Some Kind of Monster
The Darkness around me was not something to be feared, but more of a comfort after a very long day. Something in me nagged, insisting that it was dangerous to be in a completely dark room. Like I needed to be weary of the monsters that I KNEW were in my closet.
But another part of me just wanted to go to sleep, it was safe after all, in my room at my cozy home. What could harm me? That didn't keep me from sleeping with a freshly sharpened switchblade on my night stand however.
This had been a habit that I had acquired over the last few weeks. I had no idea why. One day I just couldn't go to sleep at night, thinking of all the things hiding in the darkness. Probably the result of watching too much of my favorite show too late at night. Maybe I should turn on a light in the hall or something?
Molly's nose, cold on my skin, nuzzled up against my arm, forcing it to slide over her head and lay heavily on her back. This made all thoughts of leaving this safe place next to her slip from my mind.
She was an old dog, but everything about her implied that Molly was still the careless age of a pup. The way she excitedly jumped around my room after a bath, or how she eagerly awaited me to wake up in the morning, looking up at me through her thick black hair that most Scottish terriers had.
Now that I thought about it, looking at her sleeping form against my side, she was in desperate need of a hair cut. Winter would be over soon and the last thing I wanted was for her to suffer from heat exhaustion.
My mind rushed with all the tasks to be completed the following day. School, the fridge needed to be restocked, and I had about 3 books that were imperative that I read before the end of the month, only a couple weeks away. I sighed, Unable to find the will to get up and do something. My limbs and head were suddenly very heavy and I could not tear them from the mattress.
My eyes drooped closed, almost against my will. The Darkness kissing my body with its heavy embrace. I let sleep take me.
My Dreams slowly faded into the realm of reality, someone was speaking. It sounded so far away but it was defiantly a voice. My mind sharpened but for some reason I couldn't move my heavy body at all. As if I was still in the embrace of the darkness. I was suddenly reminded of why I slept with that knife next to me.
"Come on we need to get going. I doubt that anything is going to change while where gone." This voice was of a man, I was sure of it. Soft, gentle even. It spoke cautiously but still with undertones of urgency. It was laced with something. Pity? Sorrow? I was unsure.
"I don't feel right leaving. Sam, We should call someone " . The second voice made a ghost shiver run down my spine. Belonging to a man as well, it was gruff and harsh; he spoke abruptly as if the first man had said something unthinkable. The first man sighed.
"I don't feel right about it either Dean" Dean? Why did that name sound so familiar, My mind somehow linked it to the second mans voice with ease, as if from some distant memory, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't conjure a face. "But two more people have already been killed." The first voice continued gently, but still urgently.
"She wouldn't want us to sit idly by while innocents die."
Suddenly there was a course hand on my arm. It gently caressed from my elbow to my hand. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in alarm. This stranger was invading my space; if I had the strength to move any part of my body I would have slapped his arm away. Instead I had to sit like a potato, and just let it all happen.
His hand grasped tightly around my limp one, then gently let go.
"Yeah….." the voice belonging to 'Dean' almost whispered. "Your right" He sighed. Dean stood from the bed, making it shake with the relief of the lack of extra weight. "She wouldn't want this" someone's breath disturbed the hair laying carelessly on my forehead. It was met with the unmistakable feeling of someone's lips, then a hand brushing the hair away. I couldn't help but feel a little violated by this, but unfortunately was unable to do anything about it.
Heavy footsteps led away from me, then another pare. A door opened then slammed closed. I was left to the darkness once again. Something that made shiver run down my neck and spine in fear. The darkness closing in on me once again. I resisted it at first but found it to be far too strong for me. I fell once again.
Something warmed the side of my face. A Fire of an unknown origin. Slowly the eyes that had seamed to be super glued shut began to pry themselves open. I was met with a blinding light from a nearby window. It warmed my face in a pleasant way, but with it shining directly in my eye it was impossible to see my surroundings. My arm felt like it had been cemented to the bed, but I forced it to rise to protect my eyes from the invading light.
Looking around, I realized to my utter horror, that I was no longer in the confines of my bedroom. Instead I was in a room that could only be described by the color brown. Crappy wallpaper assaulted me from all directions. The carpet was no better. Horrible patterns of triangles and circles battered my senses. I could only assume by what I saw, that I was in some rundown motel room, one that seams strangely familiar and foreign all at the same time. Like I had never seen it before but knew with absolute certainty that there was a gun in the nightstand, and a 12 pack of beer in the mini fridge.
Looking to the nightstand, I reluctantly reached over and opened the drawer. An action that to my surprise was more difficult then I would have thought, what with my heavy limbs weighing me down. Once I managed to pry the drawer open with my limp hand, Sure enough, what I saw was a small bible and a revolver. Retracting my hand in fear, of what I had just predicted, I tried to sit up. I was met with instant pain in my stomach. Giving out a cry in agony, I lifted my shirt, which gave the same feeling as the room, known yet unknown.
Horror washed over my face at what I saw hidden under the grey V-neck T-shirt I wore. A bandaged soaked in blood clung to my flesh just below my bra, it didn't look very old, like someone had caringly changed it recently. Did I dare lift the gauze? The medical tape pulled at my skin as I pealed it away. Underneath was a very ugly very deep looking gash through my flesh. The deep read mark hurt to the touch and tearing the bandage off was agony in itself, I dared not probe it any more then simply stare in horror. It looked as if someone had very unprofessionally stitched it up with dark blue cotton sewing thread. My jaw hung open with pain and surprise. What the hell was going on.
Forcing my legs to swing over the side of the bed was utter torment. Every movement sent jolts of pain through my entire body. My head was throbbing with what I could only assume felt like a concussion. But from what? It wasn't just the hack job on my abdomen that hurt, or my splitting head. My very bones felt as if every single one of them was bruised in some way. I managed to get into a sitting position on the bed, not an easy feat, then willed my legs to support myself to try and stand, I instantly fell to my knees. I prayed that I hadn't torn the horrible stitch job on my stomach, as I grasped the nightstand for support. It took all the strength in my body to find my footing and steady myself into a standing position.
What was all this? Where the hell was I? How had I been transported from my warm bed in the middle of the night to this nightmare place? Who where those men? Sam and Dean? They where talking about people dying! And who was the SHE they where talking about. The woman that was the source of 'Dean's distress of leaving. They couldn't have been talking about me… Could they? I lifted a hand to my forehead, which I realized was glazed with sweat. I couldn't stay here I resolved. This place was strange, tingling to my senses, and I didn't want to spend anymore time here then was absolutely necessary.
Looking around the room for something, anything to help me, I saw a pair of boots. Looking down at my feet I observed that apart from my socks my feet where bare. To bare for an escape, I realized. I didn't care if they fit, the boots where all I had.
Sitting on the bed again unlacing the boots so my feet would slide into them easily I noticed that strangely they were my exact size. How odd. What would those men need with a girls size boots. A thought washed over me of something familiar nagging at me to look closer, but I quickly brushed it off.
As I reached down to put the boots on, I noticed something hidden under my sock. I pulled it down to reveal a small tattoo. It was of a sun with a pentagram in it. Something I had absolutely no memory of what so ever. This both shocked and horrified me to my core. When had this happened? Perhaps while I was unconscious? But why would those men tattoo my ankle while I slept. The thought was absurd. But just like everything else, the tattoo felt VERY familiar. I had even thought to my self how I had wanted to get a tattoo in this exact spot eventually, but never had the time or money to get one. How could those men of known of something I had never even told my parents or closest friends? The pentagram, I thought, despite its bad repetition of being a pagan symbol, was actually suppose to be a ward from evil. Marveling at it, my finger traced the symbol, gaining some sort of strange comfort from it. It wasn't new however. The scar of the tattoo had been long healed. My head spun with confusion.
Finally able to find the strength to leave the motel room I passed a mirror. My image caught my eye, surprised at what I saw. I was I, of course. But then I wasn't as well. My face had marks on it, I had never seen before. My features were older and more mature then from the last time I had looked in a mirror. My hair was well past my shoulders when last it had been nearly below my ears. How was that possible? I looked closer at the image of the woman I saw before me; she mirrored my every move strangely. A very faint silver scar reached across her cheek. My finger traced it. It was old. Far healed and had faded with time, but still there just them same.
I was suddenly assaulted with a memory, or at least I thought it was a memory, however I did not feel familiar, like I was seeing it all for the first time. Black eyes flashed across my sight, a dagger tarring into my flesh. The hopeless feeling of looking at it, wrapped in a bloody bandage and all, knowing that I would never be beautiful again. Not like before. I felt a ghost caress my other cheek, rough hands, abused by work, and a voice that sent shivers down my spine in all the right ways tell me that I would always be the most beautiful person they had ever seen.
With a gasp I was brought back to the motel room. My hands where claws, gripping tightly on the small end table sitting in front of the mirror. Fingernails dug into the defenseless wood. Panting I looked up to meet my eyes once again.
"Who ARE you?" I breathed. The voice that came out didn't sound like me. Maybe an aged tormented me. But not who I was a "night" ago.
Outside the motel, the ground was littered with snow, not a delicate blanket, more like the scraps from a long dry winter. Desperately hoping to find some sibilance of help or information I made my way to the front office of the motel. I stumbled into the main office, pain meeting me with every step. I desperately held my stomach for some sort of relief, but to no success.
The man at the hotel counter was balding, his dark hair hung in patches on the top of his head. He sat on a stool which I could tell he was barely able to touch the ground on, probably not able to reach the counter bellow his chest if not. He looked up at me quizzically from his book that he had been reading when I walked in. At first he met me with a rehearsed smile, but it quickly morphed to concern when he saw how I was holding myself up, barley able to walk without limping.
"Mrs. Seager!? Are you alright?" Befuddled I nodded unsure. Mrs. Seager? Was that who I was? Or was this man mistaking me for some one else?
"I- I need your help with something" the words stumbled out. The man still looking at me with concern, he then got up from his stool and rushed over to me as if I was about to collapse on the floor right then and there, he was just as short as I had predicted.
"Yes anything, what can I help you with?"
"Well" I started thinking of a good lie. "I-I uh, hit my head" letting a fake laugh slip "slipped on some ice, I can be so clumsy sometimes" I forced a laugh out at my mock stupidity "and I just wanted to make sure I don't have a concussion or something." The man cocked his head, giving me a sidelong glance; He then looked me up and down trying to decide what I was going to say next. "Would you mind telling me where I am? Just to make sure I've got it all right" I'm pretty sure he wasn't buying my fake smile, from the way he looked at me I'm sure he thought I was crazy.
"uh…" he put his book down on a nearby counter, and pushed his glassed up from the bridge of his nose. "Mrs. Seager, do you want me to call you husband, he left me his number in case of-"
"no!" I cut him off. Instantly knowing that he must have meant one of the men from before. I didn't want them anywhere near me until I found out what the hell was going on.
Looking down I saw a pamphlet sitting on the counter announcing 'WELCOME TO UTAH, HOME OF THE GREAT ARCHES" my breath caught. Utah? I was in Utah!? At least 18 hours drive from my bed in southern California. What the actual fuck!?
"Um Mrs. Seger" the man coughed into his hand, grabbing my attention, I could tell my mouth was probably hitting the floor by now, but I didn't give a rats ass at this point. "Did you want to keep that?" pointing to the pamphlet that was being crumpled in my claw of a hand. My eyes shifted from him to the pamphlet then back again.
"Yeah….. Thanks" I said breathlessly then shoved it into my pocket, turned on my heals, and walked out. I'm pretty sure that the best course of action was to just walk away, but I'm also pretty sure I saw him through the window, pick up the phone and dial after I left.
Despite the snow, it actually wasn't really that cold. Normally I would be freezing in anything close to this weather, what with being from the golden state and all. The sun warmed my flesh to a reassemble temperature, and I let myself bask in it momentarily. Even so, walking the streets with my arms hugged around my body wasn't keeping me as warm as I had hoped.
I ducked into a diner at the end of the street, about a block or two away from the motel. A safe distance to my standards I thought as I pushed my way in to the door. Finding a booth by the window I settle myself in. Thankfully the place was heated, almost uncomfortable so.
My consciousness drifted to the wrapped silver ware in front of me. I carefully slipped the paper band off of the napkin and placed it on my index and middle finger. Someone else had done this recently, in this same diner. I used my thumb to make it spin on my two fingers.
"I wonder how much money they spend just mass-producing all these little things" a ghost voice rang in my head. Another vision? "I mean there at like every restaurant I've ever been at. Why not just save the money and spend it on improving the quality of the food" the voice was mine. A deep coarse voice responded.
"seams like pretty good food to me" stuffing a hamburger into his gaping hole of a mouth then chewing it into submission. The gentle mans voice spoke.
"Foods food. I don't think it really matters that much what they put on the napkins" the second man replied.
"What'll It be hun" I looked up to see a waitress standing before me, bringing me out of my haze. She impatiently waited for me to responded, her hand on her hip the other holding a little flip notebook and a pen between her index finger and the pad. Did I even have money? I quickly plunged my hand into my pockets; I was pleasantly surprised to feel a plastic card. Begging it wasn't the hotel key I produced a master card out of the pocket. Master card, I thought, nice. The signature stated that it belonged to a Rachel smith, whoever that was. Would they even ask for ID? Or a pin? I prayed not.
I looked back up at the woman, she raised her eyebrows and gave me, a strained smile as if saying 'yeah good job you discovered what a credit card is'
"I'll just have a coffee for now." My stomach gave a gurgle in protest. "And a bagel please" the woman scribbled something in her note pad then walked off not saying a word of reply or even an indication that she had heard me.
My attention was drawn to the window as a very loud roar blared past; the creature that had produced it was a black vintage car passing by on the street as if in a desperate hurry. It was a gorgeous car, I thought to myself. And in very good condition! The shine of it reflected sunlight into my eyes, making me wince. I would kill for a car like that, I sighed. Always having a love of Chevy's, I recognized it as an impala, maybe a 68, or 7.
A mug was placed in front of me, black and piping hot. The waitress walked off as if I wasn't even sitting here.
"Can I have some creamer?!" I called after her. She ignored me of course. Nice place. My beagle came shortly after. Cold and hard as a rock. Barely even touching the bread brick, I paid the check and left no tip.
As I got up out of the booth, carefully to not over exert myself and rip my makeshift stitches, I herd a familiar roar pulling into the parking lot of the diner. Two men got out of the Impala. Both clad in flannel and work boots. They looked like lumber jacks, I thought to myself, especially the tall one with the majestic mane of hair. Maybe that was common in a place like this.
They seamed certainly out of their element however. A nearby man halted to admire the beautiful car; the two men didn't stop to converse. They looked as if they had purpose and were not willing to put it aside to make idle conversation with the locals
Making my leave, I had to push past them on my out. Even I couldn't deny how attractive they where. They were nothing but muscles rippling under their flannel shirts. The tall one had long flowing brown hair and piercing hazel eyes. The shorter of the two had the sleeves of his flannel shirt pushed up to his elbows, revealing his rippling muscles beneath; I had always found that insanely attractive in a man. However the heavy smell of something like wet soil, and leather made me keep walking.
The shorter one took a double take at me in surprise as I left them behind. I felt a rough hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. This made me feel a little intruded upon; I spun around to give this stranger a piece of my mind. As I turned I found myself staring into deep emerald eyes that made my breath catch in my throat.
"Jane!" The man spoke. The second man, the taller one with the long hair, turned around to look at us. He let out a big sigh in relief when he saw me, as if we had met before. The shorter man spoke up in a reprimanding tone. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been? What the hell were you thinking? Leaving like that not saying anything? You can barely even stand up on your own!"
He pulled me into a tight full-bodied hug, making sure to wrap his arms entirely around my waist, something I really was not expecting. He sighed into my neck as he embraced me. My body was ridged as I decided how to handle this; clearly they had mistaken me for someone else entirely. Someone who shared my name… The man seamed to not notice how stiff my body was however
"I wasn't sure if you were ever going to wake up" it was the other mans turn to reprimand me now for reasons I had no idea why.
"Where were you even trying to go Jane? You should have waited for us" I finally found words.
"Uh do I know you?" The man whose arms I was in, pulled away to look at my face, the look he gave me could have made a grown man recoil in fear.
"Jane…. Its me, Dean." Dean… the man from the room, the one who had kissed my forehead without my permission and who was now gripping uncomfortably tight to my arms. Something like fear washed over me. My face must have shone what I was feeling because Dean's expressions softened. "Wait, you don't know who I am?" I shook my head fearfully, trying to shrug out of his grip; he was actually starting to kind of hurt me now.
"Can you please let go of me?" I ordered. His hands flew off of me as he realized how tight he was actually gripping me. He backed away from me raising his hands in the air as if to show me he meant me no harm. Unconsciously I think I took a few steps back as well. Sam, the other man from before spoke as if trying to comfort a baby deer or something
"its okay." He started to take a step towards me, in which I reacted by taking a step back as well. People around the diner were starting to stare.
I turned on my heels thinking better to simply leave the situation and walked out, praying they wouldn't follow me, but also, in a dark tucked away part of my brain hoping they did.
Fast walking down the street away from the Diner, I noticed over my shoulder that they were indeed following me. And to my horror they where gaining faster then I would have liked.
Stepping into an alley hoping to avoid them I broke out in a full on sprint. An action that with my nearly torn open wound was difficulty painful. To my dismay they had already predicted what I would do and were close behind at my heels. I did all I could to get them off my tail, I ran up a nearby flight of stairs, jumping over a wall on the other side, then another, climbing over a short fence just beyond that. Which in my state probably wasn't the best course of action, and finding it extremely hard to push forward I willed my legs to keep moving. My combat boots hitting the pavement furiously. But despite my efforts they stayed at an uncomfortable distance behind me.
Finding myself at the top of a second floor landing I hit a dead end at the balcony's edge. Desperately looking behind me I found them yards away. Heart racing I found only one option in my path, knowing that if it worked, I would be home free, but also knowing that if It didn't…. I sucked in a sharp breath of air, giving one more glance behind, me then I vaulted the wall enclosing the balcony.
I fell to the concrete bellow hard, knees collapsing below me, my elbow and legs colliding with the unforgiving ground. A shriek of pure agony escaped my lips, as I felt my stomach rip. From atop the balcony I saw the two men looking down at me.
"Jane!" Dean roared, with equal parts furry as fear. I must have hit my head because my eyes started to blur with little black dots. The last thing I remember seeing was the two men running back to the stairs on the other side of the balcony, probably to collect my unconscious body below. I didn't find out. For the third time that day, I gave into the darkness's deep embrace.
There was a stabbing pain in my abdomen. My lids flew open. Dean's bright green eyes hung over me, determined and also tormented as I screamed in agony. The other one, Sam, held me down as Dean dug the sterile needle into my raw flesh for the second time. No matter how much I shrieked they didn't stop. Someone placed a dirty tasting rag in my mouth to bite down on. But all it did was muffle the screams. Maybe that's what they wanted. For no one to hear as they tortured me.
"Hold her still Sammy! I need to close these stitches before she bleeds out."
"I'm TRYING Dean!" The pain continued but I never stopped struggling.
"Dammit Jane keep still!" Dean barked at me. Hot tears streamed down my face and pooled on my collarbone. When would the pain stop? I wanted to die. But something in me claimed that this was not the worst pain I had ever felt. Suddenly a searing pain coerced through me originating from where Dean was working, it felt like molting lava, but smelt like whiskey. Then a gauze bandage sealed it all in. A new one this time.
Sam finally let go of my arms, getting up off the bed and making sure that all the old bandages and stitches were disposed of. I immediately took the opportunity and lifted my arms up defensively to protect myself from further harm, but Dean's hand grabbed them and placed them back at my sides, despite my struggle he was a strong man, much stronger then I was, I gave up, realizing it was useless and not having the energy to continue further.
He caressed my forehead lovingly, wiping the sweat away gently. I felt a surge of anger as this man took liberties to touch me, what gave him the right? He gazed into my fear stricken eyes with his own bright green ones, which I now realized were the most piercing shade of the color I had ever seen in my life. If my heart wasn't already racing from fear and rage, I swore it would have skipped a beat. He shushed me tenderly, an action that infuriated me.
"Its okay. Your okay now" that was it, I was NOT okay. Now that Sam and Dean were no longer holding me down, my arms were free. I took control of my closed fist and met it with Dean's jaw. He went reeling backwards over the bed he had been sitting on the edge of, holding his hand to his face in pain, and shock. "What the Hell?!" he roared.
Before he had a chance to regain his composure I bolted up off the bed, feeling Dean's handiwork rip painfully. Agony coerced through me suddenly, and I crumple upon myself. Dean made a gesture as if he was going to pick my crippled body off of the floor but I swatted him away. I didn't care if I had ripped the newly sewn stitching, I had to get out of this room, Away from these men who wanted to hurt me. I had to get home.
Getting closer to the door I felt arms wrap around me. Sam had grabbed hold of me from behind. Franticly I convulsed for freedom but none was to be had.
"Just calm down" he said.
"Let go of me! God dammit!"0
"I'm not going to let go of you until you calm down" his voice was soft in my ear. I felt his breath caress the side of my face. My breathing steadied if only for the promise of freedom. Sam's arms seamed to loosen around me, but only slightly. I felt blood seeping though my T-shirt, and could hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears along with my pulse in my finger tips.
"Great" Dean announced under his breath. "Burst her stitches" he grumbled. "Again!"
My body stiffened at what I knew would come next. Sam sensed this and tightened his hold on me in fear of protest. He whispered in my ear once again.
"Its okay. Where not going to hurt you." His voice was honey. "If I let you go, will you stay put?" It was more of a command said with silky words, but I nodded just the same, not knowing if what I said was true myself. I got the feeling Sam felt the same, but he let go of me anyway. He lifted his hands and took a few steps back.
With Sam between the door and me there was no way of getting out. I realized to my dismay, I was in the crappy hotel room again. Why here? I wondered. Why not some filthy basement to hold me in, it would be easier to torture me there. No prying ears or eyes to worry about. I felt of tinge of guilt thinking this. Something about these men made me believe they wouldn't do that. I couldn't say why however.
"Who are you people" I spat glaring at Dean, he recoiled in response, holding his hand out to me in a defensive manner, a bruise started to form on his jaw from where I had hit him. I was ever aware of the presence behind me. Sam's body pressed in on me, his large figure hard to forget at my back. His hands rested on either side of my arms. Not holding me but simply resting there just in case I decided to run.
Dean rubbed his chin.
"I'm Dean Winchester, the one who taught you how to punch like that in case you forgot." He was upset, and for good reason I guess. I shrugged his tone off nonetheless; his attitude was not my problem. "That's Sam." He pointed frustrated, towards the man at my back.
"And what am I doing here Dean Winchester?" Meeting him with equal aggravation. I heard a voice from behind me after a long moment, when Dean refused to answer.
"You came here with us Jane!" his tone becoming more perplexed. I spun around.
"And how do you know my name" Sam shook his head as if this was the stupidest of questions to be asking. Sam shrugged off the inquiry and gave me a slight laugh as a response.
"You where attacked in the last hunt we where on, you've been asleep since" he looked away from me for a moment "until a few hours ago"
"okay well who attached me then?" I asked in disbelief. Sam looked back at me. His face dead serious.
"A monster called a Gedachtnis Esser" A laughed escaped my lips, as if expecting this to be some kind of sick joke. Sam's face didn't change. Unable to speak I just nodded slowly, I wanted to back away but being pressed between the two men there was no where to go. My eyes shifted to Dean who had taken a few steps towards me.
"I see." Was all I could manage to say. "Do you 'hunt' "monsters" often then?"
"Yes actually we do." Dean chimed in without missing a beat. "And so do you Jane,"
He uncrossed his arms.
"So your telling me you don't remember a dam thing from the last 2 years together?" I shook my head suddenly seeing the hurt he was trying to hide behind his rage.
"I'm sorry, I – I don't know who you are." Dean shook his head. He then looked away as if it was too painful to meet my eyes. Taking another step towards me I could tell he wanted to place a hand on my arm, his digits stretched out to me momentarily then fell defeated, his arms at his side. He looked at me with agony searing from his perfectly green eyes.
The look cut me deep in my core. Something in me wanted to caress his face with my index finger and assure him that everything was going to be all right. Despite his gorgeous pleading eyes I kept my hands to myself. Turning abruptly he made his way to the door.
"I'm calling Cas" he said as he pushed past Sam behind me. He left the room slamming the door behind him. Sam and I both jumped at the sound of it. Slowly I turned to face Sam, his brow was nit together as he stared at me. He looked at me apologetically. But for what I had no idea. Sighing he turned and made his way into the motel kitchenette, sitting down at the laptop that was there with out a word. I was so confused.
I was startled by the motel door opening suddenly then slamming closed, I looked up to see Dean standing in the door way. He stared right on back at me despite the daggers I was shooting at him. Something in his eyes, but I couldn't place what, made me shiver. Dean moved swiftly with purpose across the room, unexpectedly he placed both hands on either side of my face and stared deeply into my eyes.
"Jane, Please. You have to fight this. Come back to me" he sucked in a breath sharply. If I hadn't known any better I would have thought I had seen this exact expression before.
A memory came to me, something heated and passionate. Another shutter ran through me. I shrugged his hands away from my face. The expression on his changed to pure agony. His brow knit tightly, he sighed. Turning away from me he spoke to the man sitting at a computer at the motel kitchenette table.
"Sam? How do we kill this son'ofa bitch?" Thinking he was talking about me I inched up the bed I was sitting on, away from him in defense.
"According to lore the Esser didn't get a hold of Jane long enough to steal all her memories. So it's probably not walking around with her face just yet."
"Probably? Great small mercies I guess" Dean retorted back. Sam continued,
"It'll probably want to come back and finish the job, or move on. Also I can't find any lore on how to kill them"
"well what? try stabbing it a few times then? Most things go down that way"
"I think its going to be a little harder then that to keep it down, maybe decapitation?" My brain was spinning at this point. These men were clearly insane, and dangerously plotting someone's murder. But for some reason I didn't want to rush to the door like I had before. Doubting I would even make it that far in the first place, my stomach and head were still screaming from my last attempt.
I groaned in response. While Dean had been gone, I reluctantly allowed Sam to re-stitch my wound. He seamed to be better at it then Dean had been. His hands were steadier, lines straighter. Gentler. Although this time I hadn't been writhing in pain desperately trying to escape.
Dean's head snapped in my direction as if reading my mind.
"How is your head anyway kiddo?" his friendly tone catching me off guard
"My head?" as I said this my fingers instinctually went to the base of my skull, there I found four large indents into the soft tissue, I had not even noticed. Understandably with the shear pain my abdomen was in. I had blamed the pain in my head from being from when I hit it on the pavement before
"what the hell?!" I said allowed. "How the hell did that happen?" Sam answered me
"Essers steal memories in order to claim the identity of its victims. You're lucky it didn't get its tentacles in more then it did, most victims don't even remember who they are." Jaw dropped, my face scrunching up in disgust
"Tentacles? Really?" I sighed and place an index finger to my nose, as I did on occasion when trying to think.
"Okay I'll play ball. How did I come in contact with this Easter?"
"Esser." Dean corrected in a slightly more irritated tone then I would have liked.
"Fine Esser or what ever. I've never heard of one, how'd I get face to face with one of these things?"
"We don't have time for this." Dean quickly pleaded to Sam "Sam, We don't have time for this!"
"Fine well what do you want to do, drop her off at the bunker and go on without her?"
"No," he said abruptly "one of us would have to stay with her and I'm not leaving you to fight this thing on your own."
"Then what? call Cas?"
"He's already on his way."
"Or you could just let me go" I chimed in. Sam and Dean both snapped a harmonious gruff
"no" then turned back to one another as if I wasn't even there. Okay then…
"Well what then?" Sam continued.
"We can't leave her here." His eyes were a plead for some sort of answer. I could tell he looked up to Dean, as if he was the superior of the two.
What where these men? They said they 'Hunted monsters' what does that even mean. Maybe they were just psychos that I was unlucky enough to cross paths with. What they said had explained why I couldn't remember anything other then being at home with molly, but I refused their explanation, it was absurd. Some sort of creature running around 'stealing memories' from folks? This was all too crazy, but even with the information given to me I had no way of fitting it all together in a way that made sense.
"I don't know Sam." Deans sapped. For reasons I couldn't understand every time that man spoke my heart seamed to do a little flutter.
"Dean" Sam's face dropped in realization, "her journal." He said. The other man took a moment to work through what Sam was saying, and then he rushed to a duffle bag that had been hiding behind the open bathroom door. He produced to me a small leather book that had my name etched in the top left corner in pen, carved into the leather. As if by some unsaid magic word I felt my hands reaching out for it against my will.
As Dean handed me the small book, our fingers brushed against one another for only an instant but it made my face flush. I turned my face away, not wanting him to see.
He certainly was a handsome man, if only a little insane. Why am I always attracted to the crazy ones? I sighed internally.
When the book was in my possession I opened it to the first page. I was amazed to find inside was my own handwriting. There was my name, and an unfamiliar address on the inside cover. Dean stepped back a few feet to allow me some space as I read.
"Thank god she keeps a journal" Dean replied as he moved away. Sam refocused his attention on his laptop as Dean took a beer from the mini fridge. One of the twelve pack I had predicted was in there earlier. He twisted the top off and reclined in the opposite chair from Sam at the kitchenette. His eyes surveyed me uncomfortably, at least for me. He seamed to have been studying me. Searching in me for anything that might indicate something. Of what I had no idea, but as he stared, meeting my eyes shamelessly, I internally shudder. He fixed his eyes on me, unblinking for a good ten seconds before I willed myself to tare my gaze away. If not I feared I might have fallen into those deep green pools. I shifted my attention back to the book in my hands. 'My book' apparently.
"Hey, Listen to this" Sam jolted me out of my reading "Gedachtnis Essers sometimes use their ability to steal memories to take over their victims identities. We knew that already, but get this, Due to their unique skills, they also often work in espionage."
"That explains why it would go after us. Being "FBI agents" and all" using air quotes Dean clarified.
"You guys are FBI agents?" book in hand I peered at them from over the pages. Dean rolled his eyes. Sam simply gave a halfhearted laugh and cleared his throat.
"Uh, no, we are not" he simply said and went back to his computer. "It looks like they come from European lore, most of the information I can find is all in German."
"Great" dean chimed in.
"it also says it's a kind of wesen"
"a wesen?" Dean cocked his head and raised his eyebrows, as if this was the only strange thing he had heard out of this entire conversation. I raised an eyebrow silently.
"A Wesen: they are the basis not only of the fairy tales that the brothers Grimm have compiled but also of many legends and folklore from many cultures'." Sam quoted, looking up from the computer to pear at Dean, he continued. "Apparently a Wendigo is a type of Wesen"
"great" Dean returned. "That means we've got to torch it?"
"That also mean knives and bullets will just make it angry?"
"Great let's get to work" Dean swiftly strode past me and grabbed a shot gun that had been leaning against the wall near him, which I found odd seeing as how Sam had literally just finished explaining that bullets would just make it angry, but I assumed he simply didn't want to leave me with a loaded shot gun.
"Wait, Dean" Sam stopped him. "What about her?" both the men stopped in their tracks, and turned to look at me sitting on the bed, the journal in hand. I gave a strained tight-lipped smile.
There was a moment of silence at that moment, then as if by some divine intervention a knock sounded at the door. The men tore their eyes from me to look at one another. After a moment Sam reached for the doorknob.
When opened there stood a dark haired man in a trench coat, under which he wore a suit and tie. He had the most unbelievably blue eyes. What was it with these men and there eyes, I thought quietly to myself.
"I'm here" he said in a gruff low voice.
"Yeah, we can see that Cas" Dean pointed out. Cas stepped into the hotel room and Sam closed the door behind him. Cas and Dean stood looking at me as I sat on the bed, my knees to my chest. They gazed at me as if I was some dilemma to be solved. The man in the trench coat stood with his arms at his side, a slight hunch to his posture, but not much. Dean crossed his arms tightly across his chest, making his arms look even more large and muscular then they had before.
"What do you know of Wesen?" the gruff voice felt like sandpaper against my ears. He was asking the guys, but he didn't tare his gaze from me.
"we know we gotta torch it the son of'a bitch to kill it. Come on Sammy lets go, Cas you stay here with Jane."
"wait Dean, its not that simple. You have to cut off the head while its on fire, or it will simply come back."
"Fine." Dean said flatly. "Lets go Sam" in a sudden flurry Sam and Dean were out the door and I was left alone with this strange man.
"Hello Jane" I sat silently for a moment. He smiled politely at me as if he knew me. I mean for all I knew he could have know me. I hadn't gotten far in my journal. I had just reached the point where I could honestly believe that the handwriting wasn't forged. I mean what would be the point anyway. It all seamed to elaborate to be a lie, or hoax, and what would be the point? There were other indications as well. Certain words etched into the book, words that I would think to use for certain things before I had even read them. Things that I knew to be true even thought I could not remember them, a similar feeling to the 12 pack, or revolver in the bedside table. The book hadn't gotten to the part where I had met the handsome two 'hunters' yet. I looked forward to reading that part but felt it would be cheating to skip ahead.
"Hello" I finally managed to say back slowly. Cas took a quick scan of the room then sat down in the chair closest to the door, the one that Dean had been sitting in prior. He didn't say anything, he simply stared. Uncomfortable, I went back to my book, knowing that he would be watching me.
"August 12th 10:45am
"Vampire nest: 4 vamps killed, one got away. It got my scent thought, Ill have to track it down later, before it hunts me. Damm my stupidity for not having saffron for the scent. Had to get rid of the bodies first before I go after the straggler. I really don't want someone happening upon them and starting an investigation. Besides I think I might know were to find its human mate. Maybe ill pay them a visit. Ask them were I can find their lover. If not ill have to have them come to me..."
I read on.
"August 12th 2:34 pm;"
"A Chelsea Wisner has agreed to help me find her "boyfriend", the vampire that I believe is responsible for the death of up to 6 girls in the local area. I didn't really find the need to tell her that though. The less she knows the better. She's and innocent in all this. No point in ruining more lives. All she needs to know is that he is dangerous. She was kind enough to let me give her my card after she was finished crying all over me. I also reminded her that lying to an FBI agent is a federal offense, I reminded her this gently. I think that is when she started crying. A somewhat common response when you find out the person you love is a wanted killer. She'll get over it. At least she wont be number 7."
"August 12th 5:30pm"
"Chelsea has surprisingly been more helpful then I thought she would be. Shortly after getting back I received a call from her. She gave me an address where I might be able to find 'Jack'. (what the vampire is called I guess) I could tell it was really hard for her to be honest with me, but I'm really glad that she was. I'm going to go over and check out the address. 1253 W, 600 N in Paradise. I think then ill go and check in at the girls house, make sure everything is okay, I've got a feeling. Just incase I don't make it back. Well. That's where ill be."
"August 13th 10:15 am"
"A girl died in my arms today. She didn't understand why the love of her life had in an instant decided to rip her throat out. God dammit. I wasn't counting on the vampire attacking its own mate, I thought these things mated for life, unless she was just his feed back, maybe the mate is still out there... Another innocent death on me, but the vamp is dead. Another good days work I guess. Sometimes I wonder if this is even worth the blood on my hands. Literally. The shit won't wash off. Ill have to burn this shirt."
Something twisted in me as I read my own words. The woman I read about was cold. She talked about it all like it was nothing. Death was inevitable. Blood was like the sweat on her brow after a long day of manual labor. Just another part of 'the job' . This woman disgusted me, but I also found myself enthralled with intrigue. Could this really be who I was now? The thought sent a shudder through me. I wanted to put the book down and never pick it back up again, but I knew I had to keep reading.
"August 18th 3:25 am"
"Cant sleep, the night mares are evermore persistent. I wish they would at least let me have a nap for gods sake. Maybe I'll call Bobby see if he has anything for me yet. I hate this downtime. The only time I do get any decent sleep is when I'm on a hunt."
August 22nd 12:00 pm"
"Found a promising lead on a shape shifter? Or something of the like…. Locals have been going missing nonetheless. People claiming their loved ones aren't acting like themselves before they ditch town. Unfortunately the thing is probably killing the hosts and just switching to a new form afterwards, getting bored I assume. I need to get my hands on some more silver"
The rest of the entries continued on much like this. Case after case, death after death, innocent after innocent. I put the book down; I didn't really want to read anymore. I didn't need to. I was convinced. Vampires were real, shape shifters, werewolves and witches. What else was real? The boogieman?
"What do you remember?" a gravelly voice asked me. I looked up the see the man still staring at me, I'm honestly not sure he ever stopped.
"I remember being home, with my dog. Other then that I get flashes. Not much though."
"Jane," he said cautiously "that was over 9 years ago." I sat in shock for a moment on the edge of the bed. 9 years of my life gone. Where did it all go? Was I ever going to get it back?
"Maybe," I started, gulping down bile that had began to threaten to rise in my throat. "If Dean and Sam kill that thing will I get my memories back?" the man sighed to himself then continued.
"Not likely." He said it with care but it still felt like a coarse, sharp hand to my face. It was silent then. I was afraid to ask anything else, but uncomfortable in the silence.
"So what is your name anyway?"
"My name is Castiel, I'm a Angel of the lord." I pursed my lips, choosing my words carefully.
"Uh ha" was all I could muster without sounding offensive.
Just then thankfully the door to the motel unlocked and swung open. A very perturbed looking Dean entered the room, followed by a very distressed Sam.
"Damm thing skipped town" Dean burst out.
"Yeah wearing Jane's face no less" Sam chimed in defeated. Great I thought. Some 'thing' is going around looking like me causing who knows what kind of trouble.
"Well" Dean said suddenly looking at my raised eyebrow, "lets go! Pack up" he barked.
"Okay jeez keep your pants on." I pursed a lip, looking him over and deciding that maybe a pants less dean wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
Dean clapped his hands bringing me back to the present. I jumped to action, not really knowing what I was supposed to be packing. I started taking articles of clothing and simply stuffing them into any spare duffle bag. Praying that I didn't leave anything important behind. My mind suddenly was on the gun in the nightstand, but I thought it better not to look like I was going for a weapon, so I left it for the guys to handle.
Within minuets we were sitting in that beautiful car, on our way to whatever god forsaken town was next. I sat in the front seat with Dean. Sam and Castiel sat in the back. Even thought the seat separated me from the back, I could feel the presence of all three of the men pressing in on me. It was somehow comforting. Like this had been a reality I had had a long time to get used to.
The car ride was quite and intense, it made me kind of long for the comfortable shitty motel room again. As grungy and run down it was, it was at least a nice bed and a book to curl up with. Fingering the pages of the journal in my lap, my mind wandered to another such bed in which I had curled up in many a time, with someone at my side? I remembered that the motel room, although had three occupants, only had two beds.
Before my mind could wonder much more I felt a hand brush gently onto mine. I looked down to see that Dean had at some point, laid his hand to rest upon mine. At first I didn't want to pull back, I stared at it for a few moments. His finger snaked into mine. That's when I pulled back, a little to intimate for my likening.
"What are you doing?" I snapped. Dean looked surprised for an instant, then realization washed over his face
"sorry, force of habit" he grunted.
"A habit of holding strangers hands? You should probably break that one." He pursed his lips
"Well up to a few hours ago, sweetheart we were a little more then strangers." He licked his lips as if remembering something, a slight smile on his face, but it faded as suddenly as it had appeared. My stomach did a quick summersault as a result. He raised an eyebrow at me, the sun from the window streaming through his perfectly green eyes. I realized he was waiting for me to respond, some sort of whimsical, sarcastic remark. When I said nothing, he simply frowned and looked back at the road. Sam cleared his throat behind me and we went back to uncomfortable silence.
We drove for what seamed like hours, giving me plenty of time to get through a good chunk of the journal.
"September 11th 2pm"
"Not a shape shifter. Definitely not a shape shifter."
"September 13th sometime after 3am, I don't have a damm watch on me at all times"
"I've been getting more and more reports of demon activity. Something is going on. Something bad. Bobby wont tell me much other then he's setting me up with a couple of hunters that seam to have a knack for hunting Demonic entities. I'm looking forward to learning all I can, but I really hate working with other hunters. I have more then a few scars from ass holes letting me down on a job. But, from what I hear from Bobby these guys are the good ones. And I trust that old idiot, Lets hope he's right."
September 15th 2pm
I'm in trouble. God, am I in trouble. Damm it. Why the fuck dose this always happen?
September 15th 7pm
John's boys, Winchesters. I've had the pleasure of working with john on occasion, but this was a little different. It's like having two johns instead of just one, attitude in all. The tall one, Sam, is more, how do I put it? He seams to have a better head on his shoulders then his brother, if at all. Sam's a guy I can actually wrap my mind around. The short one however, Dean, has a real mouth on him to, a pretty mouth, but a mouth none the same. Can't get him to stop staring at my ass.
I had to stop reading because I was beginning to feel carsick.
After a while, Dean pulled over into an empty parking lot near a complex of houses. It looked as if we were on the edge of a forest, not far away from civilization however. The parking lot looked like it was the entrance to some nature trail.
The boys in the back got out, I felt the car lurch off the ground from the lack of weight. They opened the back of the impala and started taking things out of the trunk; arming themselves with Molotov cocktails, flare guns and knives.
Dean kicked opened the drivers door, He began to get out of the car, following Sam, and Castiel. But before he got out Dean leaned into the center console toward me, his face was inches from my nose.
"Stay here." He commanded pointing down to the ground. He stopped then for a moment, his gaze shifted from my eyes to my lips. He had a needful expression on his face. I suddenly felt bad that I couldn't give him what he was desperately asking for. The moment passed and he shimmied out of the car, and closed the door behind him. I was left with his lingering sent of leather, soil and aftershave. It was fleeting though. I sighed.
All three men made their way into the forest on the small dirt trail. With one final glance back to the car where I sat, Dean hoisted the machete he had onto his shoulder, and was gone into the brush with Sam and Cas.
The moments alone were endless. The silence ticked on and on. A few cars zoomed passed, we were close to the highway, but far enough away that the trees hid anything that might go on in the small parking lot. I found myself longing for the presence of another human being, well not just any, but one in particular.
I pulled the Zippo lighter form my pocket and began to play with it, Dean had given it me 'just in case' as he had put it. Like a little Zippo was going to help against a murdering monster. I found myself flipping the lid on and off, click on, click off, and so on. The silence was somewhat maddening. The only sound inside the car was the relentless pounding of my pulse in my ear, and the clinking of the lighter.
Finally, after a long while, I heard the door to the impala creak open, and I felt the car dip as someone sat in the front seat. It's about time I thought to myself, but before I could get a word out I was met with a jarring sight.
Dean was not sitting next to me in the front seat of the impala. The face I saw was all together terrifyingly familiar. The woman in front of me sported a jagged silver scar across her cheek; her hair was well past her shoulders and the same color as mine. My hand founds its way to my own scar across my cheek, or was it her cheek; I was to in shock to know.
Her lips parted and then curled into a wicked smile. Her burnt chestnut eyes met mine and I swore I felt my heart stop for an instant. Then where my face had been on the woman, four tentacles morphed out of the pores on her façade, Slimy appendages where her mouth had been.
She reached out to me suddenly. But I was faster. She lunged and I jumped back against the window of the passenger seat, dropping the Zippo somewhere onto the floor. However there were only so many places I could avoid her in the small space. She grabbed a hold of my shoulder, her claw of a hand ripping into the soft flesh under my t-shirt, as I reached out to the floor, with one hand, and the door handle with the other, I felt the tearing of my shoulder give way to blood. I let out a yell of pain that clearly gave the creature much pleasure, because the face that looked too much like mine spread out in a toothy grin, the teeth sharp as razors framed by those tentacles.
Managing to pull the chrome handle of the door, both the creature and I fell through. My back hit the gravel hard. The entity that looked like me, only horrible and deathly, fell on top of my body. I used all my strength to hit it hard in the back with my fists, but unfortunately I couldn't hit it with enough force to drive it to let go.
My legs were still in the impala so my free hand desperately searched for the Zippo on the floor below the seat. Finally my hand brushed up against something small, metal and rectangular. I grabbed onto it and desperately shimmy my legs the rest of the way out of the car and away from the entity, my hand in a death grip around the lighter.
The tentacles reached out to me as the women held both my shoulders against the ground. She was straddling me now; she placed both her knees on my arms so I could not move, lighter still in hand I flipped the lid open and flicked the flint so the fire was lit, desperately I tried to move my arms enough to be able to catch her shirt on fire, her hair, anything, hell I would even settle for her shoes. Her hands held my face in place.
When the tentacles contacted my skull I was hit with a bright light as my vision blurred. I could have sworn I heard someone bellowing my name, but the pain was to much, and the light to bright, suddenly I was hit with a white hot temperature on top of me, it scored my skin and left me sweating.
Memories flashed in front of my very eyes. Mostly Dean. His smile, his touch. I wanted to embrace the memories but my instincts told me to fight back. Green eyes. A smile, a kiss. Then black.
Something hard and searing fell on my chest and I was hit in the face with a splash of hot blood, I spit out the little bit that had made its way into my mouth. The heavy body then rolled off to my side, the heat migrating with it.
Dean was standing over me, a machete in hand and the Creature was lying headless next to me, still on fire. His expression was intense; he stood over both the corpse and I, his legs standing on either side of mine. He had his chin jutted out slightly in an intense scowl, his lips parted and I could see his white teeth. He looked like some sort of god of vengeance.
"Dean" I breathed. His jutted jaw, and stern appearance melted when he saw the look on my face. He quickly took his over shirt off and knelt over me, smothering the small cinders that were trying to light onto my v-neck. Then putting the fire out that had almost entirely engrossed the corpse.
The look of realization of what had just happened on my face must have been apparent because, the look of relief and maybe even a little pride washed over his features. I couldn't help but feel a little ping of satisfaction that it had been my actions that contributed to killing that thing.
Then suddenly I was hit with a vision, it continued painfully. Flashes, of what I could only assume as my life came flooding back like a slap to the face. Not just Dean but the pain, the sorrow. The agony. All the stab wounds, skull fractures, and broken bones hit me like a train. It was raucous; I blinked back the tears forming in my eyes. The entire shit-storm of things I'd done, the people I've killed, the blood on my hands. How many more shirts had to get burned, stained with other peoples blood, before something finally stopped me. Before something finally put an end to me?
Suddenly Dean's hands were on my face, caressing the hair from my eyes, wiping the blood from my mouth and chin, the soot from my face. All I could do was stare into those green pools
"are you with me?" Dean's voice was a whisper. I nodded slowly still in shock at the visions that still came in waves. He sighed quickly and held my head to his chest. Running his fingers through my hair, he planted a soft kiss on the top of my head.
The next visions came on stronger then the last bearing down on me with every flash, it was all too much; the memories still came to me in waves. What was I even seeing? A knife plunged into a man with black eyes; another with jagged teeth, his head split from his body and fell to my feet. I saw a motionless child in my arms. Teeth tearing at my throat, searing pain like a hot white light tore through me.
"oh god" I said aloud, Deans arms tightened around me. The pain didn't stop there though. The flashes kept coming. I saw things. Things I desperately wanted to have kept forgotten. My vision blurred as my head sang. Then the ringing started. A piercing sound that I could only describe as the sound of my head being torn in half. It didn't stop there though. Flashes of him came to me. Hot open-mouthed kisses on my neck, on just the right spot. Just under my jaw were my neck met my collarbone. I shuddered at the memory. Suddenly someone was shaking me, or was I shaking myself. Violent convulsions tore through my body.
"Jane? Jane! Hey, Hey, Talk to me!" I only answered him in silence, the visions too much to handle. "Dammit Cas do something!"
"There isn't anything I can do Dean, I, don't know what to do, she must still be experiencing the effects of the mind meld, and the memory extraction"
"you didn't say this was going to happen"
"Dean we had no idea of what might happen" Sam sounded like he was in pain, almost like what he was seeing was to much to bare, wanting to help, but having no way to do so. I suddenly found my voice
"God, Dean make it stop!"
"I know sweetheart, I know." His voice was so pained, his hands were like iron rods on my arms, almost hurting actually now that I think about it. His other hand was franticly stroking my forehead.
"kill me, make it stop just kill me" I felt something like a tear hit my cheek, not mine though. More blood perhaps?
Suddenly as quickly as it had come, the visions receded. I still had no idea how to put it all together; it was like seeing flashes from someone else's life. When my eyes blinked out of the flashes, the face I saw was filled with agony, probably mirroring something similar to my own.
My eyes finally came in to focus and Deans expression changed to something of relief, but still concern. He simply held me there.
"Are you?..."
"Yeah, I think…" I breathed. His eyes bore into mine, almost as if he was trying to see into my very soul. I wanted to somehow let him know that I was okay. But how? Was I even okay? Would it be a lie?
I reached up to touch the stubble on his chin. Caressing it with my finger, I had seen him with me in my visions, in another life I think I was in love with this man. He leaned into my touch.
"Hi" I said. He gave a slight laugh and held my hand in place against his jaw.
"Hi" he said back to me.
Suddenly Sam and Castiel came rushing in.
"Dean! Did it work?" Sam burst out kneeling next to Dean and I. Dean never pulled away, still looking in my eyes.
"What were we hunting when we first met?" his voice was pleading.
"I,.. what?"
"Just answer the question Jane" I didn't know what to say, I still had no memory of meeting Dean outside of today.
"I don't know" Dean gave an angry sigh.
"Dammit!" he roared, making me jump slightly.
"Dean we had no way of knowing if it would work, it was never a for sure thing" with his hand still on the back of my head, blood coating his fingers, he placed his other hand on my back and slowly helped me get off the ground.
"Do you remember anything?" Dean asked
"I don't know… I saw things"
"things? What Things?" I bit my lip trying to make sense of what had just happened to me.
"I don't know!" I snapped at his persistent questions, they annoyed me after what I had just been through. "Memories?" I tired to answer.
Once I was on my feet it was hard to stand on my own, Dean tried to steady me, his hand on the small of my back.
My fingers probed the small holes in the back of my head where the swelling had already begun. That dam thing had made it all the way through my skull this time. I winced and Dean quickly looked at the blood on his own fingers from the back of my head, looking between me and his digits his concern was apparent. Dean moved his hand from my back to my shoulder and turned me to get a better look at the wounds on the back of my head.
"We got to patch this up before you pass out." Really hoping that those tentacles didn't give me some kind of horrible dieses I graciously let Dean painfully probe the back of my head.
"Sammy get the first aid kit in the trunk!" Sam jumped up immediately and obeyed Deans command. "This is going to hurt like a son'of a bitch sweetheart." I had figured. Assuming that I was going to get a needle shoved through the back of my head, it didn't really sound like a cakewalk to me, although it seamed like anything would be less painful then the visions.
Sam came up with a needle that he was holding in the flame of a lit lighter. At least it was going to be sterile I thought as Dean agonizingly got to work at the back of my head. It didn't hurt nearly as much as the stitching on my stomach had been, partially because the back of my head had become numb with pain, by now the needle was nothing compared to having memories ripped from my skull.
I quickly made a mental account of all the things I had done today to see if I could remember it all. Wondering if that thing had had its way with me if I would have forgotten who I was, how to walk, and eventually how to breathe? I trembled at the thought and Dean scolded me for moving while he meticulously worked with the needle at the back of my skull.
"A Demon" I suddenly said. "We hunted a Demon named Ruthford? Am I right" I could feel Deans hand on my arm, he squeezed it slightly encouragingly. Sam was the one who spoke
"yeah," he said "that's when we suggested you get that anti possession tattoo on your ankle." So that was what that tattoo was. Sam's eyes were kind, I could tell he was glad for me to at least remember something about my past. Maybe it would come back to me eventually. But was that even what I wanted?
The person I read about in that journal sounded like someone I would never want to meet. She frightened and made me sick to my stomach, the thought of her lack of empathy, her coldness. I shook myself out of the thought I didn't want to entertain. It was just as hard not truly knowing who I was however, but this was something I was willing to live with outside of the alternative.
"Dean." Cas suddenly said his voice was gruff and urgent "we have to burn the body before it comes back"
"give me a minute Cas" he was still working on the back of my head
"we, don't, have, a minute" Castiel returned. Frustrated Dean left the back of my head not entirely satisfied with the job he had left unfinished, to help Cas with the body before anyone from the small neighborhood came to investigate.
Both Cas and Dean lugged the heavy body that I found looked painfully like my own into the trunk of the car. It was harder seeing what looked like my dead body then I assumed I would ever have to endure. I mean after all who ever gets to see their own copse?
A familiar ting hit me then, like this was not the first time I had had the pleasure of seeing a dead body that sported my face. A memory came to me then, one of hunting a shape shifter. Me, but not me, with a dreadful smile plastered on her lips as she held a knife painfully close to Deans throat. Was this a "memory" something that had happened to me in this past life?
"You okay?" Sam's voice shook me out of my daze. Looking up at him I realized I wasn't entirely sure how to answer him.
"My head hurts like a mother" he gave a halfhearted laugh.
"Yeah. That'll happen" I found his laugh oddly charming, it felt like I had heard it more then a few times.
"I know what you meant… I'm not sure." I finally said looking up to him. He was a very tall man. Much taller then my 5'4 and a half, and I was very proud of that half inch thank you very much. However I suddenly felt very small next to his towering form, he was probably at least a whole foot taller then me.
Cas and Dean had slammed the trunk closed, and it was time to go, burn the body someplace far away from prying eyes perhaps. The drive was silent and the body burning even more so. It was hard to place into words exactly how uncomfortable I actually was, I was watching the flesh char off my own bones, the skin melt off my own face. It was quite disturbing to be completely honest, even though I knew it wasn't me in that dirt hole, it still felt out of body. Like I was watching my own corpse from an immaterial form hovering above. As I looked up at the men surrounding the ditch none of them would meet my eyes. Whether it was shame, fear or something else that drove this I will never know.
Once the fire was out it was back in the car and on our way to a place descried simply as "the bunker" and "home" my home I assumed. It was all so strange, like waking up from a dream and feeling similarities in the waking life but unable to remember what it was that was familiar. Like the leather of the seats, or the sound of the radio as it played its ancient cassette tapes, the sound the car made bounding over imperfections in the road.
I found myself stealing glances at Dean in the drivers seat more then once, he was the most familiar of all the little pings, and also the hardest to remember, no matter how much I tried. I found myself able to sing along to most of the songs on the radio, not that I could find the joy in me to sing at this point; but the curve of that jaw line, the way he let his lips fall apart as he drove thinking of something far away, the way his brow would furrow when he looked both ways before making a left turn. The depths of those green eyes… I felt a shiver run through me and quickly looked away once our eyes met. I could feel his smug expression as his gaze bore into the side of my face; I looked out the window trying desperately to ignore him. With the fear and adrenalin faded from my system, I was suddenly aware of how exhausted I really was, however No matter how much I tried, I wasn't able to sleep the entire car ride.