Chapter Ten: Out of the Fire

Reader pov

Your eyes snap open wide and you suck in a deep breath. A single breath turns into two, and suddenly you find yourself hyperventilating. You blink rapidly, trying to figure out where you are. You just had an awful nightmare that a mugger slit your throat...

"Calm down. Your breathing is annoying."

You whip your head to the side and see the man in the black coat wiping off his blade. He can't really be here... He just killed you... He just slit your throat... This isn't happening...

At the time, you had no idea what was going on. You know now that Crowley didn't want you dead. He needed you.

"Wait," Crowley paused. "Were you not with the Winchesters a week ago?"

You violently shake your head. "N-No! I don't know who they are! Please, you have to believe me!"

It wasn't until they rescued you that you figured out who the Winchesters were.

"Well that sure explains your lack of knowledge," Crowley groans. "Well, I'm Crowley, current king of Hell. No, I am not Satan. I'm a demon."

You are shaking as you stare at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. Vicky had been a demon... This isn't real. Sam promised it wouldn't catch up with you. You had escaped...

"Angel blade," Crowley explains, holding up the long silver blade. "Very effective on people like you. Yes, I just slit your throat. No, you aren't dead. I healed you with my demon powers. It's more fun when you stay alive."

"W-what's more fun when I stay alive?" you stutter, still very confused.

"Why, torturing you of course! Got to get the information anyway. Might as well have some fun." Crowley smiles mischievously as he spins the blade.

"I don't know ANYTHING," you plead. "Please, please let me go!"

Crowley shook his head. "I need to keep an eye on you. Your power is only going to grow."

Before you knew it, Crowley was slamming the door to your cell. A door that wouldn't open again for two months. It wouldn't open even after you had screamed your throat raw. It wouldn't open more than a crack to allow you to get your food, which only occurred every now and then. You never ate much as it was, but the cell changed you. You would starve, and the door wouldn't open still. The slamming of the cell still haunts you.

Instantly, you sit up straight in bed, sweating profusely. Somehow, you had let yourself fall asleep. However scared you were, the safety of the bunker surrounds you and quickly reminds you how far you've come. The suffering is over.

Or is it? You're going to keep having nightmares for who knows how long. All because you met those Winchesters. They ruined your life and scarred you; permanently. Fury rises in your chest.

You throw off the covers and storm out of your room. Sure, you don't know where you're going, but you're determined to find them.

You open random doors, only finding empty beds, the kitchen, a weapons closet... How big is this place? You feel like you're in a maze.

You keep looking, hallway after hallway. That's when you see a light. You carefully follow it around a corner and realize it's hanging in the hallway right above a few rooms you hadn't checked. You storm up to one and bang your fist against the door.

You hear rustling, a thud, and then the door quickly opens. A frantic Sam stands before you. "Oh my god, Y/N? What's wrong?"

"You're what's wrong," you shout, jabbing his chest with your finger. "How could you?"

Sam furrows his eyebrows, utterly confused, as Dean's door opens. "What's going on?" He asks groggily.

"You lied to me," you snarl. "It wasn't enough for you to avoid the truth. You had to lie. You ruined me. RUINED ME!"

"Just calm down-" Sam starts to say.

"Shut up! Stop trying to suppress my feelings!" you clench your fists. "You have no right to treat me like I'm weak. Not after what i've been through."

Dean steps closer. "He didn't mean that, Y/N-"

"And you!" you interrupt. "Treating me like a good friend of yours. You DO realize you made me kill my best friend, right? We didn't 'bond' over that experience, Dean. So you can stop talking." You forcefully turn back to Sam. "Winchesters. I heard things, but I never thought those imbecile murderers could be you." Sam and Dean exchange a guilty look, and you continue. "Apocalypse? Leviathans? You KILLED death. Not only have you ruined the world on MULTIPLE occasions, but I heard you stopped exorcising demons. Too much work to actually save lives, right?"

"Did Crowley tell you this?" Sam interjects defensively.

"No. Prisoners told me," you snap. "Want to know where I've been the past year? On vacation. In Hell. The first few months were fine. Sure, I was starving and suffering, but he didn't torture me in the beginning. After I adjusted to my new life and became comfortable with never seeing the light of day again, it wasn't that bad. It was a living hell, but hey. All in a day's work, right?" You look them both up and down. "Ever been to hell?"

The boys exchange another long look before they both nod. You can see immense pain behind their eyes; not just guilt about what they let you go through, but pain of their own. They had both been to Hell. They were in the same boat.

You try to say something like "I'm sorry, I had no idea" or "then you should understand what I'm going through and you should be more understanding," but all you manage to spit out is: "What? Both of you?"

Sam inhales deeply while Dean explains. "Uh, yeah... I sold my soul, and Sam jumped into Lucifer's cage."

"Why would you do that?" Stop talking. Stop talking... You're just curious and shocked.

"Dean sold his soul to bring me back from the dead," Sam replies quietly, giving his brother a look that seems like a cross between anger and compassion.

"And Sam jumped into a cage to stop the apocalypse," Dean adds, returning the look. "He was possessed by Lucifer. It was the only way to get that son of a bitch in there."

You shake your head. "How are you still alive? I mean, how did you come back?"

"Cas. The angel guy who's been around," Dean explains calmly. "Pulled me out of the fire."

You bite your lip. How could you? They were the Winchesters. You should've assumed they had been to Hell. Why did you have to ask all those questions?

You're not satisfied, though. After a long silence, you clear your throat. "I guess you understand then, don't you." It comes out harsher than you mean. "Why I'm angry."

Sam turns to Dean before gradually looking into your eyes. "Yes."

You hold strong, not looking away. "You rescued me. I will always be grateful for that," you take a breath. "But you promised me, Sam. To my face you told me it wouldn't catch up with me." Sam opens his mouth to speak, but you keep going. "You told me to do two things. First you told me to get the tattoo. I got it, I swear. It didn't stay for very long." You leave it up to Sam to figure out why. Did you really have to give him the exact details of Crowley's little games? "What else? You told me to stay away. Never talk to anyone, including you, ever again. Never go back. Start over." A tear slides down your cheek as your raise your voice. "I started over, Sam! They found me after I had barely gotten to the coast... How did they find me? You said I would be safe... Sam, you promised me."

Sam had his mouth closed tight and his expression rigid, but you could see how hard it was for him to think about what he let you go through. Guilt.

"Am I just another girl to you?" You ask, your voice cracking. "Another girl you rescue and throw aside to be mauled by demons?"

Sam shakes his head, the first response since you started lecturing him. "Of course not," his voice pleads. "I..."

"Don't," you interrupt sharply, your eyes clouded with tears. "Don't say that you're sorry. I'm not ready to accept a half-hearted apology yet."

Sam swallows hard, thinking deeply for a moment, his eyes wet and his eyebrows furrowed. "I can't apologize for what Crowley did to you. I can never take that away." You tilt your head, asking for him to continue. "But you have to believe that I thought you'd be safe. I would never wish this on you, or anyone. I... I can't undo it, but I can give you my apology and all of the time you may need. I don't expect forgiveness. I don't deserve it. But I'm here for you, Y/N, if you find a way to look past what I've done."

You look him up and down, drops running down your cheeks. He laid everything he had out in front of you, seamless, and you knew in that moment that he had been thinking about it for a long time. He had been planning his words for who knows how long. Maybe when you got off the bus. Maybe when you returned. He was hurt by your words, even if he deserved them. You didn't know what else to say to him. You couldn't forgive him - not yet - but you could offer him a second chance. He deserved that, in the very least.

Words don't work for you, so you lower your eyes and lean into him, pulling him into a hug. As you start to sob like a fool, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight. You close your eyes and swear that you can hear him crying a little too.

After a minute or so, you pull away, wiping your eyes and reluctantly meeting his. He smiles weakly back at you. "Can we start over?" you barely whisper.

Sam nods slowly, a bigger smile spreading across his face. "I'd like that."

You laugh gently under your breath, turning to Dean, who just witnessed the entire fight and sappy-ness... He wears a soft smile on his face as well.

"Well?" you tease Dean, "You want a hug too?"

Dean grins, spreading his arms. "Don't mind if I do."

He struts over to you - with his stupid yet adorable smirk - and hugs you around the shoulders, rocking you back and forth. You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. "Thanks, Dean."

He squeezes your shoulders, releasing you. "Anytime. You know where to find me."

You step back, examining both boys tenderly. "Uh, sorry I exploded at you..."

Dean shrugs and Sam shakes his head. "Don't be," Sam replies.

You stand for another minute awkwardly before you speak up again. "So... I don't know how to get back, uh, to my room... I barely found my way here..."

Sam gets the hint. "Don't worry. I'll bring you back." He turns to Dean. "You can go get your beauty rest."

Dean shrugs and lumbers back to his room while Sam puts his hand on your shoulder. "This way."

You let him lead you through the maze and back to your room. You didn't speak while you wandered, but let him rest his warm, strong hand on your shoulder to guide you. Before you knew it, you were at your door.

"Well, what do ya know," you say in wonder. "We're back."

"Seems that way," Sam half-laughs, letting his arms fall to his sides.

You walk inside, looking around; just in case a demon found its way inside. You find yourself even checking under the bed. You hear Sam's footsteps as he enters behind you, opening random drawers.

"Nothing in here," he updates you, opening a closet. "Or here..."

You appreciate him going along with your stupid searching. Of course you're safe, but you want to make sure. "Good," you respond, walking toward your bed and sitting down. What if they did find a way inside though? "Sam, is there any possible way a demon get in here? In the bunker?"

He spins in a circle, making sure he checked every corner. "No way. You're absolutely safe."

You sit cross-legged on your bed. "The warding. I forgot."

Sam laughs softly, not meeting your eyes. "Yeah. It's pretty high tech. I think it's incredible."

Eventually, you shift and slide your legs under the covers, laying down all the way. Sam looks over and smiles weakly. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N," he says, backing away. "That is, if you don't sleep for a hundred years..."

You force out a little chuckle, but as Sam starts to close the door and the darkness fills the room, you start to panic, sitting up. "Sam, wait!" You couldn't stop yourself.

Sam slowly opens the door, tilting his head in concern. You take in a shaky breath. Don't. You'll be fine. You don't want to have another dream, because you know that they're really memories. That really happened to you. It's terrifying.

You clear your throat. "I... I know they're just dreams... I mean... I know I'm safe..."

Sam steadily enters the room, closing the door behind him and turning on a lamp. He walks past your bed, pulling a blanket off the top of a cabinet, and walking to your side. He says nothing as he sits beside your bed, his back against the frame. Suddenly, his sonorous voice cuts through the silence. "Is it alright if I stay here?"

You pause, listening to the sound, before nodding. After a second, you realize he can't see you nodding, so you vocalize, "Yeah... Yes..."

Sam takes a deep breath. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You breathe deep as well, grateful you didn't have to ask him for anything. He knew what you needed. "Goodnight, Sam." You lay down, turning on your side so you are facing him, even though his back is turned. You smile softly as you drift to sleep.