Dean woke up early to grab a bite to eat. He walked out of the guest bedroom in his boxers, headed to the fridge, hoping to god that there was some human food.
As he shuffled to the kitchen, he felt a breeze coming off of the balcony. Dean turned to see why it was open only to see Abby standing in her long white nightgown, her dark, wavy hair down her back. As he was going to say good morning, he noticed something strange. She was sliding her talisman bracelet off her wrist. As it hit the concrete patio, she glided further out onto the porch. She was watching the sun rise over the ocean. The stream of light moved closer and closer to her on the patio. And that's when she stuck her arm out. She tilted her head back, with tears streaming down her face in pain, as the smell of burning flesh wafted through the room.
"ABBY," Dean screamed.
Abby turned towards him with a look of complete horror and embarrassment.
"Dean…" she whispered while keeping her hand in the torturing light.
He ran to her and tried to pull her into the shadowy confines of the house. And she fought.
"NO," she screamed. "Just leave me! Let me go! I can't do this anymore! I can't be alone!"
He gripped her harder and pulled back roughly. The tension snapped as they tumbled down on the floor together.
"Abby!? Are you ok? What the hell is wrong with you," he yelled while squatting in front of her slumped figure.
Dean gently picked up her arm to survey the damage. Her usually perfect skin was bubbling and peeling from her hand to the middle of her forearm.
"Christ," he whispered. He looked up to her face. Her eyes would not meet his gaze as she stared off at a distant place. The only remnants of the tears were the marks down her beautiful face.
"Dean! What's wrong," Sam asked as he clumsily made his way from his bedroom.
"Sam, go get the first aid kit. Now!"
"But why," Sam inquired a little groggy.
"Now, Sam," he ordered.
Sam emerged out of his bedroom with their homemade first aid kit.
"What's that smell," he asked as he handed Dean the box with all the essentials. That's when he looked down to Abby's arm. "Dean…what happened?"
She interrupted him as he was going to fill Sam in on the details.
"You should have let me do it," she whispered.
"Do what," Sam asked confused. He looked up to Sam and saw his face change in acknowledgement.
Sam bent down next to him and started to fumble through the emergency supplies. He grabbed some gauze bandage wraps and ran over to the kitchen sink to soak them in cold water. He came back over to Abby and proceeded to clean the wounds. She hissed with pain.
"Shouldn't they have started healing by now," Sam asked.
It was then Dean remembered that he hadn't seen her eat, not once. She had been preparing to be weaker and to go faster. When he thought of that it made him angry. It wasn't like it was a split second crazy decision. Abby had been planning it.
Abby turned her head to stare at Dean as she heard his thoughts. Her angry gaze would be enough to scare any normal person, but not him.
"Why, Abby," he asked.
"Why, Dean," she hissed in response. Her incensed eyes were still locked with Dean's as Sam started to wrap the wound with the moist gauze.
She was angry and he was furious.
"Sam, I'm going out. Make her drink something. I'll be back soon," he said as he went to his room to change. "Oh and Sam, if she tries to hurt you or do anything else stupid today, feel free to use some dead man's blood to knock her on her ass until I get back."
Sam sat with a zombie at the kitchen table, slowly pushing the cup of blood towards her. She refused.
"Abby, please," he pleaded. "I'd rather you do this on your own with out me having to force you."
Her eyes slowly gazed up at him angrily, and she swiped the cup, guzzling it down before she slammed the cup on the table. The mug cracked all the way up, fracturing the once beautiful facets. Sam couldn't help but think of the similarities in their appearances.
He'd seen corpses that looked better than she presently appeared. Sam wasn't sure how her arm was going to heal. He did his best to clean and care for the wound, but he was afraid it would fester if she didn't try to mend.
"Listen," he started, looking down at the table, doodling absentmindedly with his finger. "I don't know what it's like…to lose a brother…and I hope that I never have to know. But Abby, just know you're not alone, ok? If you need to talk or anything, I'm here for you."
He raised his gaze to her face, surprised to find her looking back. Her eyes were vacant, but behind them he thought he saw a flash of hope. Hope is what she needed. Any why shouldn't she hope? She was going through a rough time but he knew Abby was strong. In fact, deep down, she was one of the bravest people he'd met. She'd been through so much in her life and had still managed to come out of it. And he truly believed this situation was no different.
"I'm not going to push you to talk if you don't want to. I just wanted to let you know that if you need anything…"
And she surprised him with a slight grin. She rose out of the chair and moved over to stand in front of him. Sam stood to meet her, towering over her small figure. He was surprised as she took him in her arms, resting her head against his chest. Sam found himself wrapping his arms around her, gently rubbing her back. He laid his head against her head, whispering reassurances. He glanced down to see her eyes drooping sleepily. He smiled slightly, before picking her up in his arms and carrying her to her bedroom. She didn't resist.
He laid her down gently on the bed, covering her with a sheet, being careful not to touch her injured arm.
"Get some rest," he whispered, as he moved the hair out of her face. She was fast asleep. Even though he knew Dean would want him to stand guard, that she might do something else, he left the room. She needed her privacy. But he would be there in an instant if another nightmare struck.
