"Chris? You okay?"
I forced myself to peel open my eyes. My head was throbbing, and just moving my eyes hurt. It felt like someone was scraping my brains out of my skull.
"Chris?" Becca repeated, looking down at me with her trademark look, "Another migraine?" I grunted in response, rolling over and burying my head in the pillows.
"I'll get you some of your migraine medicine," Becca announced, and I felt her get up from the edge of bed where she had been sitting.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Dean's voice came through the door. "You guys up?"
"Door's unlocked," Becca yelled, causing me to wince. She realized that she'd yelled and whispered, "Sorry," as she brought a big red pill over.
I sat up as the boys walked in, already dressed and ready to go. They both looked at me as I dry-swallowed the pill.
"…You okay, Chris?" Sam asked, cocking his head, "You don't look so good."
"Understatement," I groaned, flopping back down on the bed.
"She gets these really bad migraines a lot," Becca explained, "They started around when she was twelve. And they've gotten progressively worse… Even that migraine stuff I just gave her doesn't really work anymore. She says it takes the edge off, though."
"That sucks," Dean sighed, "Anything we can do to help, Chris?"
"Talking quieter would be nice," I suggested grumpily. Their voices turned into hushed whispers, and I tried to ignore the pain in my head.
This was the worst one in a while. And it was the first time in months that I'd woken up with one this bad. I'd seen doctors, but none of them seemed to know what was wrong with me. Which was just great, because it gave my parents all the more reason to complain about me.
I trained myself to ignore it and pretend I wasn't in pain when I was younger. Whenever I brought it up to either of my parents…well, let's just say they didn't see it as a problem for me, but more of a problem for them. I always got punished for complaining. So I stopped doing it.
It took nearly an hour, but the pain finally subsided enough for me to get up and get dressed. By the time my hair was brushed and my makeup was done, the migraine had turned into a mere headache. That was manageable.
We all ended up going out to breakfast soon after. We had normal conversation, and it all felt like a normal morning. The reality is, the recent past had been anything but normal.
The demons had kidnapped John. Sam and Dean absolutely freaked, and I think the only think that kept them from running off and getting themselves killed was Becca and I calming them down and convincing them to go to Bobby's for help. Finding John after that was easy enough. Looking back on it, it was way too easy. We got him out and to a secluded cabin where we thought we'd be safe. Oh, were we wrong.
As it turns out, Azazel was possessing John. He was so powerful that our holy water tests didn't even work. Sam had the chance to kill him with the Colt, but he wouldn't do it if it meant killing his father in the process. To be honest, if I could have gotten the gun from him, I probably would have pulled the trigger for him. Maybe it would have prevented what happened later on.
Azazel skipped out as soon as he realized we could kill him. On the car ride back to Bobby's, one of Azazel's asshole demon minions hit the impala with a semi-truck. None of us were seriously hurt besides Dean. He almost died, again. He even had a reaper on his tail until John made the deal.
He made a deal with Azazel. If he gave Azazel the Colt and his life, then Azazel would save Dean. That was the deal. It brought Dean back, but he was so full of guilt that I felt an immense hatred for John Winchester. I already hated him anyways. Dean had told me some of the things that he did to him and Sam when they were kids. But this hate was different. He left his sons without even giving them an explanation. We had to find out what happened ourselves.
So we went back to hunting. The boys were upset, but they weren't going to let that show. They released their anger through hunting. Becca and I were sure of one thing, though. We weren't leaving them anytime soon. They needed the support right now. And even though we hated to admit it, they were support for us too.
Becca had always been my support. It went against the older-sibling-is-always-supporting-the-younger-sibling stereotype, but it's the truth. She helped me more than I think I ever helped her. But she wasn't invincible. There were nights where I'd come back from grocery shopping and hear her quietly crying in the bathroom. When I confronted her about it, she denied it at first. But nothing ever stays hidden between us for long. We always confided in each other, and nothing we told each other ever changed our relationship. Which was why I was so confused about why she avidly avoided talking to me about her feelings for Sam. Every time I brought it up, she'd change the subject as soon as possible. It took forever to get her honest thoughts on the subject.
"Why do you keep bringing this up?" she asked, almost angrily one day when I asked her about Sam.
"Because you keep avoiding the subject," I retorted.
She sighed loudly. "If I talk to you about it now, can we not talk about it again for a while?"
"Of course," I said quickly. That may or may not have been a lie.
"I just…" she sighed again, "I don't know. I've liked guys before. It's not exactly a new thing. But Sam… Sam is different. He's not like the others. I like him, a lot. I really like him, Chris."
I grinned widely. "Oh wow, you really do like him a lot, don't you?"
"Yes, that's what I just said."
"I had no idea it was this serious," I continued.
"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises," Becca sassed.
"So tell me," I began, "Why the hell haven't you made a move yet?!"
Becca just sighed exasperatedly.
We didn't really talk about it again after that. She began avidly avoiding the topic again, but I was contempt with what information I had gotten. For then, anyway. Dean and I sure did discuss our little siblings' not-relationship a lot, though.
"Sam is just afraid," Dean told me one day, "He really likes her. But he's afraid of getting too close to someone again. After Jess, you know?"
"I understand," I replied, "Although, I do think that Becca is a bit more capable of defending herself than Jess was."
"That's what I told him," Dean sighed, "But I just can't get through to him."
"I can't get through to Becca either," I complained, "I don't know why she hasn't made a move yet."
We shared an understanding look, and clinked our beer bottles together before each taking long gulps.
Things like this almost made me feel normal. Like a normal older sister trying to set her little sister up with a nice boy. But we were definitely far from normal. That was made clear a few nights after Dean and I's conversation. What I wouldn't give to be normal for once…
We were hunting a lamia. Lamia are humanoid monsters with long claws used for ripping people apart so they can feat of the human's heart. Gross. Anyway, the four of us had chased it down to the sewers and we had it cornered.
"Damnit, where's my silver knife?" I yelled, checking every single one of my pockets. It must have fallen out. Sam and Dean both had theirs out, keeping the creature in its place in the corner.
"I've got this," Becca promised, pulling out her own knife. I nodded at her, my "be careful" implied.
But she wasn't careful enough. She was about to plunge the knife through the creature's heart when its foot slipped out and tripped her. She fell into it, and it held its claws at her throat.
"Put your weapons down or her throat gets torn to ribbons," it hissed.
We all froze. My heart stopped, and my breathing slowed. It was just as the boys began lowering their knives when I felt my hand land on something cool in my pocket. A silver throwing knife. In record speed, I whipped it out and flung it at the creature. It narrowly missed Becca. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. She pried herself from its grasp and darted away as I darted towards it. It howled in pain as it gripped its shoulder where I had hit it with the knife. By the time it saw me coming, I was already taking the knife out of its shoulder and plunging it into its chest. With an inhuman gasp, it fell to the ground and I removed my blade. I kicked the body before walking away, panting.
"That was close," Dean exclaimed, breathing heavily with the rest of us. All of our hearts were beating fast.
"Are you okay, Becca?" Sam asked, giving her a look similar to her own trademark look.
"I'm fine," she blushed, "Chris, how about you?"
"Great," I breathed.
"Well that's too bad."
Sam, Dean, and I looked up at Becca in surprise.
"What?" Dean and I asked in unison.
Becca grinned. But it wasn't her usual grin. And the look in her eyes wasn't like her at all either.
She cackled. "That's too bad. I'm about to make your day ten kinds of bad, sweetheart."
Confusion flooded through me. And then it hit me. "You're not my sister. You're a demon."
"No," she gasped sarcastically, confirming my suspicions, "How could you say that?"
"Get out of her you filthy bitch," I snarled.
"Language," the demon snapped, "I'm simply here to send a message."
"Here's a message of our own," Dean countered, "Get the hell out of Becca right now, or you'll be dead before you can blink."
"Don't be silly," she smirked, "Just let me deliver my message and I'll be gone. No need to get your panties in a twist." She sauntered over to the dead lamia on the floor.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked worriedly. He got no answer.
The demon reached down to both sets of the lamia's claws and grasped them firmly. Next, she yanked the, clean off of the beast's hands, splattering blood everywhere. She walked back over to us.
"What are you-" I began, only to be interrupted by the demon.
"Azazel sends his regards," she said with an evil grin, lining the claws up with Becca's chest, "And he says not to interfere with his plans again."
The demon plunged the claws deep into my sister's chest and ripped it open. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she left my sister and let her fall to the floor.
"Becca!" I screeched, running to her and dropping down at her side, "You stay with me. We're gonna fix this. It's going to be okay, Becca."
"I-It's okay, Christine," she choked, coughing up blood, "B-Boys…I need you…t-to…promise me som…something,"
"Anything," Sam said, dropping down next to her and taking the hand that I wasn't holding.
"T-take care of my…sister," she ordered, "Don't l-let her do anyth…thing stupid. G-got it? P-Promise."
"We promise," Don't l-let her do anyth…thing stupid. G-got it? P-Promise."
"We promise," Dean said, kneeling beside his brother. Tears were even welling up in his eyes. Tears were rolling down Sam's cheeks, and I was a sobbing mess.
"I-I love you, Chris-stine," she said to me, forcing a smile, "Be…be strong."
"I love you too, Rebecca," I sobbed, "I love you so much. Don't worry. You're going to be okay. We'll…we'll take you to Bobby's. He can patch you up. You'll be fine. I promise. It's going to be okay. You're go-"
"Chris."
"What?" I snapped, looking over at Dean. He stood up and walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, "She's gone."
I dragged my face down to my sister. Her eyes had glazed over, and her hand had slacked in mine.
"No," I muttered, shaking my head, "No. No. No, no, no, no. no. no. no…"
"Christine," Sam whispered, "We need to go."
"No!" I yelled.
"Chris," Dean pleaded.
"I can't leave her!" I sobbed.
"We'll give her a funeral," Dean assured me, "But for now you have to get up. She wanted you to be strong, remember?"
"But I can't…" I wept.
"Come on," Dean muttered, pulling me up and leading me away.
"No!" I protested, trying to run back to her. Dean retaliated by picking me up by the waist and throwing me over his shoulder. I saw Sam pick up Becca's body, looking down sadly at her.
"She can't be dead," I sobbed as Dean later plopped me down in the back seat of the impala, "She can't be."
"I'm so sorry, Chris," Dean said softly, looking down, "Stay here. I'll come get you once the funeral pyre is set up. You want to give her a hunter's funeral, right?"
I couldn't process any information right now. My sister was dead. My baby sister, Becca, was dead. And I didn't do anything to stop it. She was dead, and she wasn't coming back. I would never hear her laugh again, never see her smile. I'd never wake up to her cheerful voice or be kept up all night by her philosophical questions. She was gone. And it was hitting me hard.
I forced myself to think logically. That's how I usually got through any emotional crisis. Why should this be any different? Right. Think, Christine. Funeral. What had Dean asked? A hunter's funeral. Yes. I nodded weakly. Dean walked off to join his brother. I don't know how much time passed before he came to get me. I wordlessly followed him. There were no more tears rolling down my cheeks. I had cried so much that I don't think I had any tears left to cry.
The sight before me almost conjured tears out of nothing. Becca was completely wrapped in white cloth and was set upon a large stack of sticks and hay, probably stolen from a local barn. Sam was already there, staring blankly.
"Do you want to say anything, Chris?" Dean asked softly. I shook my head. "Sam?" He shook his.
"Well, I do," Dean said, "Becca…You were truly amazing. We're all going to miss you. Rest peacefully."
With that, she lit the base of the pyre with his lighter. He must have doused it with fuel earlier, because it lit up like a Christmas tree. I stood there silently, staring into the flames as they engulfed the remains of my sister. I vowed right then and there that I would do anything and everything I could to help the Winchesters destroy the evil bastard that was responsible for this, once and for all.