A/N: Sorry for not getting this up sooner. You guys are just the best thing for my heart… Remember to Always Keep Fighting. Chin up and all that. Shout out to Hailstorm3 for her consistent support and friendship. Go check out her incredible stories as well! As always, I own nothing Supernatural.
Chapter 7:
Dean and Sam sat at the kitchen table, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to make a plan on what to do next. Sam's eyes were cloudy with confusion.
"The thing I don't get is she seemed fine to me. I thought we were on the same page finally. I missed it. I fucking missed it," Sam said. "It really felt like she had turned a corner… man, I dunno… maybe she had to fall just a little bit further. But last night was too fuckin' close. Last night can never, EVER happen again."
Dean was frustrated by the sheer emotion Krissy brought out in his usually even-tempered brother. He was used to being the one who needed to relax. He was not used to this particular shoe being on the other foot. He had to find a way to help him even out.
"Okay. Whadda' we know, Sammy? We know she's remembered or is remembering quickly the details of the rape. That's a big fuckin' deal all on its own, bro. We also know she can't be trusted to be alone, not until we're both positive she's not gonna try to off herself again."
"Right," Sam added, a spark showing in his eyes. "We also know she has a lot of valuable info for us when we talk to her. And yeah, one-on-one until we decide otherwise." He knew Gus would hate one-on-one, especially some of the more delicate particulars of it, but she would just have to find a way to deal with that. He would make sure she understood there was no leeway there. He was starting to feel better, more in control of himself after the out of control craziness of the night before.
"She'll also need to keep up with her wound care, plus now the arm. No excuses, no exceptions," Dean stated with a determined look in his eye.
"Agreed. We should try to keep the pain meds as far apart as we think she can tolerate. I don't want any trouble getting her off those," Sam added.
"Yep. So you go deal with why last night happened, and bring her up to speed on what we have going. Which means what SHE has going. Depending on her attitude, we'll go from there. Oh, and any additional info she gives you, we can add to the timeline later." Dean stood and headed for the refrigerator.
"She obviously needs professional help, Dean," Sam said from behind him.
Dean was incredulous. He turned and faced his brother. "Okay Sammy, you go find a wonderful therapist for a girl with a fake name and fake insurance. I hear shrinks are just dying to take on patients who can't pay. You run with that, Pocahontas."
"Yeah, I will," Sam retorted. "I'll give Jody a call and get her opinion. I'm sure she can give me a lead or two, you know, send me in the right direction."
"That's actually a good idea," Dean said. He turned back around, his way of ending the conversation.
Sam grabbed his third cup of coffee and started down the hall to Pixie's room, laptop in his other hand. He settled in the familiar recliner, watching her. He looked her arm over and put the back of his hand across her forehead. Cool. That was good. Later, he would clean her arm along with that neck bite that stubbornly refused to heal. But that would come after a well-needed talk.
He began to hear her stir about 45 minutes later. She was talking, definitely saying words. Sam leaned his ear closer. "Kill you", "Find you", "Never", and "Fucking ugly asshole" – all clearly heard. The ends of his mouth tipped upward at the last one. Not that any of this was amusing – it just sounded so much like his old fighting Gus. He missed that girl. He mourned her. His heart broke for her. He cursed the man who took that girl away from him. He looked forward to the day they stood eye to eye. He would thoroughly enjoy the time they spent together.
For a brief moment she had no real memory or thought of the night before, until she tried to shift herself up on the fluffy pink pillows underneath her. Her face twisted into a mask of pain.
"Holy fuck! Saaaammmmmm," she grit out.
He put his arm around her shoulder and propped her up with another pillow, giving her a quick kiss on the head and handing her an open bottle of water.
"Drink," he said.
She drank. And drank. She drank the whole bottle until it made crunching noises from being empty.
Sam added more pillows to keep her in a sitting position and to rest her arm on. She looked at him, then at her arm, then back to him.
She gave him one final look of defeat. "I suck so bad I can't even kill myself the right way. Did you swoop in and save the day, Sammy?" she asked with little emotion. Sam glared.
"Don't. Don't even make light. Barely, Gus. Sure, you're still with us, but you have no idea how close…" he trailed off, pissed.
"But I do, Sam. I was with my reaper. She was leading me through a field of wildflowers. I made a ring for my hair. And then… I woke up here just now."
Sam was shocked. His 16 year old sister was with her fucking REAPER. His eyes softened as they so often did at her. He sighed, running his hands through her pixie hair bed-head, and looking down at her hands that began to tremble. She wasn't sure what to say, or how to say it. She was all out of sarcasm and all out of hope. She turned her head to him, pained brown eyes to understanding brown eyes, and began to spill out her truth.
"I remember it all now. I remember it all and I can't handle it."
"You can. You will. You are so much stronger than this, Tink. But this IS not good. This is bad and I won't let it happen again to you. To us."
Krissy looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and yes, fear. She had an epiphany. She looked down.
"You want me gone," she whispered. "I totally get it. You need your old lives back – hunting things, blah de blah, the family blah blah. You miss the road. And I'm crazy as fuck, which I definitively proved last night. I'll be gone before the stitches come out."
Sam grabbed her chin and firmly turned her face to meet his, frustration and anger in his eyes. "Listen, Pixie, for the last time: You are our sister. No give backs. "He squeezed his fingers against her chin, not to hurt, but to make his point. "You are with us and we are with you. We aren't running from this. In fact, we are running toward this. I'm going to get you some real help and drag this out into the light. I know you're testing me right now, aren't you?" He looked at her sternly because he already knew the answer. "DO NOT bring up leaving us again, do you understand?"
She managed to nod her head in the affirmative, and he let go, resting his hand on under her chin as he did. She could still see his anger, tempered by his love.
"Sam, I'm so…," she began.
"Stop," he said.
She peered at him closely, trying to remember how easily she used to be able to read him. She used to read him so well, he was basically a puppet in her hands. So much had changed. He head was throbbing and so was her arm. She was so ashamed, she didn't dare ask for pain meds until he offered. She searched for her words carefully, and softly spoke them to her brother.
"You're going to do some kind of Winchester -sister-old-fashioned-beat-the-sense-into-me-thing aren't you? Right? Go ahead, Samson, just do it and get it over with. I deserve whatever's coming to me. I'm a liar, and I'm no good, and I'm crazy as fuck in about a hundred different ways. I know I deserve it," she admitted, keeping her eyes on her hands as she systematically picked at her cuticles.
Sam reached over and took her hands in his.
"Stop picking your cuticles, Guster. Just relax. He placed his hand against the side of her head and said "No more talk of beatings. Not that I don't agree with you that you certainly deserve a red ass, but I'm just not in the sister-beatin' mood today." He smiled at her and gave her a sly wink. "BUT, you're in deep shit. I have a long list of rules you'll follow and also goals we both expect you to meet on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis. Time to man up, Winchester."
"I'd rather just take the beating," she said slowly.
Dimples popped out on both sides of Sam's face. He understood. Pixie was not gonna like what the plan was, but by God he would walk her through each step day by day if necessary. And it probably would be.
*******************************************************************"Hold still," he said as his hand firmly held her arm in place as he cleaned it.
Eyes closed tightly, she couldn't keep the tears from tracing down her face. She gasped and pulled as he meticulously moved down her arm and across her wrist.
"Fuck, Sammy, stopstopstop," she begged.
"Uhnt-uh, Tink. Let me see that neck." He tilted her head to the side and murmured a curse under his breath. He began to wipe around the still red bite.
Krissy surprised herself, speaking clearly as the memory wafted up into her mind and out of her mouth. "He really enjoyed that one. Over and over and over he would come back to that spot. Said he loved to hear how I screamed when he did it." She looked over at him with plaintive eyes. "I screamed a lot."
Sam sat down, fully focused on his sister. He had heard a lot from Little, but this was the first time Pix was talking to Sam, fully aware. He held out his hand to her and she surprised herself for the second time by taking it, letting him comfort her by running his thumb across the top of her cuticle-torn hand. She closed her eyes and brought his cuff up to her nose.
"Uhhh… Tink?" he questioned.
"It's not that bad remembering if I can smell you, Sammy. It reminds me that I'm not there, ya know? Is that lame?" she asked.
"Nope, not at all, Gus. Whatever gets you there safe. That's all I care about," he answered, giving her hand a squeeze.
She took a breath of Sam in.
"He hated that I wouldn't scream at first. I wouldn't even when he hit me, even when he bit me hard." Her voice grew dark and low. "But then he started to talk about cutting me… you know… in "places"… and he kept biting that same spot on my neck, biting me all over. So I screamed. I screamed until I spit blood and he laughed. I hated myself for it. Sometimes I still do."
"You saved your own life by doing that," Sam stated with a calm voice. "Pixiedust, baby, you did what you had to do to survive and I'm so fucking proud of you. You used your head," he praised, feeling his cuff begin to get wet by her leaking tears.
"He would go and he would come back. I was tied up alot, but I could always smell him before I saw him coming. Oh God, that smell."
Sam could see her small diaphragm begin to rise and fall more rapidly and her grip began to tighten on him. She opened her mouth to continue, but a strong wheezing sound followed by a squeak came out instead. Sam leaned close, wrapping his arm all the way around her and speaking quietly in her ear.
"That's enough talk for now, Gus. Slow down, ok? You ok? Take some slow breaths with me like we do. Nice and slow. You did so good, baby, I'm so proud of you."
Her breathing began to slow and she lowered her eyes and closed them. "I'm not a baby, Sam," she said. "You keep calling me baby."
"You're right, Pix, you aren't a baby. But you aren't grown-up either. Doesn't matter anyhow, you will always be my baby, Gus. So shush."
She opened her eyes to a tissue being held out to her.
"Blow," he said.
"Seriously? For the love of God, Sam!"
"Just do it, brat," he teased. She blew gobs of grossness into his tissue. Served him right, she thought with sass.
"I want you to take these for pain and infection. Maybe later you can chill in the kitchen with us while we make dinner. And don't forget to wear that boot," he reminded her. "Do not get up without either Dean or I with you – and we'll know." He pointed to one of the many cameras he had set up to monitor her.
"House arrest? Come on, Sammy, this is bullshit."
"Watch that mouth of yours, and yeah you are, kinda. Swallow those pills and close those eyes. No arguing. See you when you wake up, babydoll. "He kissed the crown of her head and whispered "love you" to her.
"I have no clue why you do, but I'm glad you do," she whispered back. And she meant it more than almost anything she had ever said in her life. And then, dreamless and painless sleep fell upon her like a gift from heaven above.
