"Sam, there's something I need to tell you," Castiel tried but it was too late.
The youngerWinchester froze in his tracks when he entered the room holding hisbrother. His jaw dropped and a strangled noise escaped him as he stared at the sight before him. His good hand immediately reached for the holy water in his back pocket, unscrewing the lid as an exorcism formed on his lips but the angel's hand on his arm stopped him and he turned to face him.
"She's dead," he hissed, his hazel eyes flaring. "She's dead."
"She was…but she's back. It's really her."
"What did you do?"
Both men whirled around at the low, threatening tone coming from the middle of the room followed by the sounds of struggling to get out of the chair. The demon formerly known as Dean Winchester's eyes were black and the loathing on his face was enough to send a cold chill down even the angel's spine. He jerked at the handcuffs again, his teeth bared as he screamed.
"Hello Dean," she greeted softly, stepping inside the Devil's Trap, stopping only when she was inches away from him.
"I guess it's true what they say," he spat, his eyes green again but no warmer than moments before.
"What's that?" she questioned, raising a hand to set against his cheek but thinking better of it and allowing it to drop back to her side.
"You really aren't a Winchester until you prove you can't stay dead like you should," he snarled before lunging against his restraints again in an attempt to get to her only to have Sam jerk her away last second in spite of his brother's inability to reach her.
"I'm fine," she reassured him, taking his hand from her arm and giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it and turning back to the demon in their midst.
"What's dead should stay dead," he repeated, his tone low and once again taking on a threatening air.
"Do you remember when we met?" she asked, sitting in front of him, just outside the Devil's Trap on the floor for Sam's peace of mind.
"I have all of his memories, Sweetheart," he purred, his mood and demeanor drastically changing. "Including all the things he used to do to that hot little body of yours. Though it wasn't as fun after you popped out the kid. The baby weight stuck around and you just never quite felt as good…too loose. Always had to think of something else to get off."
"You were…typical you," she started the story, staring down at her clasped hands for a moment before raising her gaze back up to his face, searching for some small piece of the human she knew and loved.
"I wanted in your pants," he sneered, a cocky grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I wanted to fuck you and then carry on with my life, just like with every other meaningless whore."
"That's not what happened though is it?" she questioned, smiling ruefully. "You tried from the second we introduced ourselves."
"
"I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean," his brother responded to her introduction.
"It's nice to finally put some faces to the stories Ellen's told me," she laughed as she shook their hands.
"All good, I hope. We wouldn't want a pretty girl like you thinking bad about us," the older Winchester flirted, earning a smile and an eye roll from her.
"Well she was definitely right about you with your bad pick up lines. Stow 'em, Dean. I don't mix business with pleasure," she retorted, causing Sam to let out a bark of laughter.
"I like you," he said, ignoring the dark look his big brother was wearing. "He needs to hear that more often."
"Shut up, Sammy," he hissed.
"You became a challenge after that," he intoned. "He didn't get told no often by women who meant it and he was determined to fuck you. That's all he ever wanted."
"I'm sure," she laughed quietly, her eyes dancing as she smiled at him. "That certainly sounds like the Dean I first met."
"It carried on. You know he only stuck around out of a sense of guilt, don't you?"
"What about the djinn? Do you remember that? Sam and I were worried sick about you. He called me and told me you'd taken off to deal with it yourself and you hadn't come back. He couldn't get ahold of you either. I didn't even hesitate to pack up and go help him."
"You know the part he failed to tell you about that djinn fiasco? He was a drunk. A useless piece of crap that stole from family. That's the reason he and Sammy didn't talk. He couldn't get his act together. Not even in his own dream world could he get his shit figured out. He was with you. You felt sorry for him. The drunk black sheep of the family. Can you believe that? He stuck you with an even shittier version of himself."
"Mom was still alive," he confessed. "Dad had died but it was from a stroke. A stroke can you believe that? Something normal killed him. Sammy was in Stanford with Jess. They were going to get married. We weren't close…we were barely even on speaking terms but he was happy. He was fucking happy and that made it worthwhile."
"Dean…" his name came out barely above a whisper as she grabbed his hand, sliding her fingers through his and squeezing gently.
"You were there too. You were a nurse which…I guess isn't too far off. You give a damn about people. More than you should. It fit you pretty well. It would be good for you…if you ever get out."
She opened her mouth to speak again but he shook his head, running his free hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck. His green eyes stayed trained on a small stain in the motel room's carpet a foot in front of him as he opened up to her. It was difficult. People always betrayed his trust; always used his confessions and feelings against him. He didn't know why he was letting her in but he couldn't make himself shut up no matter how hard he tried.
"You never did well with opening up to people," she mused, her eyes finding his and studying them. "I get it though. I've always gotten it."
"He never opened up to you because you weren't worth it," he crooned, blinking green to black to remind her who she was speaking to. "You were a good and easy screw once he actually got into your pants. That was it."
"Something else I understood better than anyone was when you sold your soul to save Sam. It was devastating knowing that you'd done it; that you'd sold your soul and were going to Hell. You kept telling me there was nothing to figure out. That if we tried then Sam would die. I was so determined though. We all were."
"Not so much him. Oh sure he went along with your crusades and your plans but it wasn't until the very end that he realized he wanted to stick around. Who knows? Maybe if he'd tried a little harder himself, he could have found an out but he didn't. He half assed everything."
"I remember the day you told me," she continued, ignoring his taunts.
"What did you do?" she asked quietly, her voice strangled on the tears he knew she would never let surface.
"What I had to," he answered, doing his best not to meet her eyes. "I can't live without my brother…I can't. I'm not even supposed to be here. I wouldn't be if Dad hadn't done the same thing. It's a fair trade."
"Dean," she whispered his name like a plea before wrapping her arms around him, her fingers gripping his hair as he buried his face in her neck. "It's okay. We'll figure something out."
"There's nothing to figure out," he told her. "If we try…Sammy's dead."
"I'm pretty sure I was in love with you even then."
"God you're full of hot air," he taunted, pulling at the cuffs keeping him locked in the chair.
"You aren't going to be able to slip out of those again, you know."
"Can't blame a demon for trying," he shrugged, flashing his dimples as he smiled at her. "You could take them off. We could have a little fun. That's what you were always best at."
"I lost count of how many voicemails I left for you. I kept telling myself to stop but I'd always wake up after a bender and find your number in my recent calls at least three times."
"He didn't listen to a single one of them. In fact, he wasn't even going to call and let you know he was alive but Bobby already had before he knew it."
"Remember how it felt when I first saw you again? I dropped everything and I drove straight to you. I didn't even check out of my motel. I just grabbed my shit and left. I just…I needed to get to you more than I needed to breathe."
The car was barely in park before she had the door open and was scrambling out of it but he was already there, hauling her out of the seat and into his arms. He buried his face in her hair as he crushed her to his chest. Her hands scrambled to find purchase in his shirt as he lifted her from the ground. Her chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath and he knew he wasn't going to be able to bring himself to let her go.
"I missed you," she gasped, burying her face in his neck and lifting her legs to wrap them around his waist. "I missed you so fucking much you son of a bitch."
"So I heard in all those voicemails you left," he chuckled, breathing her in.
"How pathetic…and stupid," he laughed, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. "Not even smart enough to test him. How did you survive as long as you did?"
"At that point, Dean, I didn't really care. You could have been a demon and killed me and I wouldn't have had a single regret. It was so hard without you. Never in my life had I experience pain like I did when I lost you; when I realized that we hadn't been able to save you."
"You weren't even there when it happened, Sweetheart. You weren't there in his greatest hour of need."
"I know," she murmured, glancing up at him. "To this day, that's my biggest regret. I should have been there with you. I should have been at your side."
"But you weren't."
"No, I wasn't…and I did everything to make up for that even though I knew I never could. I was there for you. I listened to you even when you weren't saying a damn thing. I tried small things like giving you a Christmas to help keep you preoccupied even for just a little while."
"None of it worked. He still remembered every damn detail about what happened in Hell. What was done to him, what he did to others. You weren't good enough…at anything."
"Do you remember the first time you kissed me? It took four years…four years, Dean, but it was worth the wait; even more than worth it."
He looked away from the motel room's television and took the beer she was offering him before turning his attention to her face and the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. He set the beer he'd just taken from her on the nightstand before grabbing her wrist and pulling her down so she was sitting next to him on the bed. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and tucked her into his side before looking back to the countdown that had just started.
"Happy New Years, Dean," she told him happily once it had finished.
"You know you're the only thing that's keeping me grounded right now," he admitted, staring at her for only a moment before crushing his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss that had been four years in the making.
"You can talk and tell me these stories all you want, Princess. I remember them well and they aren't doing any good sitting in my head. What makes you think they're going to do any good just because you're saying them out loud?"
"It's me being selfish," she admitted, spinning the ring on her left hand. "I know that memories aren't going to work, Dean. I know they aren't going to fix you. I know you have to go through the treatment but it helps keep my mind off of what's happening."
"You mean it helps block out my screams when you inject me with that poison," he spat, his eyes fluttering to black again as he tried pulling at the cuffs one more time.
"It helps me concentrate on the fact that we're curing you. It helps me focus on making more memories like that ones I'm talking about; good and bad."
"Bad memories…you mean like the time you told him you were knocked up," he sneered before clenching his jaw.
"No!" she screamed, stepping forward and shoving him in the chest. "Don't you fucking dare, Dean Winchester."
"This isn't up for debate," he told her quietly, meeting her eyes with determination. "If there's even the smallest chance to save people, I have to do it."
"You can't!" she hissed, shoving him again. "I won't fucking let you do that. You're not going to say yes and be Michael's meat suit. What happened to you? Why are you suddenly so eager to say yes and be his puppet?"
"Because I can't do this anymore!" he yelled at her. "I just can't, okay?! I can't stand back and pretend there's another way when there isn't!"
"Well you better get back to helping us figure one out because you're not leaving me here to raise this baby by myself!"
"There's nothing to figure—what?!" he started but stopped himself when the realization of what she'd just told him sunk in.
"I'm pregnant, Dean," she informed him; her voice quiet but firm and all he could do was stare at her blankly. "I just found out today."
"It's not exactly how I planned to tell you but I wouldn't call it a bad memory," she argued. "It finally got through to you that saying yes to Michael was a stupid decision."
"Just think, if you'd let him say yes to Michael then no one would be in this position. Adam wouldn't be trapped down in the cage and Sammy never would have gone through it himself."
"Except the planet would be deep fried, Sam wouldn't have survived because he would have shown up to their fight just like you did, and Adam…wouldn't have stood a chance at all. Crowley would have snagged him right up and sent him to Hell just like he did to Bobby. What happened…the way it went down was for the best. It's a hard pill to swallow but it had to be done."
"Now see that's where your selfish side is kicking in. You just didn't want the planet deep fried because then you would have been alone with no one around to depend on."
"I guess you're right…but it has nothing to do with no one being around for me to depend on and everything to do with our daughter. If you had said yes to Michael then she wouldn't have had her father or half the people she does now. She never would have known how great her daddy really is. She never would have gotten to see everything you've done for her. Remember when you built that nursery for her in the house we were renting after Sam dragged Lucifer and Michael into the cage?"
"Dean," she breathed, looking around the room as he removed his hands from her eyes. "It's perfect. How did you find the time for this?"
"It wasn't hard," he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It didn't take long. Just some paint and stuff."
"Stop doing that," she scolded, turning around to face him. "It's beautiful and perfect. I love that you went to all this trouble for us; for our baby."
"You don't need to make a big deal about it," he told her quietly. "I just thought…I wanted our kid to have a nursery. I want to give her everything Sammy and I never had growing up."
"You did amazing," she assured him, setting her hands on his cheeks and pulling him down so she could press her lips against his. "This is more than I could have ever imagined; way better than anything generic from online or baby magazines."
"I wanna do this right," he admitted, settling his own hands against her bulging stomach. "I wanna be a good dad."
"You will be," she insisted, a pretty smile lighting up her face. "You're already off to a great start."
She winced at his screaming when Sam injected him with another dose of blood. The roars of pain echoing through her head, bringing an ache into her own chest. She glanced at him only for a moment, her gaze quickly darting away when it met the black eyes of the demon masquerading as the man she'd loved for the better half of the last decade. Her hands balled into fists and she had to remind herself that it was for the good either way. Either he would be cured or the demon would be taken care of.
"Remember, Dean, when you were turned into a vampire? You came to see me and AJ…came to tell us goodbye," she murmured when his screaming quieted and his chin fell forward to touch his chest. "You couldn't have thought, even for a second, that I would let that happen."
"He's out," Sam told her softly, setting his hand on her shoulder; trying to offer comfort in spite of his own hurt.
"I know," she confirmed, giving him a weak smile. "I have to keep talking though. If I don't—"
The little mobile he made for her spun and played quietly as he watched her sleep. His eyes burned and his heart constricted in his chest. Her tiny little lips moved as though she were sucking on a bottle and she made a small whine as she breathed out. She was perfect. She was beautiful. She was everything he had ever wanted in one small bundle. She represented what he'd fought so hard to gain. She was also a reminder of what he could never have.
"Dean?" her mother questioned from the doorway, her voice husky with sleep. "You didn't tell me you were coming."
"I just…came to say goodbye."
"What? Dean, you're not making any sense. What's going on?"
He could hear her blood pumping through her veins. The way her heartbeat sped up when he spoke. He could smell the fear coming off of her in waves. He couldn't stay. He couldn't put them in danger. He was a monster; turned into what they'd hunted for so many years. His mouth hurt and he was fighting so hard to keep his new found fangs from exposing themselves.
"I'm not coming back. I can't keep putting you two in danger. You're out and I don't ever want her in it. I'm leaving."
"Dean," she tried, moving to block his exit. "Tell me what's going on."
"I just did!" he yelled. "I'm not coming back. You stay here and you find someone and give AJ the life we were robbed of."
"Dean Winchester!" she snapped, but in his desperation to get out, he shoved her out of the way and ran just as the sharp teeth he'd been trying to keep hidden broke free.
"Do you remember when you killed me, Dean? Do you remember what the Mark made you do? Do you remember how the demon inside of me knew exactly what to say to make you angry enough that it took control and you couldn't stop yourself? Do you remember how it ripped itself out of my body right before the First Blade shoved through my stomach? Do you remember the enormous amount of guilt you felt even though it wasn't your fault? Do you remember how you couldn't control yourself? I do, Dean. Every second of it. I remember fighting tooth and nail to gain control over my own body and failing because it wasn't just some lower level demon possessing me; it was one of Abbadon's favorites. I remember you blaming yourself and apologizing for something you couldn't have stopped even if you tried. I remember wishing I could make you see that you weren't to blame. I remember wishing I could use my last breath to tell you how much I love you. I remember being so focused on wanting to take all of your pain away that I didn't even feel my own."
"I'm sorry," he choked out, sinking to the ground with her lifeless body in his arms.
"Dean! Oh my God. Dean, what happened?!" Sam yelled as he finally managed to bust the door to the room open; freezing in his tracks.
"Please," he begged, burying his face in her neck as the tears broke free, streaking down his face. "Please, don't go. I'm sorry. I need you here. I can't—I just can't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. Don't make me do this without you."
"When did you learn to do that?" Sam laughed as he watched Dean braid AJ's hair.
"When my five year old asked me to fix her hair for school and I'm the only one that can do it," he shot back, tying off his daughter's blonde hair with a tie then gently pushing her forward. "Go get your coat and backpack on, Sweetheart."
"Thanks, Daddy!" she chirped happily, turning and giving him a kiss on the cheek before running off to do as she was told.
"Dude…"
"Sammy, just don't."
"I was going to say you're a good father. She'd be proud."
"Daddy?" her small voice at the side of his bed pulled him back into the waking world with a sharp intake of breath.
"What's wrong?" he asked, blinking a few times before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"I had a bad dream," she sniffled and his heart ached to see the sight of the fat tears rolling down her little cheeks.
"Come here," he told her, pulling the blankets back for her. "What was it about?"
"The thing that got Mommy got you and Uncle Sammy too," she whispered after crawling into bed with him and curling into his side. "I was all alone."
"You will never be alone, Baby Girl," he told her, wrapping his arms tightly around her and pulling her into his lap. "It wasn't a thing that got Mommy. It was a very bad man. I promise that me and Uncle Sammy are always going to be here with you. We won't let the man get you too."
"What's next?" he asked her, unable to keep the grin off of his face at the smear of flour on her nose.
"Chocolate chips!" she announced excitedly, upending the entire bag into the pancake batter before another word could be said.
"You really think we need that many in just a few pancakes?" he questioned, reaching over and brushing the flour from her nose.
"Nope!" she cheerfully answered him. "We need more!"
"I think that's more than enough," he laughed, mixing the mountain of chocolate chips in before spooning some of the mixture onto the griddle. "Your uncle is going to kill me for letting you have this much sugar in the morning already."
"I want strawberry syrup on mine!" she told him, her eyes bright with joy. "Lots of it!"
"I think we can do that," he conceded, leaning over and kissing the top of her head. "Why don't you hop down, go get washed up, and let Uncle Sammy know breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."
"Okay, Daddy!" she chirped before climbing down from her step stool and running off to do as she was told.
"Dean, I can't sit in that chair. It's not physically possible."
"Sammy, sit down," he commanded. "Are you really gonna tell her no because your gigantor legs are too long?"
His younger brother gave him the resting bitch face he was famous for before squatting down and seating himself (as best as he could) in the small pink chair in front of the small pink table not even a minute before the little girl in question came bouncing through the door. Her smile lit up the room and he couldn't keep his own off his face.
"Here!" she chirped happily, settling a floppy yellow hat on top of her uncle's head and a light purple one on top of her father's. "Now we match!"
The indignant look on Sam's face was his undoing and he couldn't keep himself from laughing as he patted his brother on the back and then turned to his little girl. She was the only thing keeping him sane and if making her happy meant wearing a purple floppy hat, well that was the very least he could do. She was his guiding light in the darkness; reminding him that even after losing her mother, the world hadn't completely faded into black.
"Do you like your tea, Uncle Sammy?" she asked, her green eyes blown wide with anticipation as she watched him take a sip of the water with tea flavored enhancer in it.
"It's perfect," he told her as he set the tiny cup down back onto its saucer.
"What the Hell are we doing to him, Cas? I mean, even after I gave him all that blood he still said he didn't want to be cured. That he didn't want to be human," Sam questioned the angel, eyes on his brother.
"Well…I can see his point. You know only humans can feel real joy but also such profound pain. This is easier," he answered.
The two quickly pulled her to her feet and stepped in front of her when the oldest Winchester stirred and started to lift his head. His younger brother immediately undoing the lid of the holy water in his hand just in case it was needed. She watched through their arms as he opened his eyes, her heart sinking when they were still black but they quickly bled out to their normal green and she couldn't stop her hopes from climbing. He grunted and shook his head as if he was trying to clear it before turning his attention to them.
"You look worried, fellas," he remarked, a hint of a smile ghosting over his mouth before he frowned.
Sam and Castiel looked at each other for a moment before Sam took a small step toward him and tossed the holy water over him. He flinched and pulled back then stared at them; the confusion and hesitation told them everything they needed to know and they both smiled.
"Welcome back, Dean," his brother greeted and his face fell.
He opened his mouth to respond but the words died in his throat when the two men in front of him both side stepped and she was standing there. She looked nothing like the last time he'd seen her. She wasn't ghostly pale and her lips were their normal color instead of stained red with her own blood. Her eyes were bright and dancing instead of blank and lifeless. His breath came in short spurts as he took the sight of her in. He was dreaming; she couldn't be there. She was possessed; there was no other explanation. He hadn't been able to bring himself to give her the salt and burn special. Not with their daughter's inability to understand what happened. She needed a grave to visit and, to be honest, so had he.
Her name escaped him, a prayer on his lips, as she stepped forward and released him from the restraints keeping him in the chair. Once free, he nearly knocked her over with the force of his embrace. His arms flew around her waist and his face buried itself into her neck. Her hands lifted and, for a moment, the fear that she was going to push him away made his blood run cold. Instead, she brushed her fingers through his hair and whispered gentle assurances to let him know she was really there before kissing his temple.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he apologized, repeating the words like a mantra as he clung to her. "I didn't—I couldn't—"
"Stop it," she scolded, pulling away and cradling his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "No one blames you but yourself. It's a terrible habit I wish you'd break."
"How?" he asked, his green eyes shining with unshed tears as they drank in the sight of her. "How are you back?"
"We'll delve into that story later," she replied, pulling out of his embrace before tangling their fingers together. "It's been a long day…for both of us and right now I just want to get into the car and go pick our daughter up from Sheriff Mills'. School starts soon and I want to spend all the time together as a family that we can; just us."