I know it's been a while since I updated this part, so I started with a little of where I ended. Not much else to say about this, except keep reading! And don't worry, the regular story picks up tomorrow. Love you all. Bobby and the Winchesters do not belong to me ('cept Lily).
Peace!
CA
Previously:
…before she could react, there was a loud sound as the door flew off his hinges and the window shattered. Lily dropped roughly to the floor, and, still gasping, darted to the first hiding place she could find. At the same time, John Winchester's body bolted from the room, leaping through the now-broken window.
Sam, Dean, and Bobby stood on the threshold. Bobby took hold of Dean's shoulders. "I'll go after your dad, boys. He won't get far. You boys go find Lily." He paused. They'd heard everything that had happened in the small room. "Boys…be gentle."
The room was in tatters; there was blood on one wall. Dean felt his heart climb into his throat. What exactly had that thing done to his baby sister? At seventeen years old, Dean was no longer a stranger to the supernatural. Thirteen-year-old Sam, who'd been on his first hunt only six months ago, was a little newer to the gig. He'd found out about what his father did at eight, but he'd learned from his brother in a casual conversation. A frightening conversation, to say the least, but there was no violence involved. He couldn't imagine how Lily would be feeling now.
"Lily?" he called gently. "Lily, where are you? He's gone, Lil. Don't worry. It's just Dean and me."
There was no answer, and Sam began to panic. "Dean. What if he hurt her? Her blood's on the wall…you heard her breathing. For all we know, she could be unconscious already—"
"Stop, Sammy," Dean said, turning his brother to face him. "Don't do this. Don't panic now. Lily needs our help. We'll find her, okay? And she'll be alright." Sam didn't answer, and he didn't lose the panicked look. Dean placed a hand on each shoulder. "Sammy?" he said firmly.
Sam hesitated, started to nod, then froze. "Wait," he whispered. "Listen."
They both stood there for what felt like an eternity, listening. Finally, Dean picked up on a small sound: it was somewhere between a pant and a gasp. He looked at Sammy, and they both rushed toward the sound.
They found her squeezed between the folding cot in the bathroom and the wall. She was curled in a ball and wouldn't look up, but they could tell by the quick movements of her shoulders, she was mid-panic attack.
"Lily?" Sam tried gently. "Lily, it's just us. It's Sammy and Dean, see?" He got to his knees and inched forward, slowly laying a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and yelped, and her breathing hastened. Though she sat with her legs pulled up to her chest, and her forehead resting on her knees, they could see a ridge of blood at her hairline. It was staining her sleeve and right forearm.
"Dean?" Sam sounded nervous.
"Let me try," Dean said, without taking his eyes off his sister. "Sammy, can you go get Ruff?"
"Where—?"
"On the couch under her blanket. Hurry, Sam."
Sam was gone in an instant, leaving Dean with Lily, and her harried breathing.
"Hey, Lil," he said gently, inching closer to her. She heard him and shuffled backwards without looking up. "C'mon, Lil…"
"Why's she doing that?" Sam whispered quietly. He'd returned to kneel beside his older brother, holding out a worn pink-and-green puppy.
"She's scared of us," Dean said, accepting the toy. "After what she saw with Dad…can you blame her?"
"What do we do?"
"Convince her we are who we say we are." He held out Ruff to Lily. "Lily, look who Sammy brought to play. It's Ruff! I think Ruff wants to play the color game."
The 'color game' had been invented years ago, when Lily first started falling victim to panic attacks. She'd take turns with 'Ruff' (or whoever was controlling him) and name as many colors as she could think of, taking a deep breath after each one, until she'd calmed enough to breathe by herself. Lily had grown, but her panic attacks had stayed the same, so the game never became 'age appropriate'.
"Come on, Lil. Ruff wants to play. Don't make him sad. Lily?"
Now Dean was becoming anxious. She'd go limp soon, if they didn't get her calmed down. She'd fall asleep with the images of her father attacking her in her head. And if that happened…
Improvising, Dean shifted the cot to sit right next to her. She stiffened, but she no longer had the energy to shy away.
"Now, Lily, you have to listen to me. You have to calm down, okay? The thing that was in Dad is gone, and he's okay. He'll be here in a minute. Right now, Sammy and I are here, okay? Just Sammy and me. You're safe. You know we won't let anything hurt you, right?"
Lily didn't answer, and Dean pressed the point. "Right, Lily?"
She didn't lift her head, but Dean detected the almost imperceptible nod.
"Good girl," he soothed gently. "Now, I want you to do something for me, okay, Lil?"
Sam, watching anxiously, frowned. "Dean!" he hissed quietly. He knew Lily wouldn't ignore a request from either of them; he also knew she wasn't in shape to do much of anything.
Dean ignored him. "C'mon, Lil, can you be my strong baby sister and help me out here? Please?"
Another tiny jerk of the head. "Good girl, Lil. Then I want you to breathe with me, okay? Breathe like I breathe. Deep breaths, nice and slow." She wasn't listening. Her fists were going slack. Dean looped an arm around her shaking shoulders. This time, she didn't even flinch.
"Listen, Lily." He took a deep breath, letting his chest swell against her back and shoulders. "Feel that? See how I'm breathing? Deep, slow breaths. C'mon, you can do it. Sam'll do it, too, right Sammy? All at once. Ready? In…out…in…out…"
For a minute, Dean thought they'd just have to take her to the hospital…but then she responded. He watched her shoulders cease to heave as her back fell and rose in time with his.
After a few minutes, the tension eased from her body. She unfolded herself and turned into Dean, hands fisted in his shirt.
"Dean, I…I…" she started. Daddy always said not to cry. Crying didn't help anything. But she couldn't help it. Not now.
Dean pulled her into his lap. "You can cry, Lil. It's okay."
Lily didn't wait another second.
When Dean and Sam emerged to the main room ten minutes later, Lily was sleeping fitfully in Dean's arms, her own arms looped around his neck, exhausted by her ordeal. Both boys looked grim as they approached Bobby and John. The men were sitting at the table, Bobby bandaging the hand Jon had cut when he'd gone through the window.
John half stood when Dean carried her in. The first thing he saw was the dried blood at her hairline.
"Jesus," he muttered. "Is she…"
"She'll be okay. She's terrified. She's…she's got a lot to think about. But physically, she'll be okay." Dean hadn't meant for his words to be cold. He knew it wasn't his father's fault, but he couldn't help feeling bitter. "Did you kill it?"
"Got away," grumbled Bobby. "Damn thing was ready. Musta been planning this for a week."
"Planning to tell her about his own existence? Why would he?" Dean said, sitting on the couch with Lily in his arms.
"No," John said, going to stand awkwardly next to Dean. "No, it was something else. Some dreams it thought she was having."
"Dreams?" Bobby looked up from the bloody gauze he was packing away.
"Dreams, feelings, I dunno." John shrugged. "Didn't get much more than that. She didn't know what it was talking about, either. So, it just made her promise to remember…if she did have any weird dreams..." He trailed off, looking down at his sleeping daughter, her face contorted in fear and pain. "Dean…can I…"
Dean looked at his father, face blank, for several seconds, then closed his eyes, shook his head. "Yeah…yeah, of course, Dad." He stood and handed Lily to their father, turning to look at Sam, who looked a little pale himself. "Sammy? You alright?"
Sam blinked and looked at Dean as if surprised to see him there. "Dean…" he said quietly. "It's not fair. Why did it—?"
Suddenly, Lily began screaming again, kicking and thrashing in her father's arms. She was half awake, and shrieking Dean's name.
"Dean! Dean, please! Please help! It got me, Dean! Don't let him hurt me! Please…Dean…Sammy…please!"
They could all hear her breathing hasten again, and both Sam and Dean stepped toward John. Dean took Lily from him; John didn't put up a fight, looking equal parts stunned and hurt.
As soon as Lily was back in Dean's arms, she was quieting, sobbing again, but no longer screaming or kicking. They all looked at her, then back to John, who was still wearing the same shocked expression.
Dean spoke first. "Dad, I—"
"It's fine. I…I'll go get her something for her head. I'll be back." He left without another word.
It was silent for a full minute as Dean tried to soothe his sister back to sleep.
"C'mon over here, kid," Bobby said finally. "Can you hang onto her while I clean her head?"
Dean nodded numbly and sat at the table with Bobby. Already, he was predicting sitting up with her that night. She wouldn't be okay until he and Sammy explained everything, until she knew her father wasn't trying to kill her, and none of that could happen until morning.
Sam wandered over eventually, still clinging to Ruff. He sat at Dean's feet, and leaned his head against Lily's leg, feeling on the verge of tears—frustrated, angry, frightened tears—himself.
"It's not fair," he said again, more to himself than anyone else. "It shouldn't have done that to her. Not like that. Now not."
Dean used his free hand to reach down and tousle Sam's hair. "She'll be okay, Sammy," he repeated hollowly. "She'll be okay."
Sam didn't respond. 'Doesn't make it fair,' he thought, wishing fiercely he could protect his sister from everything, if only for that single moment.
