Lots of dialogue in this chapter and just to forewarn you, the subject matter gets a bit disturbing when Carter recounts her story. There's also a little glimpse inside Dean this chapter that I enjoyed writing.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural related, only my OC's!
"How is he?" Carter asked Sam a short while after her run-in with Cas.
The weary Sam offered Carter a weak smile. He had been monitoring Dean's condition since they arrived at the hospital over twelve hours ago.
"They've just taken him off a breathing tube. He was awake for a little while but he's sleeping now," Sam reported, a look of worry washing over his face.
"He'll be ok, Sam. Don't forget he's got angels riding his shoulder," she tried to comfort but only made him scoff.
Sam sighed again and glanced back at Dean's room.
"Listen, could you watch him for a bit? I need to get some sleep but I don't want to leave him alone," Sam explained.
"I don't..." Carter started but was cut off as Sam already started backing up.
"Just for a couple hours, Carter. I'll be back before you know it," he rounded the corner, out of her sight.
She sighed and hesitantly gazed at the door before walking into Dean's room. The poor hunter, Carter saw, was in a terrible state. Carter uncomfortably sat in a chair next to his bed as she tried to ignore the dark bruises darkening his face.
She sighed.
Something was different inside her. Never, in her life…or death for that matter, has she ever been comfortable around a man. She may hate his guts, but Carter has noticed that when she's around Dean, she's more at peace than she has been in a long time.
Why you? Of all people, why is it that you make me feel this way? She thought with her head cocked as she observed the sleeping hunter, I mean, you torture me in hell, find any way possible to annoy me…but still…
Carter's thoughts drifted off and she found herself inching herself closer to the bedside. When Dean's eyes fluttered open, she half-smirked, "What's up, Doc?"
"You know if you keep your face like that it'll get stuck that way," he remarked in a scratchy, throaty voice making Carter's smirk instantly fade. She dropped her head, a wave of guilt passing over her.
"I...tried..." she started but couldn't say anything else.
An almost deafening silence filled the room as question after question burned through their minds. Carter held her head low and Dean only watched.
"Can you tell me?" Dean finally broke the silence.
Carter raised her head, tired and confused. The two hunter's gazed in each other's beaten eyes. Carter took in a deep breath and recounted, in great detail, to Dean who she is.
"My mom was a big time hunter. Her family had been hunters for centuries dating God only knows how far. She was good, I've never met a better hunter than my mom," Carter praised, picturing her mother's beautiful face with a smile.
"My dad," she continued with disdain, "Was a hot shot lawyer fresh out of Harvard. He was unbeatable and got a big head about it too. Cocky s.o.b. had connections everywhere and his influence was felt all the way up to Congress. They met while my mom was on a hunt. All of his smack couldn't protect him from a poltergeist. Still, my mom fell head over heels for him. She soon got pregnant with Todd and was quick to uproot her life and move permanently on the east coast with her new fiancé. They got married just before Todd was born," she stopped there, thinking if they had just ended with Todd she wouldn't have had to deal with this crap in her life.
"Anyway...in the years before I was born, Todd became my dad's poster-child, teaching him everything about the business and how to con your way into the higher-class society. Things were going great for my dad until I was born. I was a mistake and not wanting to blame himself or my mother, I was blamed. And he never let me forget what a worthless mistake I was, even if I was just baby," she paused again to calm herself with another deep breath.
"After me, my mom started hunting again and teaching my brother and me. I was only five when I handled my own vengeful spirit for the first time. My mom spent more and more time with my brother and me and less with my father. We were gone for weeks on end, driving her attention away from him. Naturally, my dad couldn't blame Todd. He was the golden boy. And he loved my mom too much to get angry with her. He saved all of his anger for me."
"Sometimes when my mom would leave us home for a big hunt, my dad drank a lot. Other times he did it just for the pure fun of it. He would wail on me like he had nothing to lose. I was just a rag doll to him. I would scream my lungs out for Todd to come and help me, but he would just stand there or go into another room to ignore what my dad was doing to me. When my mom would get home, my dad convinced Todd not to say anything. When I would try to say something, they would just make up reasons to explain my injuries. Then I started growing up..."
Carter's body started shaking and the tears were welling up in her eyes.
"He..." Carter turned her head away from Dean, not able to look at him during this part of her story, "The f-first time he...touched me...I was only eight years old. He had been drinking again so I had gone to bed early. But he crept into my room and woke me up. And he pinned me d-down...I screamed so hard and tried to get away...It became a regular occurrence, even without the alcohol..." the tears rolled freely down her cheeks as she relived the past.
She finally looked back at Dean.
"I never did anything. Not one thing, y'know? I mean I tried, I really did. I acted just how Todd did, I listened, I was obedient but he still did those things."
Carter wiped away her tears, to try and compose herself only partially succeeding.
"I went through two more years of that crap before I took matters into my own hands. I had read in my mom's books about crossroads demons and I learned how to summon one. I figured any amount of time I could get without living in fear would be worth it. The demon dealt me four years to kill my dad, just him. I thought that my mom was only being tricked and Todd was only obeying orders. I heard the hell hounds rip my dad to shreds, and I was so happy that he was finally gone," Carter shook her head, tears still swimming in her eyes.
"But I was so wrong about everything. I didn't live without fear. I was terrified of every man I met, even boys my own age. To me, they were like wild animals that would lash out at any moment. It didn't matter that I had hunted demons, werewolves, and vampires...men scared the living hell out of me. And Todd and my mom could care less. They both had just pretended nothing had happened. Todd was deluded for so long that he actually believed that my dad never abused me. And my mom thought that if she ignored it enough it would all just go away. After I realized this, I prayed for my four years to end. I wanted to die so bad that when the hell hounds finally came for me, I didn't feel any pain. I swung my front door wide open and let them take me," she finished choking back more tears and burying her face in her hands.
Dean, during this entire story was an intent listener. Before now, Dean had literally known nothing about the young girl in front of him but now it seemed like he knows everything. When he had heard Todd accusing his sister of killing their father, Dean thought he would've been disgusted and angry to hear her tell her side. He realized now just how terrified and forever scarred that girl will be for the rest of her life because of the day her father crossed the line.
"Carter..."
"Don't," she stopped him taking her hands away from her face, "Everybody is always sorry. Doesn't change what happened."
Carter drew her hair back into a ponytail, revealing all features of her face. For the first time, Dean really saw how exhausted her face looked. Her face was pale and her eyes had dark circles beneath them, making her seem almost as gaunt as he looked. There were bruises that were starting to fade but were still reminders of the fights with Todd and Alastair. And yet...there was just something about her that was so hauntingly stunning.
"Besides, you have nothing to be sorry for," she looked at him, seeing the pain in his face.
"How can you say that?" he whispered, tears now forming in his own eyes.
"You remember," he pointed out much to Carter's surprise.
"Just like you could tell when I found out, I can see in your eyes some kind of disgust. I know you remember," he repeated the tears now rolling down his battered cheeks, "After what I did to you...after how I felt d-doing it...Carter I can't even begin to tell you h-how sorry I am."
Carter sighed, tears still welled in her eyes, and sat on the edge of the bed next to Dean. He curiously watched her move.
"I know, Dean...it's ok."
She took his large hand and gently stroked it with her thumb. The moment she grasped his hand, Dean was instantly relaxed. He sighed in peace and let his head fall back onto his pillow. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Carter's soft hands on his own.
There was something about this girl that Dean couldn't shake. It wasn't a bad feeling, just something that had bothered Dean when he first met her back in New York. Whenever she was around, Dean felt responsible for her, in a way that he had never felt for Sam. The feeling of familiarity didn't stop from just torturing her in hell, it was something more. Dean just couldn't figure it out. Carter was so shrouded in mystery and it pissed him off that he couldn't figure her out. His thoughts soon led him into an uneasy dream about hell.
As the pain became too great, Dean could feel his body being regenerated. With screams echoing all around him he took great deep breaths of air and relaxed, if only for a moment. His head throbbed and the stinking smell of hell engulfed his nostrils. He was so tired. Alastair's scaly, brown hand pinched his cheeks and forced the worn hunter to look at him.
"Why, Dean, you look tired," he growled in his menacing voice. Alastair threw Dean's head back into the rack and turned his back on him.
"Same offer, Dean," he looked back at him with his evil black eyes.
Dean looked down not saying a word.
"I could always go back to your father. I'm sure he would just love to have me holding the razor above his head. Oh how I enjoyed listening to his screams," he taunted pointing far down the rack, where John Winchester was supposedly held.
Dean gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, fighting back tears.
"Better yet...I could go back to her," Alastair had hit a nerve. Dean finally lifted his head and glared menacingly back at the demon.
"She's a tough one to break, I've got to say," Alastair continued seeing his mind games were beginning to work, "Got a lot of feistiness in her...a lot of spunk. Not to worry, though, I always find a way to break 'em. Little miss cheek is no different...it'll just take a little more tweaking and prodding...and ripping," he hissed in Dean's ear.
"You son of a bitch! You stay away from her!" he yelled fighting against his restraints.
A nearby demon threw Dean back against the rack, silencing him once again. Alastair merely let out a low cackle that sent chills down Dean's spine. Dean knew that Alastair had him.
"It's my realm, Dean, I'll do what I please. Even that little brat of yours..."
"You touch her and I swear to God-"
"You disappoint me, Dean. I would've thought you would have given up on God a long time ago," he mocked once again, "Too bad, I was willing to make a bargain with you if you had said yes."
Alastair turned away from the hunter once again, a sinister smirk playing his lips as he could sense Dean truly debating the idea.
"I'll do it," Dean said after a few more minutes.
Alastair's smirk grew so wicked it would've scared God himself.
Dean could no longer hold back the tears. They came thundering down his cheeks and kept coming. He heard Alastair give the order to release him and he came crashing to the ground as his shackles were removed around his wrists. Alastair hauled him painfully to his feet.
"Let's get started, boy, I have just the perfect victim for you to start with," he joyously said, leading Dean a short ways down the rack past multiple shrieking souls. Alastair stopped and once Dean realized who he was to torture, he tried turning back.
"Ah, ah, ah. If you want to save little Augustine from my blade, you must first introduce her to yours," the demon spun him back around, slipping a razor into his hand.
At that moment, Dean had a strong urge to turn around and stab Alastair, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Dean stared at Carter's small form a while before solemnly stepping forward. She looked up and their eyes met.
"Dean..." she breathed.
Inside his head, he was absolutely screaming at himself to drop the blade and get back on the rack, but he kept walking forward.
"I'm sorry, Carter, but I have to," he whispered. He saw her drop her head and saw the tears fall to the ground.
"I know, Dean...it's ok," she softly spoke, bracing herself for another onslaught of pain.
Anger elated Dean's senses. Anger for himself for giving in, for Carter for making him feel guilty, for Alastair for forcing him to do this, for Sam for not saving him from hell, and for his father for all the years of hunting and disappearing and leaving when he needed him most. All that anger coursed through Dean and he found it scarily easy to dig the blade into Carter's stomach. Not long after that, he quickly discovered it was the perfect release for his anger, and he liked it. Carter's screams and pleas to stop soon fell on deaf ears. Dean Winchester had flipped and couldn't fix the seal he had just broken.
Dean's eyes snapped open and he barely heard himself whisper Carter's name. His eyes roved around the room searching for her, but she was long gone. He took in a labored deep breath, settling back into his bed. Everything on his body ached and he felt so heavy. Soon, Dean began to wonder if what he had dreamt was his actual memory or if it really was just a dream. Things ran together so much in hell, he didn't know what he imagined and what actually happened. If his dream really was a memory, he knew Carter well before he flipped.
"Are you all right?"
Dean looked in the chair to his left, which seconds before was empty but was currently occupied by Castiel. Looking at the angel for a moment, Dean held his tongue for what he really wanted to say.
"No thanks to you," he remarked, turning his head away.
Cas moved uneasily on his chair, "You need to be more careful."
"You need to learn how to manage your damn devil's trap," Dean derided, frustration mounting even in his extreme pain.
"That's not what I meant," the angel replied, "Uriel is dead."
A pit in Dean's stomach dropped, and he looked at Cas to see his reaction.
"Was it the demons?" Dean asked.
"Disobedience," Castiel turned to look at Dean, "He was working against us."
There was a small pause and Dean forgot about his dream about Carter and remembered what Alastair had told him.
"Is it true?" he eventually asked, part of him hoping it was just another lie.
"Did I break the first seal...Did I start all this?"
Castiel gazed back at him, wondering when he found out.
"Yes," he said.
Dean's body froze as he couldn't look away from Cas. He heard the word but he couldn't believe it. When it finally hit him, he looked away, emotion ready to boil over.
"When we discovered Lilith's plan for you...we laid siege to hell. And we fought our way to get to you before you—"
"Jump-started the apocalypse," Dean choked.
"And we were too late," he solemnly finished, the guilt creeping in.
A thousand new thoughts ran through Dean's head and for the first time in a long time, he wished he was back in hell, torturing souls.
"Why didn't you just leave me there then?" he choked, resentment mounting.
"It's not blame that falls on you, Dean...It's fate. 'The righteous man who begins it...is the only man who can finish it. And the one sacrificed holds the path to redemption,'...You have to stop it, and Carter can show you how," he revealed.
"Lucifer...the apocalypse," Dean was shaking and the corners of his eyes burned with tears, "...What does that mean?"
Castiel shook his head, looking towards the door.
"Hey! Don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch. What does that mean?" he croaked.
"I don't know," Castiel couldn't meet Dean's eye.
"Bull!" he fumed.
"I don't," he turned, "Dean, they don't tell me much. I know that our fate rests with you."
"Well then you guys are screwed," he whispered, "I can't do it, Cas...it's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not str...I'm not strong enough."
Dean fought the tears as hard as he could but he couldn't stop thinking about how big of a screw-up and how big of a disappointment he was to everybody. The angel's, Cas, Sam, Carter.
"Well I guess I'm not the man either of our father's wanted me to be," he noted, few tears trickling down his face, "Find someone else...it's not me."
Dean turned his teary face away from Castiel as the angel stood. Dean couldn't handle letting the angel see him cry.
Castiel was only a few steps outside Dean's room when he looked to his right to see Carter slumped against the wall with a frightened hand covering her mouth and tears pooled in her eyes. She had heard every word and could not believe it. Cas could barely tolerate Dean, but seeing Carter sitting there...he vanished before she could say anything. Slightly shaking herself, Carter clambered to her feet with the support of the wall.
She had left Dean yesterday when Sam returned. She was trading places with Sam again today when Castiel appeared and told them that Uriel was the cause of the angel murders. He also revealed that Uriel released Alastair in hopes that he would kill Dean. Uriel also told Todd of her past so that Todd may kill her as well. Upon hearing this news, Carter hurried to Dean's room to check on him. Before she reached the door, however, she heard Cas' voice inside the room. As she listened more and more, she sank to the ground disbelieving every word.
Carter gazed up into the light and quickly wiped her face with her sleeve. She moved into the doorway and slid to the wall where she stayed, not sure if Dean wanted her in there or not. It took everything in Carter not to cry again when she saw the tears in his eyes.
"I just..." she couldn't find the right words to say.
Dean finally noticed her and his dream flooded back into his memory. He pushed it aside when he realized she had heard Cas and what he was talking about. He turned his head away, feeling himself beginning to cry again. He wanted her to go, but a part of him desperately wanted someone there. Dean heard her move closer.
Risking a harsh insult and her comfort, Carter sat next to Dean on the bed and swung her legs up. She turned her upper body toward him, as he looked at her. He wasn't holding the tears back now and he closed his eyes as he felt Carter's slender fingers wipe away the ones lingering on his face. He couldn't hate her, not now.
"Angels really are dicks," she quietly spoke, a single tear falling down her cheek.
Had Dean not been so miserable, he would've chuckled. Instead, he placed his arms around her as she lay down beside him and set her head on his chest. They were in similar positions dictated by fate as the angels would say. And both couldn't help but think, screw fate.
