(Possible trigger warning! Stay safe!)
Chapter Nine: Serenity
"That's okay," he chokes. "That's perfectly fine. Help is coming."
Slowly, as you tug on Sam's shirt and he holds you, you start to feel again. Whatever part of you wanted you to feel starts to regret ever wanting that; the searing pain in your hips, the excruciating feel of your legs. For the first time, you lift your head to look at your own body, and you wish you never had.
Five days earlier
Morning faded into night, the time passing as molasses. Time itself almost didn't feel real without Dean. He got you up when you slept too late, he kept you busy throughout the day; he simply made time fly. The bunker, although graced by Sam's presence and occasionally Cas', was in limbo.
The first two days consisted of eating, sleeping, and talking with Sam. He was wonderful company - and afterward, you felt blessed - but without Dean, you felt like something was missing. You prayed he would get back soon to make something interesting happen.
Sam sits across from you, twirling his fork in his spaghetti. You do the same; play with your food rather than eat it. It's a trait both of you picked up from your mother.
Per usual, the room is silent, and your mind starts to wander. Maybe Dean is currently dicing vamps without a second thought. Could you walk across the entire earth? When is the last time you read a book...
Sam clears his throat, dragging you from your thoughts. You meet his hazel eyes, waiting for him to speak.
"I'm bored," he finally admits, sighing. "I know you are too."
It seems like Sam wants to say more, but he closes his mouth, thinking.
"What do you plan to do about that?" You ask, resting your elbows on the table and leaning in.
Sam wipes his mouth with his hand and gingerly meets your eyes. "Do you want to go see the ocean?"
You blink several times. "Sammy-"
"Yeah, it's a thousand miles away and would take a day to drive there," he interrupts. "But you wanted to see it. When Dean gets back, things go back to normal, and there will be no time between hunts to go. Besides, Dean isn't going to bring you on a hunt that far away." He takes a deep breath and blushes, and you can tell he's given it a lot of thought. "So, what do you say?"
"But Dean said-"
"Dean isn't here," he cuts you off again, already knowing the answer. "I won't let you get eaten by a shark, if that makes you feel more comfortable. It'll be just four days, you and me."
Sam furrows his eyebrows and gives you the puppy dog eyes that you can't say no to. You have to look away just to think.
Dean was serious about keeping you safe; completely safe, which meant staying in the bunker. But you want to go more than anything.
"Dean doesn't find out," you state.
"He won't." Sam grins, putting his hand on top of yours. "I promise you won't regret it. It's so beautiful."
You know he's probably right, but you still have a sinking feeling that Dean will be angry. Gradually, you let that slip away, smiling back at Sam.
You're going to see the ocean.
Sam's hair sways in the wind, the impala's engine rumbles, and the radio blasts a rhythm that forces you to sing along.
Serenity.
You're tired from all the driving, but you feel so alive and unrestricted that you can't shut your eyes. You can't miss anything. Dean is an incredible brother, but in his attempts to protect you, he held you back. Now, you can stop at the gas station and leave the radio blasting because you don't care what people think. You can live in what feels like luxury; going to an actual restaurant, buying a pair of sunglasses and a swimsuit, stopping for nothing.
Sam seems more relaxed too. This cleanse it just what you two needed.
The world looks like it is shaded pink and blue through your sunglasses, and you can't stop looking out the window to see everything as brand new. At a stoplight, you glance back at Sam, and catch him snapping a picture of you on his phone. You swat him away, and he laughs, which - of course - is contagious.
The stars look even brighter in the country on this winding road, scattered through the sky like twinkling freckles.
Summit County, Utah, is where you pass at midnight. A mountain towers above your little black car, and the pines carry a fresh scent that you can't stop breathing, no matter how many times Sam says to "roll up the window! I'm cold!"
"Eureka!" You cheer when you enter Eureka County, Nevada. Sam only rolls his eyes.
The town looks like the old west; an opera house, dry plains, run down mills. The vibe is sluggish, but unorthodox.
"Is that it?" You gasp as you drive past a huge body of water, outlined by mountains and deep green trees.
Sam snickers. "No, no. That's Clear Lake." He gives you the 'that was adorable' look, and you groan.
Two more hours and you'll be there. You fidget, talk too much, and feel a bubble rising in your chest. You don't care that Dean could get mad about this. You're so close.
California greets you with open arms. The houses and plants and people are drastically different than Kansas, but you'd seen pictures. Somehow, it feels like you had always been there.
You tilt your head out the car window. "What's that smell?"
"That would be the ocean," Sam replies softly.
Salty air fills your lungs. Your dream is coming true. "We're that close?"
"Yeah," Sam grins at how excited you are. "I was thinking we get a hotel room, and then we can-"
"No," you breathe. "Ocean."
Sam chuckles. "Okay. Ocean first."
Rockport is littered with mountains, in which the impala maneuvers gracefully. The roads wind through them and around them, a rollercoaster leading you closer by the second. The sun hangs high in the sky and the salty smell only becomes stronger.
Sam pulls into a vacant parking lot and you both get out, grabbing your sunglasses. Sam only brings his phone, directing you toward the beach. You forgot your bathsuit and all else, the sea salt air bringing you peace; yet adrenaline also takes over you. It's just the ocean, why are you so worked up?
You have never seen a bluer blue.
White tipped waves crash along the shore of gray sand, washing shells and seaweed toward you. Gulls call in the distance. And the blue, the bluest blue, goes on and on forever, out of your line of sight. Bigger than you ever imagined. Pictures did not capture its beauty.
"Hey, you okay?"
You blink, looking up at Sam, whose eyebrows are furrowed in concern.
"Sammy," you choke, hugging him before he can see you cry. "Thank you."
It wasn't just the magnificent sea, it was the gesture. Twenty-six hours of driving with no rest is the best gift Sam could've given you, and he plans to do it again when he drives you home. You feel so blessed.
His strong arms tug you closer as he sighs, "Don't thank me. You deserve to see this." He pulls away. "Now go knock yourself out."
Sam sits back on the sand while you run - or limp - along the shore, kick the sand, and jump the waves. You clothes are soaked, but you're having too much fun to stop. It's like childhood all over again.
Everything around you is surreal. As you sit down beside Sam after a long period of splashing, you realize how lucky you are to have had this opportunity.
Waves rise and fall before you, and you close your eyes, listening to every one.
Serenity.
"I found this." You pass Sam a smooth, white shell. "It's for you."
"So sweet." Sam smiles, pulling up his phone. "Let me take a picture of you."
"Why," you groan. "My hair is all frizzy from the wind and-"
"Trust me, you'll want this when you can't remember if we actually went to the ocean."
"You think I'll forget?"
Sam snorts. "No. You'll just want a reminder." He raises a brow. "Picture time!"
Sam took several pictures of you throughout the day, which was unusual, because he normally didn't do that.
You ask him later at the Rockport Hotel. Not only was the ocean breathtaking, but the hotel had six stories, and you were on the top floor. You had never slept higher in your life. The blankets were warm and fuzzy, and as you turn to Sam - who lies on the bed next to yours - you have to brush them away.
"Why are you taking so many pictures all of a sudden?" You ask. "You're not the photographer type."
"Oh really?" Sam jokes. "Not the photographer type?"
"I just... I mean that you don't really take pictures. Ever."
There is a long pause, Sam's steady breaths filling the room. You think for a moment he fell asleep, but then he responds.
"You think this is the first time I've taken pictures?"
You roll on your side to face him in the dark. "Yes?"
"Y/N, I've always taken pictures of you. I... I guess maybe this is the first time you've actually seen me do it."
More silence, but this time, it's you. Always? That's a long time.
"Since when?"
"Since... I guess since I got a phone with a camera." Sam rolls too, the sheets rustling. "Seven, eight years?"
"No," you blurt. "You have not had that phone for seven years."
Sam laughs. "No, but I've saved the pictures. On this phone I only have three years worth."
You chuckle. "Stalker."
Sam sighs dramatically, and you laugh. "Shut up, Y/N. You're a cute kid." He pauses. "I kinda felt like... Like I needed to show people that, you know? Not like anyone sees them, but I feel like I need proof of how far you've come."
You smile to yourself. "That's so sweet, Sammy. You should show me sometime."
"Okay," he breathes.
Silence engulfs the room once more, and you snuggle into your bed, resting your heavy eyelids.
"Goodnight, Sammy."
"Goodnight, Y/N."
Golden California sunshine floods your hotel room the next morning, embracing a new day. This is your last day; later tonight, you and Sam will have to head out if you want to make it back before Dean returns.
Sam, being an early bird, headed out to get breakfast for you two. You got up to shower and figure out what you could do that day, which meant researching tourist attractions and the like.
You sit on the edge of your bed with Sam's laptop, trying to narrow down your options. However, every time you try, you think of Dean. He probably would've hated a trip to the ocean, but you think he could've had fun. Still, you feel bad that everything is behind his back.
You find yourself snatching the notepad and pen from the nightstand and writing Dean an apology letter. That way, if he doesn't find out, you can rid of it. If he does, you can slide it under his door and give him time to process it. It seems like a decent idea.
It takes several tries for you to even focus your thoughts, but you manage, and complete a lengthy letter with "Dearest brother, Dean" and everything. You made sure to include how much you loved him and how much you never meant to hurt his feelings, just in case the whole thing becomes a huge deal.
Just as you tuck it into your suitcase, Sam returns, carrying two drinks and a brown paper bag.
"Thought you'd want some hot chocolate and muffins," he smiles, showing his handsome, white teeth.
"You shouldn't have!" You cheer, sitting down to indulge with him.
After the quick meal, you pack up and head out, spending the day driving to different places along the shoreline. You work on your tan, jump the waves, and genuinely enjoy your time with Sam. He shows you all the different sea life - explaining how they evolved the way they did - and keeps taking pictures. You get used to it, but still find it strange that he had done it all those years.
While sitting on the hood of the impala with Sam, your phone begins to buzz, and you panic.
"It's Dean," you breathe.
Sam's eyes widen. "Just answer it. Pretend... Pretend we're in the bunker."
You curse at him before answering. "Hey, Dean."
"How's it goin', Y/N?" Dean says on the other line, very breathy.
You squint. "You been running or something? You sound tired."
Sam eyes at you while Dean replies, "Yeah. Chasing vamps isn't as easy on foot. How's baby?"
You laugh. "Don't worry, she's okay. And Sam is fine too, not that you care-"
Sam rolls his eyes as if to say, "Of course he doesn't ask about me."
"I do, ugh, I do. Just scatterbrained right now." He pauses. "So everything is okay?"
"Boring, sure," you joke. You're not even close to bored.
Dean is quiet for a while on the other line. "Okay. I'll see you soon, Junior."
You bite your lip and sigh. "I miss you."
Once again, silence, except for a quiet chuckle from Dean's end. "I miss you too. Hey, it'll be back to normal in no time."
"Okay," you eventually agree. "I love you."
"Love you, Y/N. Stay sane."
The line disconnects, and you look at Sam. He's smirking at you, as if he has something over you.
"What?" You snap jokingly.
"What'd he say? Did he say 'love you' back?"
You groan. "Yes, actually. Unlike you."
"What!" Sam punches your shoulder. "You know I love you."
"Ugh, I know. You brought me all this way..."
"Yeah," he crosses his arms. "Be grateful."
"I am. Thank you, Sam."
"Hey, it's my pleasure."
It was, indeed, Sam's pleasure to bring you there, but he - in the end - had to bring you home too.
The sky became darker on your trip back, as if to convey how sad the ocean was for your leaving. Winding roads weren't as exciting and neither were the gas stops in which you and Sam would point out strangers and try to guess what they were like. The radio was quieter and the conversations were more sporadic. It was almost as if you both knew how boring life was going to be, and now you had to start getting used to it.
"Sammy?"
Breaking the silence was the hardest part of the journey, but you did it.
"Y/N?"
You sigh, putting your legs onto the dashboard. Whenever your legs have cramped - it happened more, after your injury - you've done this. "This is going to sound stupid, but... We need to start making our lives more exciting."
Sam chuckles. "That does sound odd."
"Just... Hear me out." You pause to pivot your body toward him. "I had the best experience of my life this week. But I don't want our normal life to be a drag now that we've had so much fun, you know?"
The flat road through a large field comes to a cross, and Sam stops at the sign, looking to you. The late afternoon has set in, spreading shadows across the impala, especially with the dark clouds.
"You're right," he states. "We need to embrace our lives and enjoy them."
You groan. "That makes my idea sound cliché."
Sam laughs, starting ahead again as he looks you over. "Don't sweat it."
You don't know what happened.
One moment, you were laughing with Sam, the next, you were lying on the pavement.
There was a screeching of tires, and suddenly, a horrible smashing sound of metal striking metal. You felt yourself being crushed by the weight of the car, and then - within seconds - flung out onto the solid ground. Glass shattered around you as you made impact, and you lost consciousness, slipping into a deep darkness that flooded in from the corners of your vision.
"Y/N!"
You take a ragged breath and try to open your swollen eyes.
"Oh my god..."
Every breath you take hurts, but as adrenaline sets in, you start to feel numb. When your blurry vision clears, you can see Sam above you, clutching you close.
"Talk to me," he pleads. "Can you hear me?"
A groan escapes your lips, and Sam takes that as a sign. He sobs, smoothing your hair back. "Shh, it's going to be okay." As he says it, in the distance, you hear sirens drawing nearer.
Everything feels surreal as you tilt your head to look around. The impala is laying on the opposite side of the road; upside down. The windshield has a huge hole in it, and when you see it, it starts to feel real. You flew through the windshield.
As you take more unsteady breaths, you see the other car. The whole front end is smashed, and impaled, draped over the steering wheel inside, is the driver. He didn't make it, and somehow, you did.
"Sam," you rasp.
"Save your breath," he whispers, stroking your cheek.
You weakly grab his shirt in your fist. "Sammy... I can't feel anything..."
And it's true. The numbness takes over your whole body and your brain is so scattered, you can't even decide if that's a good thing. The sirens are getting closer.
Dazed, you glance into Sam's eyes. They are red and watering, trying to stay strong in front of you, despite how scared he is. You want to apologize, staring at his cut and bloodied face. Maybe if you weren't distracting him in the car...
"That's okay," he chokes. "That's perfectly fine. Help is coming."
Slowly, as you tug on Sam's shirt and he holds you, you start to feel again. Whatever part of you wanted you to feel starts to regret ever wanting that; the searing pain in your hips, the excruciating feel of your legs. For the first time, you lift your head to look at your own body, and you wish you never had.
Your abdomen is soaked in blood, a shard of glass emerging from your gut. The flesh on your hips is torn and revealed, pieces of metal scattered throughout. But your legs - the limbs on the dashboard at the time - are bent and smashed at such strange angles you can't even tell they're legs anymore. When the car hit, you must've folded in half.
"Don't look," Sam coaxes, mostly to remind himself, as he leans your head back. "Look at me, okay?"
Every breath you take is now thick, and you realize it must be because your lungs are filling with fluid.
"Sammy," you barely manage. "I don't think... I don't think I'm going to... Going to make it..."
You close your eyes for a long time, stumbling on the edge of consciousness, fading in and out of your memories.
"Don't play around with my car," Dean snaps.
When you open your eyes, Sam is shaking his head to you and trying not to sob. "You will. You're strong, Y/N." He brushes a strand of hair away from your face. "Remember, you were a vampire once. You can beat a stupid car crash..."
"Sammy..." you try to argue.
"I don't want to hear that. Just rest," Dean says by your bedside as you recover from being cured.
"But, Dean," you persist, "I know you feel awful about what happened. It's all my fault. Please don't blame yourself."
Dean takes your hand and squeezes it between his. "I said I don't want to hear it. Not yet." He takes a breath. "I could've lost you today. I just need some time to be grateful that you're alive."
Sam kisses your forehead. "Stay with me, okay? Talk to me."
Dean half-laughs. "You know, Dad always said-"
You and Sam groan, but join in with Dean to complete the phrase. "You can never be too careful."
The sky is dark grey, with wisps of white; you focus on it to distract yourself. The help will be here soon.
Dean smirks, raising the focus mitts. "That's my girl."
"Remember..." You mumble, gasping for breath.
"How is it not my fault?" Dean hollers from the hallway. You're still in the cage, listening in.
"No one could've planned for this," Sam retaliates.
Sam blinks away a tear. "Yes?"
"And I would never, ever dream of hurting you, Y/N. I'd rather die."
The ocean waves come to mind as you watch Sam's hair blowing in the wind, and you smile softly.
"Remember what I told you about... What I want..." The words come slow and heavy. "After..."
Sam pulls away and wraps his arms around you, pressing his forehead against your chest. "You scared us, Y/N," he manages to whisper through tears. "You scared me."
"No," Sam snaps. "We're not talking about that right now."
Pain flushes up your spine and you wince. "I'm so sorry..."
"Oh, Hon'..." Dean whispers, pulling you into a strong hug. "I forgive you. Don't be sorry about that. It was a million years ago."
"Stop it," Sam cries. "Just stop it. You're gonna be okay."
"Remember, take her home, and stay there. I don't want her getting hurt while I'm gone."
The sides of your vision become blurry and the flashes of pain keep coming. "I never... I never thought it'd be just a car crash..."
"Yeah. Straight home." Dean becomes more serious. "No detours, no nothing. Just go home and take care of her, will you?"
"And not some monster..." you finish, closing your eyes.
Dean's angry tone becomes soft. "Just a week. Well, six days; tops. You can make it that long, can't you?"
Sam cries out now, not holding it back any longer. "Y/N... Come on..."
"Not one scratch, Sam!"
"Oh my god... Please..."
"I love you, you know that?"
"Please hang on a little longer..."
"I know! I just... I want you to know that you're loved."
You open your eyes again and cough, choking for a moment before you suck in a breath.
"Y/N, just listen for a minute, will you?" Sam interrupts again. "Listen to me. I'm not leaving you."
"Sammy," you mumble.
Sam wipes your face. "Yes? I'm here..."
"She's too perfect to be a Winchester."
"Please, Sammy, don't blame yourself."
"She's better than all of us."
"Promise me you won't blame yourself."
Sam sniffs and nods vigorously. "Okay... I- Okay."
You let your eyes flutter shut as you shake with another hot flash of pain. "Thank you."
"Y/N?" Sam shouts.
"I love you," you grunt, struggling to breathe. "And... Dean... I love him too..."
Sam shakes with sadness. "I love you. God, I love you, Y/N. I love you so much..."
You convulse with each flash of pain, fluid building in your lungs and blood flowing from your wounds.
Dean has composed himself more and runs a hand over your head as you blink through sleepiness. "We've got you, Y/N. We'll be here when you wake up."
More spasms come every second, and the ringing in your ears covers the sounds of Sam's shrieking. You're terrified, but ready for what's to come.
Only for a moment, you feel uncontrollable pain radiating in your body.
The next, there is nothing. No pain, no sound; nothing.
Serenity.
