A/N: For those who didn't read my first story, the premise for this verse is simple: the reader, in a way, IS the sibling Winchester in the stories. It's a way for you to feel like a part of this fictional world. It's told in the sibling's POV, and she's pretty savvy. It's a great way for me to explore each character in a very personal way, and I like that. So does my muse. She wanted a rescue - a rescue where you feel the "power/aura" of the boys reigning down on the fugly. So that's what I wrote. But I had to include the sibling schmoop because that's what I looooove.
Disclaimer: I own nothing remotely related to this show, I just own my verse.
So Now We Know
xxxxx
I rubbed my eyes and leaned against the counter in Bobby's kitchen. I was so fucking tired, but there was shit to be done, and I was the only Winchester healthy enough to do it. At least, that's what I kept telling myself, which I knew was pretty much a load of crap.
Dean was feeling a lot better now that his round of pills were done and he spent most of the last few days sleeping. He was itching to get up and about, but I was restricting his activity. I didn't want to admit it, but this last cold/flu thing freaked me out a little. It took him down too fast and too hard, and while he was anxious about getting back to hunting and finding Dad, I wanted to be sure he was completely recovered before we did anything.
Sam was a different story.
Sam was always a different story.
He didn't have the chest infection or the exhaustion or the high fever Dean experienced. He just had this fucking miserable cold that was lingering, as if it wanted to screw up our plans. Sam has not spent the majority of the last several days sleeping. He's been coughing and sneezing and blowing and sighing and shivering and did I mention he's been sighing?
He's also been a trooper, really, and oddly compliant. Not that I've ever had trouble getting Sam to take care of himself, but he can get so monster/demon focused that sometimes I need to push a little more than normal to make him take it easy. This cold, though, has pretty much encouraged him to act as if he were 12. He's wanted - needed - my company and almost been...jealous? … of my attention to Dean. He knew I was needed by both of my brothers, but I could feel an insecurity radiating from Sam that I hadn't felt in years.
I resumed cleaning the dishes and the mess from dinner as Bobby came in the kitchen. I peered at him over my shoulder and saw him narrow his eyes and assess the scene before him. Confused I looked around. What the hell is he assessing?
"Hey…" I said, turning back towards the sink. "How's Ryan?" Ryan was another hunter who had called Bobby for some help on a hunt in Montana. I squeezed more soap onto a sponge and started to scrub. There was something calming about normal, everyday chores like washing dishes that I loved. Even if I was tired as fuck.
"The idjit's fine. He used a silver knife instead of an obsidian one." I grunted and rolled my eyes. "But he's recovering. How're you doing? Hand me those...I'll dry."
I handed Bobby a freshly rinsed bowl and started in on a plate. "Me? I'm fine. Side's healed. Just tired and thinking about the boys and what we should do next."
"Hmph…what about the boys? Did you mean Dean's twitchiness or Sam's bitchiness?" He snorted at his own rhyme as he set the dry dishes on the counter.
I chuckled, "Actually...it's Sam...I dunno." I stopped washing and leaned against the counter. I turned to Bobby and said, "Remember when I was 10? And Sam had that thing about Dad leaving me here a lot?"
"Hell yes, I remember."
I spent more time with Bobby than Dad when growing up. Dad never really knew what to do with a girl, despite Dean's insistence that Dad should, given that he was already raising Sam.
We started out together all the time...until Dad realized he was in over his head. He could barely raise the two kids he had, and honestly, he wasn't...Dean was raising Sam while Dad was off helping other people's families.
Then I came along.
It wasn't that Dean complained about having to raise two kids. If there's one thing Dean excels at, it's doing what he feels is expected of him. But I think Dad realized that another little kid in this already tenuous situation was not good.
So...last one in...first one out.
We ended up swinging by Bobby's a lot, and pretty soon, I was often left standing on the porch, my bag at my feet, silently watching the Impala drive away. A desperately sad Sam would stare at me through the back windshield, and Dean, in the front, sat staring straight ahead, unable to make eye contact.
After a couple years of being apart more than together, Sam had enough. He wanted me with them all the time, needing the comfort of someone who understood him. He started pitching fits every time I was left behind and I'm thinking he complained to Dad a lot when I wasn't around.
Then, out of nowhere, Dad made the choice to train me with the boys...full time. I don't know if Sam's complaining and Dad's change of heart were connected, but the timing was spot on.
Returning to the present, Bobby sighed. "That's when your life changed. There was no turning back after that."
Actually, my life changed the moment Dad picked me up from that shitty apartment and brought me here. Anything was better than that. Even hunting.
Bobby kept his eyes on his dish towel, still drying a plate that was already dry.
"Come on, Bobby," I said quietly, "You were training me long before that….you just never told me why." I'm certain the older hunter heard the smile in my voice before he even lifted his eyes to meet mine.
"I vowed to keep you safe, missy. Weren't nothing that was going to mess with that."
If we did tears and emotional bonding moments, I'm sure that statement would have cued the waterworks. Maybe even a hug.
But we don't.
Clearing my throat, I said, "Well, I dunno...I feel like Sam's acting like that again." Bobby frowned. "He's clingy, he's needy, he's...insecure. It's not like him. Dean thinks it's because Sam's sick...and yeah, I don't think he'd be quite like this if he weren't...but still...something's off."
"Well...have you talked to him about it? I've seen some of what you're talking about. I kinda agree with Dean - I think it's the 'feeling shitty' thing that's bringing out the inner Samchild. I've seen that boy sick a lot, and I've seen him sick around you. This is sick-Sam, sweetheart."
I sighed. "I know. I just…" I sighed again. "Something's off." I paused and looked down at the wrinkles on my fingertips from the soapy water. "I just feel it."
Bobby put his towel down. He crossed his arms, leaned against the counter, and sighed in response. "I learned over the years to just accept the freakish bond you have with those boys. So if you say something's off…" He trailed off, letting the thought just hang there. "Anyway, despite all that, you look like you're gonna drop on my floor, so I'm ordering you to go to bed early. I'll finish these up."
I looked up sharply at him, "What? No, we haven't looked at any -"
Bobby put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a little shake. "Listen here, missy, you've been running yourself all over the place since you got here. Every sniffle from one of them boys has you hopping up for Kleenex or pills or a blanket, or something. You need to rest, too. I know you're not gonna get sick, that's not my point. You're just fucking tired. So just fucking get some sleep. The maps and shit will still be here in the morning."
He turned me around and nudged me towards the staircase.
Truth was, I wasn't tired, I was exhausted.
I called over my shoulder, "You know, you're a pushy old man, Singer." He laughed as I walked to the stairs.
Sam not sleeping due to his sneezing fits meant Dean wasn't sleeping due to his sneezing fits. I made the decision for Sam share my room with me, while Dean stayed in the spare bedroom. He had to rest, and Sam needed a break from constantly trying to be quiet and then feeling guilty over keeping him awake.
Apparently, I eased his guilt, because Sam just let himself sneeze, cough, hack, snore, and thrash around in bed from that night on. He's never been self-conscious around me, and he certainly didn't start now. That was fine and ok and all that...but goddammit I was tired. So I allowed myself the mental airtime to bitch about it.
I was passing the room the boys...Dean...was staying in when the door swung open and out stepped the man himself, almost running into me.
"Whoa…" I blurted, taking a step back in surprise. I looked up at my brother, automatically assessing how I thought he was doing while also wondering why he was barreling out of his room. "You ok? What's wrong?"
Dean rocked back on his heels as he stopped and looked at me in amusement. "Why does something have to be wrong? Perhaps I missed you." He leaned casually against the doorframe.
"Perhaps fuck you. What's up, really?" I didn't care if he left the room. I wasn't that controlling. Today. But he was practically running, and that got me curious. I narrowed my eyes and just stared at him.
"Wow, lookit you. I'm practically all better, bosslady. Save that look for another day. I told you, I missed you, and was going to find you." Dean paused to give me a mostly innocent smile that mostly lit up his face.
I narrowed my eyes even more.
Start talking or I swear to God….
I was expecting him to laugh it off, obnoxiously kiss my forehead, and then tell me he was going to get some porn on DVD. Or maybe he was going to check on Sam. Instead…
Dean narrowed his eyes back at me.
Time for you to go to bed.
I raised my eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest.
I mean it.
"Make sure she gets in bed, dammit!" Bobby yelled from downstairs.
"I was on my way to bed," I said, loudly and a little defensively.
Apparently, my time at the helm has ended.
I rolled my eyes and Dean's expression remained unchanged. "So Bobby agrees that you need to rest. Get your ass in your room. Tell Sam he needs to come back in here."
I blinked at Dean in surprise, "Nonono...Sam should stay with me." Dean opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "Dean...please...I...just leave him, ok?" I finished my plea with a small voice that I was hoping would tug at his heart.
After my talk with Bobby, I wanted to keep Sam close for a little while longer. I slowly started to move down the hallway towards my bedroom door. "It'll be fine. Go to bed. Watch some porn. If you need me...um...preferably long after the porn is done…. "
Dean tried to argue again, when Sam stepped into the hallway, Kleenex over his nose, hair sticking out in all directions. We both stopped and stared at him.
Sam blinked at us. "What?" He blew his nose and kept looking from Dean to me and back again. "What?!"
"Nothing...let's go to bed." I shoved Sam back in the room before Dean could do anything, and shut the door behind me.
xxxxx
"What was that all about?" Sam asked, as he blew his nose yet again, dropping the mess into an already full trash can. I finally trained them to use those stupid things.
I grabbed my t-shirt and sweats off the bed and gestured for Sam to turn around. Huffing, he turned to stare at the door. I could tell from the way he stood he was expecting an explanation.
"I told you - it was nothing. I was already heading to bed when Dean told me to go to bed which is when Bobby decided to yell that I needed to go to bed. Just a stupid clusterfuck of bossiness."
"I guess your time at the helm has ended, huh?" Sam laughed.
"Yeah," I shoved my dirty clothes in the hamper. "Clear!"
Sam turned around and grabbed his laptop which was sitting on my pillow. He shut the lid and put it on my dresser. After stretching and dragging his hands along the ceiling (the asshole - I could only reach the top of the doorframe), he dropped into bed and pulled the covers over himself.
I settled next to him and closed my eyes. I felt sleep pulling at me when Sam sneezed so hard, his top half actually left the bed. Waking back up, I opened my eyes and simply watched. This was the start of another fit, and we just had to wait it out. Sure enough, Sam sneezed for a good 15 seconds straight, then lay panting on the bed, wildly groping for more tissues. I leaned over to grab them, dropping a handful on his face.
He grunted a thanks before mightily blowing his nose. He rubbed his eyes vigorously. "Ok, I'm officially ready for this to be over. I feel fine. I just can't stop the stupid sneezing."
He coughed.
"Or that," he added, as he yawned. "Ok...and that…"
In a gesture of sympathy, I reached over to run my fingers through his hair. Just as my hand neared his face, Sam turned and sneezed again….right onto my hand. We both froze. Sam looked mortified. I probably looked disgusted. Then we both just burst out laughing.
Practically howling with laughter, actually.
We couldn't stop. We laughed (well, Sam laugh-coughed) so hard tears coursed down our faces.
Suddenly, there was thumping on the bedroom door.
"Hey!"
We froze again...it was Dean. He swung the door open and glared at us. Pointing his finger towards the bed, he said, "You both need to sleep. Knock it the fuck off. Sam - I swear to God, I'll put you in the other room if you two can't cut it out."
We didn't know what to say. Dean hadn't yelled at us like that in….fuck...almost 10 years. I knew he was worried that Sam was still sick. I knew he was worried that I had been run ragged. But Jesusfuck…
He mistook our stunned silence for acquiescence. Grunting with satisfaction, Dean made to close the door.
Sam nudged me under the covers.
Ready?
"Dean?" we called, in tiny...tiny voices.
The door paused as Dean turned back to us.
Two pairs of puppy eyes stared at him. Together, we chanted, "We love you!"
Dean flipped us the bird, and the door clicked shut.
A new round of cackling ensued.
xxxxx
Eventually we could control ourselves, and we lay in silence. There was a sliver of light peeking from under the door, and I could vaguely see Sam's face.
I heard, no...felt...Sam sigh, and I knew I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.
This time, I decided to play with the ends of Sam's hair rather than risk reaching over his face again.
"What's going on in there, Sam?"
He thought for a minute, sniffed, took a deep breath, and asked, "How come you don't call me Sammy?"
I blinked, a little taken aback. This wasn't the question I was expecting. But then again, I'm not sure what I was expecting. I focused on the strands of Sam's hair, twisting them around and around my fingers.
Finally, I raised my eyes to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, arms folded across his chest.
Where is this going?
"I'm just curious," was all he said.
I slowly nodded. Ooooookay.
I answered carefully, "Well, I guess there are a couple answers to that question. First off, I don't feel like it's my place to call you that."
That took Sam by surprise, and his face showed a look of confusion. He started to speak, so I shook my head, indicating that I wanted him to wait. Closing his mouth, he turned to fully face me. As he moved, his hair was pulled from between my fingers, so I tucked my hand under my pillow and met his eyes.
"I mean, 'Sammy' is Dean's. You were his Sammy the day you were born...before I was ever a part of...this. I don't think Dean would care if I did….but honestly? It feels like I'm trespassing if I use Sammy...so...I just don't. Sometimes I think it...and I think of you as Sammy. Maybe because I wish...I was with you guys from the beginning. But...I wasn't...soooo…."
I was too embarrassed to look at him anymore, so I turned my gaze to the pillows. I saw Sam nod out of the corner of my eye. "Ok...I guess...that makes sense. I just wanted to make sure…." *Sigh* "...and the other reason?"
Ohhhhh that.
I took a deep breath. "I think 'Sammy' is Dean's way of telling you that he loves you. He shows you how he feels when he uses that nickname. So again...using it feels like all sorts of wrong."
Dean wasn't there. Dean would never know I said it. Still, I felt like I was sharing a secret that wasn't supposed to be shared. So I kept my eyes on the pillow. But Sam asked...and Sam and I don't keep secrets.
Period.
Before I lost my nerve, I continued, "...and...I guess I have my own ways of telling you that I love you….that I'm so fucking lucky you're my brother."
There was complete silence in the room, now. We lay in it for a few moments, until I couldn't stand it anymore. I tentatively looked at him, and found that he was staring at me. I wasn't completely sure what expression he was wearing, but it was intense.
"You know…" he started, in a serious tone, "You are one of my bestest friends...ever."
I blinked at him, and responded just as seriously, "Besides Dean, I'm your only friend...ever."
Sam rolled onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. "Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe." He raised his arm so I could snuggle close, resting my head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around me and ran his thumb along my arm. I could now reach across his chest to play with his hair.
"I think I prefer this with you, and Dean can use Sammy." He softly murmured into my hair.
xxxxx
"Why the fuck does he just keep texting coordinates instead of just fucking calling us? This is fucking stupid. And he didn't send one, he sent three."
Sam was scowling over a map and his laptop, checking the coordinates Dad sent to Dean earlier this morning. Dean was hovering, drinking his coffee, with a look of concentration on his face. "Just look up where he wants us to go, Sammy. You know he has his reasons."
Sam huffed and sneezed into his arm. "It's still stupid."
Dean paused while taking a long drink and caught me watching him. He rolled his eyes.
JesusChrist why can't he just look this shit up without bitching?
I smiled back at him.
Duh...then it wouldn't be Sam.
Dean just grunted and went back to his coffee and his hovering.
I sat across the table, absently cleaning a couple of guns and pointedly staying out of it. I accepted a long time ago that Dad did whatever the hell he wanted, regardless of what we thought or felt. Even when he was wrong, his intentions were always the same - this is for the best, don't question me. Just do.
Dean typically accepted Dad's choice of actions, and Sam typically did not. I didn't feel like upsetting that nicely balanced dynamic and consequently dealing with an aura of betrayal from either brother. My life was complicated enough, thank you.
Bobby was out in the yard, directing the delivery of some junkers. He was pissed that Dad's text and the truck appeared at the same time. I knew that as soon as the cars were unloaded, he'd be pouring over the map and research with us.
"Dude...seriously...stop hovering. You're driving me crazy." Sam paused to blow his nose (again).
Dean straightened up and sighed. He knew Sam was still under the weather, and he knew we needed to stay put until Sam was completely over this cold. But when Dad sent an order…
"Yeah, ok. I'm gonna...get more coffee." Dean trudged to the kitchen, coughing lightly. You could barely tell he was incredibly sick a handful of days earlier.
As soon as he was out of earshot, I kicked Sam under the table.
"Ease up, bitch. What's wrong with you?"
Sam dug the heel of his hand in his eye and rubbed. "I dunno. I just have a really...really bad feeling about this case."
"You don't even know what it's about."
"I know...it doesn't matter. I've had this feeling for a while...something's gonna happen. I just know it. And now I think it's linked to wherever Dad is sending us." Sam bit his bottom lip as the clicking on the keyboard resumed.
So that was it.
Sometimes Sam gets….gut feelings….about hunts. The sense is usually vague and generic, but the emotions it surfaces in Sam are very real and intense.
I was about to reply when Sam shouted, "Got it, Dean!"
Dean hurried back into the room and set his coffee mug on the table. He leaned on the back of Sam's chair and asked, "Ok...what's the deal?"
I continued cleaning, but was fully listening now.
"Well, from what I can tell, the coordinates kind of make a path, starting outside of Chicago and heading west. I checked to see if there was any unusual activity in those areas. That's what took so long. Um... it looks like there are a bunch of girls that went missing and turned up dead, starting in the Chicago area, and then all along the coordinates Dad sent. Lemmie pull up the actual reports…"
The clicking on the laptop suddenly stopped and I heard Sam mutter, "Holy shit…." Curious, I looked up. Both boys were staring at the laptop, eyes flickering all over the screen, a mixture of horror and anger on their faces. Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line and I could see the corner of his mouth start to twitch.
"What?" I asked.
No response.
I tried again. "Hey! What is it?" I started to get up when Dean slammed his hand on the table, making Sam and me jump, and stomped out of the house.
What the hell? I quickly went around the table to see what the fuss was about.
Sam leaned back, his face grim. I looked at the screen. There were pictures of 8 different girls scattered across the screen. Next to each picture was brief information on each girl - where they lived, what they did for a living, where they went missing, their ages, blah blah...wait…
All the girls were roughly my age...and they all looked similar to me.
Really similar to me.
I stood up and scratched the back of my head. "Huh...that's new." I wasn't sure what else to say.
There were only 2 options - either I fit the profile of whatever was taking these girls, or I, myself, was being hunted. The latter seemed ridiculous...I wasn't important. I mean, seriously, outside of my family, no one knew me. I knew other hunters, sure, but only by association with Dad, Bobby, or Dean. I had no friends or contacts outside my family. No one.
So that meant I fit the profile.
Which meant that Dad wanted me to play bait.
Nice.
I heard a growling noise, and Sam abruptly stood up and went upstairs, shoving his chair into the table as he left.
Okay...no one needs to ask me how I feel about this….Awesome...
I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. Pulling the chair Sam just left, I sat down and began to read the reports he left on the screen, trying to understand what Dad was thinking.
Every girl was found dead, every girl had physical evidence of some sort of torture, every girl had immeasurable blood loss. They were drained dry.
Again….nice.
I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Closing the laptop, I decided to go find Dean.
Dean always followed Dad's orders...always. Lately he's had a harder time doing it, though - maybe because of Sam's influence, or maybe because he was growing into his own. Probably a combination of the two. The loyalty and the devotion, however, were still there in earnest.
But now….I wasn't sure how this little assignment would tip the scales.
I found him just beyond the back door, hands laced behind his head, pacing back and forth between an old Ford Mustang and the house. I cautiously went down the stairs and approached him.
He paused and pointed at me, "Not. One. Word." He resumed his pacing. I shoved my hands in my pockets and leaned against the car.
Sooo…..
Dean ignored me, and continued to pace.
I was about to give up and go find Sam when I heard him softly say, "I can't believe he would do this. What the fuck is he thinking?" I looked up.
Dean stopped pacing and was staring off into the distance. He dragged his hand over his face. "Ok...Sam's sick. He's still coughing and sneezing and he's tired, so we need to pass on this one. We can't hunt if Sammy's sick." He started to nod his head, convincing himself that this story would fly with Dad.
He suddenly turned and went back into the house, leaving me standing outside all alone.
"Sammy!" The screen door banged shut and I couldn't hear him anymore.
Okay, bye….
Bobby walked over from the garage, a frown on his face. "What's going on? Was that Dean yelling? What'd your dad say?"
I sighed. I filled him in on Dad's mission and what I read on Sam's laptop.
"So they're both angry at Dad, and neither of them have said one word to me about it." I crossed my legs at my ankles and folded my arms across my chest.
Bobby just looked at me.
"You know, more often than not, I think your daddy is an ass," he began. I nodded in agreement and gave a rueful smile. "But…" he said, and I looked up sharply at him, "I don't think he would just send you somewhere as bait for a monster. There must be more to the story than that."
I took a deep breath. "I agree with you. Still...let's say for shits and giggles that he did. Okay? Then...he did. I mean, it doesn't change anything. Those girls are still dead, more will go missing or get dead. And...fuck, Bobby….this is what we do, right? Save people?"
Bobby took his hat off and scratched his head. Replacing it, he pulled at his chin. "Yeah, missy. It is. But...even though I know your dad has his reasons, I can't blame the boys for being pissed. I'm not happy about it either."
I sighed. "I know. I'm not happy about it, but I can't even get them to talk to me."
Bobby grunted. "Well, then I guess you have to make them."
xxxxx
"No."
"Dean…."
"No."
"Sam!"
"No!"
We were all in the kitchen for a family meeting. It wasn't really a meeting, though. There was no discussion, there was no conversation. There was lecturing. First Dean, then Sam, then back to Dean - all about how this was stupid, not worth the risk, Dad's not thinking, it's too dangerous, maybe Sam could dress up and be the bait (that earned Dean a cuff on the head), send another hunter to deal with it. On and on and on.
I was trying to just talk about it, but they wouldn't let me even start. They said their piece, and apparently that was enough.
Bobby sat off to the side, sipping a beer, not saying anything. Knowing this was my battle, he chose to stay out of it, for now.
Sam and Dean both stood with their arms across their chests, feet apart, and they just glared at me.
We're not letting you do this. That's final.
I leaned against the counter, trying to keep my own anger and hurt in check. This wasn't about whether we were doing this hunt or being angry at Dad...it was that my thoughts were not allowed to be a part of this conversation.
I glanced at Bobby. He felt my eyes on him, and looked up. I saw him shrug, and then nod his head, almost imperceptibly.
I don't pretend to have an equal say. I never did, and I probably never will. I'm okay being in third place, I really am. Being raised by four powerfully overprotective, overbearing men is not easy, and I understood that the need to protect sometimes drowns all rational thought.
I wasn't challenging that.
I was challenging the right to be heard.
I pushed myself off the counter and squared my shoulders. The boys responded in kind, ready for a fight...only I wasn't going to fight.
Softly, I said, "You know, what's really upsetting right now is your refusal to even hear anything I have to say. You have no idea what I'm thinking, and what's worse, you don't care. I get that I'm not a full Winchester," Both boys bristled. "...but I've been a part of this...unit...for over 15 years. I've held my own and contributed and done whatever needed to be done. To just be dismissed like this … isn't fair."
Sam started to comment, but I interrupted him. "This isn't about me being your baby sister. Or me pouting because I think you're being overprotective. I get that the circumstances around this hunt are different. But this is about you not considering my opinion as a hunter."
I swallowed, then continued.
"I've never, ever, doubted how you both feel about me. Mary wasn't my mom, and for some reason, that has never been an issue for you. I've wished...that were my reality, but it isn't…"
Dean's expression shifted, and his whole stance softened.
"...and even if it were, I really don't think that would have changed our relationship. I just don't. But many times…"
I stared at the floor, "I've wondered whether you value me as a hunter or a partner. And maybe that's just me being insecure and bringing in things Dad's done or said in the past or me knowing I'm the weakest link here. But this…" Now I looked at them both. "This whole thing right now, makes me feel like it's true, and that I'm only good enough to take care of you and be a supportive sidekick. And that just sucks."
With that, I turned and walked out.
xxxxx
I wandered around the yard. I had nowhere to go and nowhere I wanted to be. I was so sure of myself going into that little speech. I was ready to dish it out and stand up for myself. But now? I couldn't believe I actually said that I felt like the weak link. As I replayed the line in my head, it did sound like I was pouting. I felt like an idiot.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I stopped next to a run down car. I leaned on the hood and prayed for a natural disaster to strike me down.
I fucking admitted to Dean that I wished Mary was my mom.
Oh my God.
I rapped my head against the hood.
Once.
Twice...a little harder.
Three times...harder yet.
"Keep it up and we won't trust you near the weapons."
Keeping my head on the car, I swiveled towards the voice. Dean sauntered over and parked his ass on the hood next to me. I decided to examine the hood up close so I turned my face back down.
I closed my eyes and felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "If you love me, you won't make me talk about my little PMS outburst in there, and you'll help me gank Sam when he does."
Dean smirked and poked me in the side. "I would...but you were right. So...I'm thinking we need to address that."
I peeked at him. He was staring straight ahead, avoiding my gaze at all costs. I didn't know what to say and more importantly I didn't want to say anything. He was agreeing with me...that was something, right?
I sighed and stood up, moving to stand next to him.
Dean took a deep breath. "We were...too pissed to think straight. And, I guess, scared. Sam didn't say anything, but I know he's had a bad vibe lately and when I saw the hunt I knew there was a connection. He did too. You know I trust his gut feelings and Goddammit Kate, I don't want..." he trailed off, sighing.
We stood there in silence for a few moments.
Dean nudged me with his shoulder.
We can't lose you.
I nudged him back.
I don't want to be lost.
I heard footsteps, and there was Sam, shuffling towards us, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes down.
His eyes flickered to Dean as he moved closer. Before long, I was in front of him, and Sam's arms were wrapped around me from behind. He rested his chin on the top of my head.
I'm sorry.
Dean continued softly. "Bobby reminded us..." I snorted. "Ok... chewed us out...that as dickish as Dad can be, he wouldn't shove you in front of a speeding truck. So...something else must be going on. And...if he's telling us to check it out, it's for a reason."
Finally, I admitted, "You know...I don't want to do this hunt."
I couldn't see their faces, so I'm not sure how they reacted to that confession. "It's freaking me out a little. But, yeah, there has to be a reason Dad sent it beyond just people dying. I'm having a hard time imagining what the hell that could possibly be, but I just know it's there. So...I guess I'm curious to see how he can explain this one."
I didn't trust myself to look at them, so I kept my eyes on the horizon. Sam sighed, and tightened his grip around me.
xxxxx
Eventually, we got most of our stuff packed. Dean still had some maintenance he wanted to do on the Impala, so we had a couple hours before leaving.
Despite my outburst about not wanting to be known as the girl who took care of her brothers, I noticed that we were alarmingly low on Kleenex and Tylenol. With Sam still sick, I figured a quick supply run was in order before we hit the road and were only allowed to stop for candy and grease.
I grabbed the keys to Bobby's truck and told Sam that I'd be back in an hour. He had his face buried in a pile of tissues and just nodded, unable to talk.
And that's why I'm going to the store.
As I reached the door, he croaked, "Cough drops...please…"
I turned back just as he sneezed. "Text me if you think of anything else." He nodded and sneezed again.
Christ, was he getting worse?
I got into the truck and pulled onto the road. I plugged my iPod into the stereo, enjoying the rare chance to listen to my music while driving. Eventually, I started making a mental list of things I needed to get...tissues...Tylenol...cough drops...gatorade...M&Ms...and cookies. For some reason I really wanted cookies.
If I'm making the supply run, I get to buy myself cookies.
Apparently, it was the little things.
I was trying to decide what kind to get when something slammed into the side of the truck, pushing it across the shoulder and into the field. It rolled twice and eventually stopped against a tree.
I remember seeing steam rising from under the hood and thinking, Dammit, I didn't even choose my cookies yet… Then I passed out.
xxxxx
Apparently, the ludicrous thought that I, personally, was being hunted turned out to be true. There's no other explanation for how I was taken barely down the road from Bobby's.
All those girls...dead...because of me.
I don't know how long I've been here. I don't even know where here is.
It may have been only hours, but it could have been days. Whatever took me kept a hood over my head, so I couldn't see anything and I had no concept of time.
There wasn't much information to help me figure out what I was dealing with. I just knew it wasn't human.
I could hear noises...sounds...coming from it. Sometimes it hissed, sounding almost snakelike. Othertimes it made a low growling noise, guttural and primal. Mostly, there was this...breathing. A raspy sound, that was slow and rhythmic. I could hear...feel…the thing walk around me, and I could feel its hot breath against me when it came close.
I tried to talk once...but the reply was me getting sliced across my chest.
I shut up after that.
I'm a fast learner.
It took everything in me to not react. Thankfully, the hood covered my face, so my brave facade wasn't betrayed by tears or me biting my lip to keep from crying out.
It wasn't the fear that unnerved me. It was the pain. I have a high tolerance for it - you couldn't be a Winchester and not. But this….this was beyond anything I'd ever been through.
My head pulsed painfully all the time - probably from the accident. I was handcuffed to something - a pipe, maybe? Each wrist had its own set of cuffs, and my arms were kept a fair distance apart, so I had no chance of even attempting to pick the locks.
The pipe was high enough so I could only stand. My wrists were bleeding from the metal digging into my skin, and it was getting harder and harder to relieve the pressure of my weight against the cuffs. Lately, I hung more than I stood.
Worse than that, though, were the bites. The thing went for my neck, shoulders, arms, legs, torso, back, everywhere. Sometimes, it lingered in a spot, and I could feel it lapping up the blood that dripped from the wound. Othertimes, it made several small bites in an area, as if trying to find the right spot before committing.
I could pinpoint each mark because each one fucking stung like crazy. There were more than 20 bites all over my body. I wasn't really sure though...I lost count around 20.
The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that I wouldn't be here forever. I knew my family would come. They would find me. Even if I died before they got here...they'd still find me, take me away, clean me up, and let me rest somewhere safe.
That gave me comfort.
That gave me strength.
So when I heard the door open again, and a familiar hissing/growling noise approached, I stood a little straighter (after my knees buckled the first two times), and waited to see where I would feel its breath. Where would the teeth would sink this time? Seriously, I was running out of places to be bitten.
What I didn't expect, was for the hood to be taken off my head.
I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. The creature was behind me, so I had a second to take in my surroundings. I was facing the door, which was shut once again. The room was completely bare, except for the pipe running along the length of the room.
I tried to turn my head to see behind me. The metal cuffs clinked against the pipe as I moved, but the creature stayed out of my line of vision.
Suddenly, it took hold of me at my waist, and slowly slid its hands up and down my body. I tensed, not sure what was happening. This was new. This didn't fit the pattern of the last million visits.
Slowly, the creature walked around to stand in front of me.
I gasped. This thing's face...no...her face...was mere inches from mine. Matted hair was pressed flat against her scalp, the hairline receding far back along her head. Her skin was splotchy and her face was covered in patches of blood. All around her mouth was stained a dark red, with evidence of drips down her chin that were never wiped away.
She bared her teeth at me, and I flinched. Her breath reeked of blood and rot, and her teeth were small, pointed daggers protruding from her gums.
So that's what's been nibbling on me for the past however-many hours-days…
She wasn't a vampire, of that I was certain. But what she was…I had no idea.
Still, I smirked at her - Dean was going to remove that head from those shoulders, and Sam was going to torch that corpse after Bobby doused it with kerosine.
I imagined this scenario over and over again in my mind, as I cockily moved my gaze up to her eyes.
Then I froze.
xxxxx
(13 years ago)
*Sniff* "I'm sorry Daddy...sometimes...I just...I miss her." I knew I was whining, but I couldn't help it.
John sighed, and shifted his hold so I could sit more comfortably in his lap. "I know...and I know I don't always help make that easier."
I leaned against him and buried my face in his neck. "I just wish I knew what happened, you know? What did I do that was so fucking bad that she had to leave? Why do you put up with me if she couldn't?"
Dad's grip on me tightened, and I could feel his protectiveness radiate and envelope me like a warm blanket. "You didn't do anything. There's nothing wrong with you, baby, ok? I promise you."
He was doing his best to make me feel better, and for the most part, it was working. But I could sense the hesitation in him, like he wasn't sure he was saying the right things.
"I have nothing of her. At least Dean has a picture of his mom." I knew that wasn't fair. I had 3 more years' worth of memories with my mom...even if they were crappy ones. They were still something.
Dad gently pulled me up and cupped his hand under my chin. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "Yes you do. You both have the exact same gorgeous eyes. I've never seen eyes the that color in anyone else - just you two. Look in a mirror. She's right there."
xxxxx
I blinked. Staring at me, were eyes that I've seen countless times in a mirror, countless times in my dreams, countless times in my memories.
She blinked back at me. I think she almost smiled. I swear she almost smiled...
Then there was shouting - there were men shouting, yelling...screaming...my name, beating down doors, running down corridors. I heard gunshots, grunting, orders being shouted, and more running.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and oh thank fucking God, there stood holy shit my dad, my brothers, and Bobby, blood dripping from the ends of knives, guns smoking, and all the rage and all the love in the world just radiating from them. They stood in the doorway, but they filled the room.
Dad barked sharply, "HEY!"
She turned, teeth out, a sinister growl on her lips. In two steps, Dad reached her and split her head from her shoulders. It flew across the room, smacking into the wall on the other side, and rolling to rest in a corner. The rest of her body froze, then slowly crumpled to the floor.
Time stood still for a second, then, in a frenzy...
Sam was picking the locks of the cuffs, murmuring soft words in my ears, eyes bright with unshed tears.
Dean was holding me up, trying to make eye contact, his grasp firm, his expression desperate.
Bobby was dragging the body out of the way, watching for signs of further danger.
Dad was...Dad was staring. At her. At me.
When Sam freed me, I shoved him out of the way before falling to the ground. I scrambled, trying to get to the corner.
I needed to see.
I needed to know for sure.
I already knew for sure.
Dean was trying to hold me back. Sam was frantically trying get me to respond. Bobby was sharply questioning Dad. And I…I was slipping and sliding in the blood that was still pouring from her body and spreading slowly across the floor.
Finally, somehow, I made it to the corner. Sitting on my knees, I wrapped my arms around myself and started to rock back and forth. I chewed on my lip and tears slid down my face.
It was facing the wall.
So I had to roll it over.
I didn't want to touch it, but I needed to see.
Somehow the room fell silent. I'm guessing Dad made the guys back off. I could feel the worry pouring from them, but I pushed it out of my mind. I couldn't focus on that right now.
Right now, I just. Fucking. Needed to see.
Dad crouched down next to me. He whispered something softly, but I couldn't understand him. He reached out and rolled it towards us.
There they were. There were my eyes...Mom's eyes...staring blankly at nothing...but there they were...attached to the head of this hideous thing.
Dad looked at me, his face set, only his eyes betraying the whirlwind of emotion running through him. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. I was thinking there was a massive bite wound there...but I couldn't feel it.
I couldn't feel him.
I couldn't feel anything.
I stared at my dad and whispered in a broken voice, "...Daddy?"
He opened his mouth to say something, but I slipped into unconsciousness before he spoke a single word.
xxxxx
"...Christ...Dean...look, another one….here, too..."
"...don't know...fuck...her mom? Oh God..….fuck…"
"..idjit's...not talking...bottle.."
"Shit...get...wrist it's...yeah, I know Sam...right there…"
xxxxx
Words ghosted over me and served as a reminder of where I was and who was there. That was good enough for now. I figured everyone knew the truth, and I was thankful that Dad told them - how the hell do you have that conversation?
Yeah, sorry I didn't get back with the Kleenex, but um, my mom? Who dumped me when I was a kid? Yeah, she's totally a monster now and she tried to kill me and stuff...
So instead, I slept.
Eventually I was able to process what I heard, and the fragments became more complete. I almost felt guilty - this was like eavesdropping. But it took waaaaay too much effort to move, and I wasn't even sure I could. My body wasn't responding the way I thought it should.
"...gonna get more gauze. Need to change the bandages again. She's fucking bleeding through half of them already."
*Sigh* "Yeah, ok." *Sniff* "I'll start unwrapping these here…"
...
"Fuck...Sam...bless you..Jesus...here...blow for Chrissake…"
"...Dean, I...Goddammit...sorry..." *Sigh*
"Dude, it's okay... you just need to lay down and get some rest. You're worse than you were yesterday."
…
"Awesome, your fever's back."
"Stop feeling me up, I'm fine. Just, c'mon. Let's get her fixed up." *Sigh*
"Yeah….okay. Hold her here…"
I could feel gentle hands on me, unwrapping and rewrapping bandages. Something cool was placed on every bite. I was aware that there was barely any pain...I'm guessing I was pumped full of something really good.
"Hey...go take a shower. Maybe the steam will help, ok?"
…
"Sam. Shower."
"Okay...okay...I'll be right back. If she..."
"I know, Sammy. I've got her. Go."
A door closed, and I heard yet another deep sigh. I couldn't take it anymore. I forced...no, peeled...an eyelid open. Then the other one. A very fuzzy looking Dean was sitting nearby, his head low, cradled in his hands.
Somehow, I managed to nudge his knee. His head came up sharply and his eyes found mine. They were bloodshot, ringed with dark circles. He took a ragged breath and ran a hand down his face.
"Hey...fuck...hey there...um...how are you? Want some water?"
I blinked slowly and attempted a smile. I thought moving would be hard, but speaking was proving to be the more difficult task.
I closed my eyes, and before long a glass appeared at my lips.
"Just a little, ok? You know the drill."
Dean held my head up and tipped the glass towards my mouth. Only a little got past my lips and down my throat before I felt a sharp pain at the back of my neck. I winced, the glass disappeared, and I was slowly lowered back onto the pillow. The water felt good, though, and I was disappointed that I couldn't have more.
"How're you feeling?" Dean came and sat next to me on the bed, reaching out to smooth my hair.
I turned to look up at him, and rolled my eyes.
Not dead...relax...
Dean huffed and smiled. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were wet, his expression pained.
I was so fucking scared...
His hand moved to my cheek, caressing it gently. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes.
Yeah…me too…
The door opened, and in walked Sam, hair wet from his shower, pulling on a t-shirt. Dean abruptly wiped his eyes and sat a little straighter.
"Hey - look who decided to grace us with her presence."
Sam froze for a second, eyes darting from Dean to the bed and his gaze met mine. He stood very still for another moment, as if not sure if I was really awake. Deciding to help him along, I made a rude gesture with the one hand that agreed to work.
That did the trick, because the next thing I knew, Sam was in bed with me, talking softly about how scared they were, what they'd been doing since I went missing, how sorry he was, and the whole time, his hands were nervously in my hair, touching my face, running through his own hair.
Finally, Dean had enough. "Jesus, Sam, she just woke up."
I smiled at that and mumbled, "...Mmmmm...s'ok…"
Sam paused and in a cheeky tone, said, "See? It's ok. Shut up."
Dean rolled his eyes, stood, and went to the dresser. "Take these before you forget." I heard a pill bottle rattle and he held out his hand to Sam. Wordlessly, Sam took the pills and swallowed them.
I raised my eyebrows.
What did I miss?
Sam lay back down next to me and coughed into the crook of his arm. "Cold's back. That's all."
A sweatshirt came flying across the room to land on Sam's head. "Put that on, too."
Sam huffed, but obediently put the shirt on. I reached up to touch his face, warm with a fever, and closed my eyes as it fell back to the bed. I sighed.
Fuck...I'm sorry…
Sam burrowed his face next to mine.
Not your fault.
Opening my eyes, I looked groggily at both boys. "...Dad?"
Sam looked up, exchanging worried looks with Dean.
You.
No...you.
I growled.
Dean sat next to me and rubbed his eyes. "He's fine. And...he's not fine. He's barely said anything since we got you back." He paused and glanced at Sam, who was lying very still, watching me, playing with my hair. "He did tell us who...that it...she...fuck. We know, Kate." He sighed and rubbed his eyes again. "Dad's just been drinking and I think waiting for you to wake up."
I nodded and closed my eyes again. I wasn't ready for that conversation.
xxxxx
"Well, look who can walk down stairs." Bobby stood at the stove, spatula in one hand, beer in the other, smiling like it was Christmas morning.
I gingerly walked over to him, Sam hovering at my side, Dean scowling behind me.
"Hey, Bobby...felt sooo fucking good to pee. Words cannot describe…"
He chuckled as he put down the beer. He carefully wrapped me in a bear hug, and pressed his forehead to mine. We stood there for a second, then he roughly kissed me on the forehead.
"Hungry?"
"A little," I admitted, rubbing my stomach. "But things are still a mess from all the pills Dean keeps shoving down my throat." I risked a quick glance at my brother, who stood leaning against a wall with his arms folded and eyes glaring at me.
"You shouldn't be down here. You said you were just going to the bathroom."
Sam chose that moment to sneeze violently in some Kleenex before coughing and blowing his nose.
Dean turned and pointed at Sam. "You're on my shitlist, too. You're also supposed to be in bed."
He tried to give Dean his kicked puppy look, but ruined it by sneezing so hard it left him dizzy and needing to lean on the wall for support.
Dean's eyes darkened. He was about to launch into a massive tirade when the back door opened and banged shut. In walked Dad, a little unsteady on his feet. He looked like complete shit, as if he hadn't eaten, slept or showered in days.
"Bobby, I..." He trailed off as soon as he saw me, still in Bobby's arms. Everything fell silent, until Bobby cleared his throat a little louder than necessary.
He dropped his arms from me and said, "C'mon boys…" He picked up his beer and walked towards the study, taking Sam by the arm on the way. Dean lingered a moment, before reluctantly pushing himself off the wall and following Bobby out of the room.
Dad and I faced each other awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
Me: So...thanks for killing mom…
Dad: My pleasure…
Riiiiight.
I hadn't spoken to him in the few days I'd been conscious. It wasn't by choice - he simply wasn't around. From what Bobby told me, he's been keeping to himself, drinking and working on his truck. He's always kept himself at a distance, but this was extreme.
Then again, I guess this was an extreme circumstance.
Dad cleared his throat, went to the sink and washed his hands. After drying them on a towel, he stood leaning against the counter, his back to me.
Suddenly, Dad turned to face me. He motioned his head in the direction of the door, one eyebrow raised.
I nodded and slowly made my way across the room. Dad's hand was on my elbow, guiding me through the door, down a couple stairs and then steadying me as I sat. I released a breath I didn't know I was holding when my ass touched the steps. This was most activity I'd had in days. Maybe Dean was right and I shouldn't have come downstairs.
Dad sat heavily next to me and ran a hand down his face. It reminded me so much of Dean that I laughed a little. He gave me a questioning look.
"Dean does that exact same hand-face thing. You just looked like him for a second."
Dad grunted and nodded his head. "He started doing that when he was 5...just when Sam started walking. I think he knew he was in trouble after that."
We both chuckled, and then fell silent once more. I scooted closer to him, and leaned my head on his shoulder.
"Thanks for finding me." Lame thing to say, but it's all I had. And I meant it.
Dad's arms were around me and he kissed my head.
After a moment he let one arm fall back to his lap, and leaned his head against mine. "I was supposed to meet you at the last set of coordinates, " he said softly. "I was working out a plan, and waiting for Dean to tell me you guys were on your way before giving more directions. I wanted...to talk to you before we did anything. I wasn't sure...I still wasn't sure until…." He sighed, and I replied in kind.
"But instead of telling me you were on the road, he called to say…" His voice broke at this point, and he swallowed a few times before continuing. "Jesus I...I couldn't get here fast enough. I had some leads...and by the time I got here, Bobby and the boys had more...and...God I just wish we found you sooner."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I just nodded, gripping his hand, and pressing further against him, wanting his strength, wanting his courage, wanting him to erase the memory of her eyes staring blankly.
We stayed like that for a while, and the silence was peaceful and protective. I didn't want to ruin it, but I had to ask.
"Dad...what...what was she?"
Dad sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly? I'm not sure. She wasn't venomous or anything like that. So there's no worry about you … you know."
I sighed with relief, thankful that he finally answered the million dollar question: Would I turn into whatever she was?
Dad continued, "Bobby figured out why she was looking for you."
That got my attention.
"He thinks she needed your blood...to stay alive. He did more research while you were...Yeah, he did more digging, and turns out there were even more girls gone missing or turning up dead. She was tracking you somehow...not sure how...and seeing as how we killed every creature that was in that place with her...I don't know that we'll get any answers soon."
I swallowed, "I guess that fits with what she was doing. She would...bite...and then...lick it or kinda..lap up the blood. She wasn't interested in anything else. I mean, she didn't...um...eat any part of me." I paused and looked at Dad "I love our talks."
Dad smiled and gently nudged me with his shoulder.
"What else did Bobby learn? And why my blood?" I didn't really want to ask, but I really...kind of...wanted to know.
Dad rubbed his eyes. He looked really tired. "He's guessing it's a genetic thing, that maybe human blood genetically linked to her is what she needed to keep going. I don't have a clue if she really knew what she was doing. I mean she knew...I just mean...I don't think it was really her anymore."
He stared down at the steps. "I'm so sorry, Kate."
I cleared my throat. "Well, there is a bright side...I mean...I guess this is better than thinking she just didn't want me anymore…"
Dad laughed.
xxxxx
I recovered slowly over the next few days, but slow was better than not at all. I'm fairly confident that I had needed a hospital, but how does one explain multiple bite wounds, handcuff abrasions and head trauma? Yeah….Bobby's and pills will do just fine, thanks.
Once dad was satisfied with my prognosis, he took to the road once more. I know he had a few talks with the boys about vague leads and tentative plans, and then he was gone. His need to be always searching outweighed pretty much everything else.
I understood that.
But this time, I really didn't like it.
The severing of that one connection to everything that was not Winchester (even though it was Winchester) hit me harder than I thought it would. I felt alone.
Even though I wasn't.
Ever.
Literally.
I expected the three of them to tag team babysitting me. What I didn't expect, was to crave it. I dozed on the couch while Bobby handled paperwork at his desk. I sat in the sun while Dean worked on the Impala. I lay next to Sam as he researched on his laptop.
My only solitude was in the bathroom, and I'm pretty sure someone was camped outside the door, even if they were gone by the time I finished. Which...yeah, even that, I was grateful for.
Tonight, I was restless. I was in my bedroom looking online at a blog called "Monsters That Bite" (seriously….) when Sam walked in. I quickly shut down the laptop and looked up at him. "Hey…"
He watched me for a few seconds, eyes searching my face. "You're supposed to be sleeping."
"I know." I played with the gauze around my wrist. "Can't...so…"
Sam nodded at the laptop. "So….what, porn?" He snickered.
I smiled wryly, "Yeah...monster biting porn. All fucking...plotless."
Sam paused for a second, then shut the lights and lay down next to me.
I sighed. "We'll get in trouble."
Sam huffed and said, "It'll be fine. He's just in hyper-worried-guilt mode. I'm still a little sick, you're…" he gestured vaguely at me with his hand, "...all that...and he can't fix anything."
I didn't say anything - there wasn't anything to say. We've been dealing with Dean's protectiveness and guilt for...well, ever.
I rolled onto my side and watched Sam watching me. I could feel him assessing how I was doing, and oddly, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was easier than talking.
"Talk to me."
Gah….
I sighed, "What do you want me to say, Sam?"
"I dunno - anything...you've shut down, and I can't get a read on you at all. It's...scaring me." He sighed. "I don't know what to do to help."
What was I supposed to say? Sorry, Sam, I just really miss Dad...he was the last connection I had to my mom, I wanted to be with him for a little while longer, and he just fucking up and left again.
I played with the gauze on my wrist.
"Wait...It's Dad….isn't it? You wanted him to stay…"
Fuck, I think too loudly.
Sam laughed a little. "You think too loudly."
Goddammit…
Grimacing, I slowly rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. Sam was being patient, toying with my hair, just...waiting. I let out a dejected sigh.
"Fuck, Sam, I dunno what to say...honestly, I don't. I have these thoughts swirling around, and these feelings mixing in with them...and it's all a fucking mess. I feel like I still can't even process what happened, let alone express it to someone."
Sam tugged a little harder on my hair until I turned to face him. He looked so worried, and that made me feel guilty.
"I'm sorry…"
Sam scoffed, "There's nothing to be sorry for. You've just...closed up. I can't tell what you're thinking..what you're feeling...when you do that. I don't know what the hell to say to make this better. I don't think there is anything I can say to make this better. But I need to know what's going on in there, so I can tell if you want some space, someone to hit, if you need to talk, whatever. I just...fuck...I want to fix this..."
He squirmed. "But I mean...not that this is about me…"
We both laughed, and I pulled on his hair. "Riiiiiight. Look, the thing with Dad...it's not that I want him here more than I want you or Dean around...and it isn't like I think he can fix something you guys can't."
Sam shook his head, "No...I know that. I'm not upset or jealous, if that's what you mean."
I searched Sam's tone and expression - I wanted to make sure his feelings weren't hurt.
"I mean it, Kate. It's ok. I think I get it. Christ, I'm not that insecure."
I raised an eyebrow and smirked. Now Sam pulled my hair. Hard.
"Ow!" I swatted his arm. "God, this just feels so fucked up. And then at the same time, it doesn't seem that complicated. Something turned her...that's why she left...I get it now, and while I'm not really keen on the whole 'my mom was a monster' bit, at least her leaving wasn't … I mean...it wasn't me," I finished softly.
Sam's hand was on my cheek, "Jesus, Kate, how could it have been you? You were seven, for Chrissake."
"I don't know..that's just how it's always felt," I said, a little harsher than I meant to. As if he should have known this all along. "I didn't say it made sense. And now Dad...he's the only one who can remember her like I did...even if she was a one night fuck for him. He can remember her as a person, not that...thing. Now, when you think of my mom... that's what you think of."
I could fucking feel the goddamn tears just rolling down my face, but I didn't have the energy to stop them, and to tell the truth, I was really tired of holding them back.
Sam reached out and wiped my tears. "Is that what you think of now? When you think of her?"
Fuck. Bingo.
All I could do is nod. "It's harder now...to remember anything from before. It's like it didn't exist."
Sam considered this, and responded, "Well, I don't know if this is a consolation or not...but for me? I don't think of your mom...at all...because for me, there is no time before you were with us. You were always with us. I have no memories of my mom. Nothing. For Dean and Dad, she's a real person...to me, she's this mythical goddess we honor and worship all the time, and I have no connection to her. I mean, I miss her, and I love her, and I fucking wish she were still here but….it's all so...detached. But you...you're real, and your memories of your mom are real, and how could I think of your mom as a monster, when she gave us you?"
Oh, fuck him.
I lost it at that point, practically shoving myself into his arms and just sobbing. I think he cried with me - and fuck if that didn't make me feel better. Knowing that he felt my pain and he hurt with me...it made me feel like I did belong here.
xxxxx
Dean quietly knocked on the door sometime later. Sam and I had passed out - two little kids who cried themselves to sleep. I vaguely heard the door open, and heard him huff at the sight of us. I imagined him dragging his hand down his face, just like Dad.
No...just like Dean.
The weight of a thick blanket covered me, and I felt Sam snuggle in it, his arms wrapping tighter around me. The bed dipped as Dean sat down, and I felt a hand running through my hair. I could smell Dean's soap, feel the familiar callouses on his fingers as they brushed my scalp, and the sense of safety and affection warmed me more than the blanket.
Dean shifted, and lay down, his arm brushing my shoulder as he reached over to Sam, checking for fever. A soft grunt told me Sam was fine, that Dean took care of that, and now he would fix me, too.
I reached a hand behind me, and grabbed his shirt, pulling him close. I knew his face wore a smile as he scooted closer, his need to be needed satisfied, and my need for him, met as well.
Go back to sleep. I got you.
As always, I obeyed.
xxxxx
-End-