. “You were adorable.”
“What?” He stood up straight.
“I am adorable.” You corrected him with a wide smile.
“Can’t argue with that.” He sat down next to you.
“So what’s up?” You asked, turning so you could sit pretzel-legged.
Dean pursed his lips before saying, “I just wanted to check on you.”
“Crowley can be… a dick.” He said. “Whatever he said probably isn’t even true.”
You sighed and gathered your hair to one side. “Why would he lie?”
“But we can handle it right?” You asked. “Whatever he’s talking about. From what you guys told me, we’re superheroes.”
Dean nodded, “So you’re alright?”
“Always.” You fell back onto the bed. “But I do need a nap.”
“I’m down the hall if you need anything.” Dean said as he walked over to your door. You gave him a small smile and watched him shut the door behind himself.
Within minutes, you were asleep.
You woke up to the sound of muffled shouting. As you walked slowly through the hallway, you found it emanating from Dean’s bedroom.
“Dean?” You knocked on his door. Slowly, you turned the knob and found him kicking his sheets violently.
“Dean!” You whispered loudly. As you walked closer, you saw his shirt was damp with sweat. He had fallen asleep with his laptop open on his bed. You shut it and placed it on his nightstand before sitting next to him.
“Hey, Dean. Wake up.” You placed a hand on his arm. His eyes shot open and he grabbed your wrist, tight.
“Dean, it’s me!” You pulled yourself from his grip.
His fingers slowly eased off your wrist. “Why are you-”
“You were screaming.” You looked at him. HIs hair was mussed up from the pillow.
He exhaled and began to sit up. For some reason, he wouldn’t look you in the eye.
“Yeah?” His eyes were glued to the far wall.
“What did you dream about?”
“It wasn’t a dream, Y/N.” He said, finally meeting your gaze.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, moving closer to him.
“No.” Dean sank back down into his pillow.
You didn’t have many memories, but you remembered how even his breathing was while you slept with him on the couch. The memory made you feel a sense of calm. So, without another thought, you laid down by his side.
Dean didn’t protest. Instead, his hand found your shoulder and you pressed yourself against his side. As his eyes fell shut again, his cheek found your head. As he leaned against you, you rested your head in the crook of his neck and listened to his heartbeat slow from how you originally found him.
An hour later, you woke up. The clock read a bright 9:42 PM. Why Dean needed such a large, bright clock, you had no idea. Carefully, you lifted his arm from your waist before pulling the blanket over him.
“Sweet dreams.” You whispered, shutting the door behind you. For a while, you wandered around the halls. You discovered there was a room that held exclusively empty boxes.
“I could build a fort…” You whispered, lifting up a large box before tossing it back down. Another room held a collection of what seemed like ancient weapons. Lifting one up from its shelf, you saw it was a heavy wooden stick with a metal point at the end.
“Did cavemen used to live here?” You asked the air, placing the abnormally heavy tool back down.
“Y/N?” Sam poked his head into the room. You dropped the small knife you were holding and grabbed at your chest.
“Don’t you knock?” You breathed out.
“Sorry.” He lifted the knife for you. “What are you doing in here?”
“I got bored.” You looked around the room. “This isn’t really helping, though.”
He let out a soft laugh. “You do know we have a TV, right?”
“I know, but I didn’t think you did! I haven’t seen you do anything but read in the last week!” You exclaimed, following him out of the room.
“Well, I’m trying to find something to help you remember.”
“I’m extremely thankful for that, Sam. But we both know nothing is going to help me but time – I mean I freaking angel tried!” You paused, “And now I’m on some hitlist.”
He stopped and looked back at you. “It’s probably not a hitlist.”
“It is SO a hitlist.” You crossed your arms.
“Is nothing not funny to you?” He asked with a smile.
“I like it better this way.” You shrugged and Sam nodded, understanding something that he didn’t share.
After a while, you realized Sam had been walking towards the library, so you continued to follow him.
“I should be helping.” You grabbed a book and sat down next to him.
He flipped it over and furrowed his brows, “Enchantment Spells?” He asked.
“Which book should I be reading?”
“Here.” He passed you one. It bore no title.
In silence, you read page after page. It told about different forms of mystical amnesia, and how it could be magically done to someone. Yet, there was nothing on removing it.
“Yeah?” He flipped a page.
“What hunt was Crowley talking about?”
“I think he wants us to kill whoever is after you.”
You tilted your head, wondering how that could make sense. “But if demons are after me, and he’s the king of hell…why would he want them dead?”
Sam sighed. “Demons aren’t really as clean cut as you think. There’s a hierarchy. They kill each other, save each other, or just don’t care about each other. So whoever is after you…Crowley may want them dead as well.”
Moments later you asked, “How do you do this? How did I do this?”
“Hm?” He asked, lifting his eyes from his book.
“Wake up, fight evil, eat, sleep, and repeat?”
“You get used to it.” He said.
Dean walked out of his room, keeping his steps silent as he walked towards the voices he heard. He stood by the entrance of the library, unnoticed.
“What if I don’t want to get used to it?” Your voice cracked. “What if I don’t want to be on some demons list?”
Sam stared back at you, silent.
“I don’t want to die, Sam.” Tears filled your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You felt a hand grip your shoulder, and you jumped.
“What’s up with you guys scaring me?” You exclaimed, quickly wiping at your eyes before looking up at Dean.
“You’re not gonna die, Y/N.” Dean grabbed the beer that Sam had been nursing.
You shut the book at stood up. “You can’t guarantee that.”
Dean dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut.
Somehow, you found yourself in the training room, tying bandages around your knuckles. There was no reason to feel this angry, you thought. Why should you? You had the two strongest men in the world protecting you, along with an angel. Fear though, was paralyzing. So, you steadied the punching bag and let it all go. You landed punch after punch, feeling your fists burn with each one.
The bag soon begged for mercy, swinging aimlessly. It could have been an hour had passed before you stopped, but you didn’t care. By the time you pulled your fists away, blood caked through the once-white bandage.
As you unwrapped it, you winced. The mesh stuck to your wounds and it burned as you ripped it off.
“Son of a bitch.” You whispered, finally tossing it into the trashcan.
“Good form.” Dean had apparently been standing by the door.
“Do you ever knock?” You asked.
Dean shrugged. He noticed you tied up your hair. Your chest glistened with sweat.
“But next time, separate your feet a little more.” He walked up to your side and demonstrated. His punch left the bag swinging. You caught it, steadying it.
“I’ll remember that.” You smiled.
“Come at me.” Dean stepped back.
Dean had been training you in here for nearly two weeks. You had pinned him down a couple of times, but you were already tired now.
“Maybe tomorrow.” You grabbed a water bottle and popped the cap. Without warning, he grabbed your wrist and spun you around. You crashed into his chest. Immediately, you linked your ankle behind his and pulled so he slid underneath you.
He laughed from the floor and jumped back up.
Training with Dean had to be your favorite thing to do in the bunker. Not only did it help you re-gain your technique, but Dean was beyond amusing. Watching his faces as he struggled was hilarious to you.
“You always pout your lip when you’re trying to figure out what to do!” You laughed.
But you never knew that Dean loved this time just as much, perhaps more. It allowed him to feel more confident in your abilities, while at the same time getting to spend alone time with you. He knew your technique like the back of his hand – and he was proud of it.
“So?” You asked, holding Dean’s arm behind his back, “You think I can kill whoever’s after me?”
“Without a doubt.” He said, bending over. You had to jump to roll of his back as he did so.
“That’s new.” You commented. A smug smile found its home on his face. “Hey, do you think we could try-”
“Dean! Y/N!” Sam came rushing into the room.
“What?” Dean wiped his forehead with a towel.
“My tracking system worked.” Sam stared at you, “I found them.”
“Who? What are you talking about?” You asked.
“The demons that are after you.” He explained, “They’re in Kansas.”
“Lebanon, to be exact.” Sam stated.
Dean looked at you with an expression you couldn’t read. Sighing, you sat down on the bench and dropped your head into your hands.
“We’ve dealt with worse.” Dean appeared by his side. The front of his shirt was damp with sweat. You stared at it as it hung off his chest loosely. You couldn’t do anything but sit in silence; there was nothing to say. So, you dropped your head onto his shoulder and stared blankly at the wall.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not scared.”
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