Author's Note: This is probably not what you were expecting from this chapter. I hope you like it nonetheless.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was almost four in the afternoon when Liz walked out of the bathroom after having taken a shower and was surprised by Dean shoving her against the wall. Dean thought it was a more than fair compromise as far as time was concerned. Liz squeaked as he pinned her wrists to the wall behind her but did not fight against him. Her robe fell partially open, but Dean ignored the newly revealed skin to focus on her face. There was a hint of anger there, but other than that, she seemed to be waiting expectantly for him to make the next move. When he stayed frozen, she started to speak. "Wh—" she began.
The sound of her voice seemed to wake Dean out of his daze. "For the record," he ground out, cutting off what she was about to say, "I hate everything about this. I hate your dad. I hate that demon. I hate your stupid cult. I hate this marriage. I hate this stupid spell that won't let me stop thinking about you. I hate the way you sing all the freaking time. I hate the way you bite your lip when you're nervous or worried. I hate that you smell so good all the time—what the hell is that smell?" he interjected, breathing deeply. He picked up seamlessly where he had left off. "I hate that you know more about what's going on than me. I hate that Sam likes you. I hate that I am forced to put up with you. And I hate that you—"
"I get it," Liz interrupted irritably. "You hate me and everything about me. Can we get on with this?"
Dean growled in frustration. "That's just it, I don't hate you. I really, really wish I did." He looked at her lips, then back at her eyes. "When you told me that you were going to have to have sex with Sam, I felt…" His lip curled in distaste as he searched for the right word. "…sick."
Liz's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I don't hate you. That's all."
"Yeah, but—"
Dean was tired of talking, so he kissed Liz to shut her up. She put up a token fight and then kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck when he turned them loose. His hands went to her butt and squeezed while hers tangled in his hair. They continued making out until breathing became an issue. They were both gasping for breath when Dean finally pulled back.
"Dean," Liz began. She barely got the word out before he was kissing her again. "Dean," she tried again when he moved from her lips to her jaw. He silenced her with another kiss and reached for the sash on her robe.
She shoved him away as hard as she could. "Dean, stop!" she demanded and hurriedly retied her robe.
Dean stepped away from her with another frustrated growl. "You're gonna have to work with me on this, Liz. If we're gonna have sex, you're gonna have to let me touch you."
"You done?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.
He nodded. "Yeah."
"We are in the middle of the hall," she reminded him.
Dean glanced around him, a look of sheepishness dawning on his face. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh," she said.
Dean looked up and down the hall then dragged Liz toward his room. She did not resist as he pulled her into his room and locked the door behind them. He walked across the room and plopped down on the bed. "What's wrong now?" he asked impatiently when he noticed that Liz had not followed him.
Liz hesitated for moment, then walked to the bed and sat down rigidly beside Dean. When she glanced over at him, her eyes were wide with nervousness and a little bit of fear. "Nothing's wrong," she insisted unconvincingly. "I'm just trying to get my head around the idea that this is really happening."
Dean's impatience melted away. "I forget that this is your first time."
Liz ducked her head in embarrassment. "There is that."
"There's nothing to worry about," he assured her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I swear it'll be great. I'm just sorry that this isn't on your terms. I know you didn't want your first time to be about your dad."
Liz jerked her head around so that she was looking at Dean. "It isn't," she insisted.
"Isn't it?" Dean replied. "We wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for him."
"This isn't about my dad. It's about Sam." She held up a hand. "Wait. That came out wrong. This is about Sam and you and what we all sacrifice to keep evil at bay. I'm okay with this, Dean. Really. I'm actually pretty honored to have you as my first."
Dean didn't know what to say, so he cupped Liz's face in his hands and kissed her. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotion and sensation that his touch caused and kept them closed as she told him, "I'm afraid you won't like what you see."
Dean waited until she opened her eyes. "Liz," he said as he appraised her with a slow smile, "I can assure you I like what I see."
Liz rolled her eyes good-naturedly, smiling for the first time since he surprised her outside of the bathroom. "Not that. This," she said, tapping her temple with her fingers. "I'm afraid you won't like what you see in my head."
"There are things I'm not too proud of, too," Dean assured her.
She smirked at him. "Do you really still think you have secrets from me?" she teased.
He shrugged. "You'd be surprised."
"I might be," she mused, leaning slightly towards Dean as she did so.
"What's going to happen after this?" he asked. He moved forward ever-so-slightly as well.
She barked out a laugh and moved away again. "I thought you were supposed to be a big stud. Shouldn't you know the answer to that?" she teased.
Dean smiled despite himself. "Don't be difficult. What happens with Sam after…?" He trailed off and waited for Liz to answer.
"If I researched right, then he should be Sam again. No strings, no residual demon." She smiled at the thought before leaning forward and kissing him. It was a light kiss, and she pulled back almost immediately. "I need to be straight with you about something."
Dean groaned. "No more confessions," he requested. "I'm tired of them."
She turned her head away when he tried to kiss her. "I need for you to understand this, okay?" She waited until he nodded before she continued. "If you do this…no, if we do this, everything changes. I am in your head now, but this will be different. No one has ever known you this well. No one will ever know you this well. All those hazy memories and thoughts of mine that you just almost see will become crystal clear. It'll be the same for me. I'll know you almost better than you know yourself. In some ways, I will know you better than you know yourself. Think about if that's what you want before you do this. We won't be able to make it go away."
Dean snorted. "Is that supposed to scare me? I was willing to sell my soul to save Sam. What makes you think I wouldn't be willing to do this?"
Liz looked relieved. "Nothing. I just wanted you to know beforehand what was going to happen so that you would be going into this with your eyes open. I am tired of keeping you in the dark."
"That's sweet. Really," Dean said dryly. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. "Let's just do this and get it over with."
"Wow. You are such a romantic."
"You know what I mean."
"I do," she agreed. They met in a kiss, and Liz let him lean her back onto the bed. They broke apart to scoot farther up onto the pillows. Liz considered him gravely. "In case I don't make it, I just want you to know—"
"Let's wait to do the deathbed confession portion of our night," Dean cut her off tiredly and tugged at the sash on her robe.
The color drained from Liz's face. "If that's what you want," she said, watching as he pulled her robe open.
"It is," he replied. He slid the robe from her shoulders and waited for her to sit off so he could remove it completely from her. She shimmied out of the robe and tossed it to the side of the room, forcing herself not to cover herself with her hands.
Liz averted her eyes while Dean kicked out of his jeans then stopped him when he leaned in to kiss her again. "Could you do something for me?" she asked, vulnerability shining out of her eyes.
"Maybe. Depends on what you want."
Color flooded back into her face as pink stained her cheeks. "Could you just once kiss me where it doesn't feel like you're trying to devour me?"
A slow smirk spread across Dean's face. "Most women like being devoured by me," he told her.
Dean knew that he had said the wrong thing when Liz's face became bright red. "Right. Well, why don't we just—"
Dean leaned down and gave her a soft kiss to make up for it. The kiss quickly became more heated. When they broke apart, he leaned down near her ear and told her apologetically, "This might hurt."
"No, it won't," she disagreed.
He kissed her again to distract her as he entered her. He stilled his movements to let her adjust to him and noticed that his vision was becoming hazy. He pulled back abruptly, struggling to clear his vision. When he had managed to almost clear the mist in his head, he became aware of Liz's fingernails digging into his shoulder and her ragged breathing. She had locked her legs around him to keep him from moving. They were fighting against one another, Dean trying to jerk away from Liz while she kept him in place.
When Liz realized that Dean was aware of what was going on, she breathed out a sigh of relief. "You're hurting me," she told him. "Stop fighting it. It's okay. It's not going to hurt you. Just give in to the vision, Dean. This is supposed to happen."
Dean ignored her and kept struggling to stay lucid, so Liz reached behind him and fumbled with his choker. She slung it aside when it came unclasped then grabbed his face and kissed him hard. With the choker gone, he had no hope of keeping what little self-control he had regained. The fog enveloped his mind as he kissed Liz with abandon, but by then, he was too far gone to care. Everything started to slip. He felt that if he thought about it, he could remember who he was. If he thought about it, he could remember where he was. The problem was that he could not think. He was with someone else. He was…
He was five years old. He did not know how he knew that, but he did. And he was also a girl. Liz. It all came back to him. All his memories suddenly were accessible again. Liz turned as her mother came to talk to her, and Dean turned with her. He had no choice. He watched as Rose knelt until she was eye-level with Liz.
"Liz, it's time to come in from playing. Mommy has some things she needs to teach you."
"Can't I play just a little bit longer?" Dean was speaking, but the voice was not his own. "Ginger is starting a game of red rover."
"No, dear, you must come inside now. Please, do not argue with me."
Despite the unhappiness welling inside of her tiny body, Liz followed her mother inside. Her unhappiness only increased when she walked into the living room to find her father waiting on them. He had that look in his eyes that made her tummy feel unsettled. It was a look Dean recognized as fanaticism.
"Liz," Frank began, eyes filled with pride, "Today is a very special day. Today is the last day that you will have to pretend to share anything in common with the other children your age. Today you learn that you are going to be the savior of our community. Today your training begins. Today is the day you begin to realize your destiny. I don't expect you to understand what that means right now, but let me just say that you are important."
Her mother took over for him. "What your father means, dear, is that you are going to have a specialized training program that was designed specifically for you. You will work with me everyday to learn various skills. When you are old enough, you will join the boys' program for training with weapons and fighting. Do you understand what we are telling you, Liz?"
She nodded unhappily. "I'm not going to be playing red rover anytime soon."
Rose laughed before she could stop herself. "Oh, Liz, of course you will be allowed to play red rover with your friends. You just will not be going to the same classes that they have. You will be learning how to be a good wife to your future husband."
"Wife?" Liz asked in bewilderment.
Her father had that look in his eyes again. "Yes. You are to marry one of the greatest men that the world has ever seen. He will lead us into a golden age. Your marriage will set into motion events that have been foretold for centuries. Until the end of time, your name will be on the lips of every person who enters this world. You will yield untold power and riches, and you will want for nothing. You must be prepared, though. Go with your mother now. She will begin your education today."
Liz's misery was acute. "Why can't I just play with my friends?"
"Because your friends are less than you." There was an edge to Frank's voice that told Liz not to push him.
She could feel the tears welling and knew that the worst thing she could possibly do would be to let those tears fall. She took a deep breath to stall them, and when she finally felt in control of herself again, she looked at her mother. "What do you want me to learn first?"
Dean watched with interest as Liz's mother smiled brightly and pulled something off of one of the high shelves. It was a photograph, he realized. Rose handed it to Liz. "This is Sam. He is your destiny."
A five-year-old Sam smiled up at Dean from the photo. Dean had no idea who could have taken the picture, but he knew exactly where it had been taken. They had been holed up in Wyoming in one of the numerous sleazy motels that their dad kept them at when a rare day of good weather in February hit. Dean had taken Sam to the park to play. That had to have been when the picture was taken. Dean wanted to look at it longer and memorize every detail because it had been so long since he had seen Sam look that happy. But Liz was handing the picture back to Rose, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Rose smiled proudly at Liz and reached out to cup her face. Her hand turned into a smaller fist in the process of reaching Liz's face, and the fist punched Liz instead of embracing her. She tumbled to the ground, resting only a second before struggling back onto her feet.
She glared at a younger but still recognizable Jason and ran at him. He was bigger than her, though, and easily knocked her back down. This time she stayed down. It took her a few minutes to orient herself again, and when she did, Dean realized they were in the training facility in Oklahoma. Liz was quite a bit older. Fourteen, to be exact. There were about ten other boys in the training room, and Frank was at the side of the mat looking like he was going to blow a gasket.
"Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have to claim you as my child when you do things like that?" he yelled at her.
Liz had heard it all before, though, so Frank's anger caused no reaction in her. She endured the insults and thought about how annoyed she was that the boys around her would have something else to tease her about. Once again she wondered what life was like for Sam. He had a brother who loved him and a dad who did everything he could to protect him. She selfishly wished that she could trade places with Sam, even if only for a day.
Her thoughts surprised Dean, though he was not sure why. It was obvious that Liz's childhood had not been easy.
"Are you even listening to me?" her father raved.
She had not been, but she replied automatically, "Yes, sir."
Frank stepped closer to her, clearly unconvinced that he had her full attention. "You will fight each and every one of these boys until you beat one of them. We will start with Jeremy."
He had her attention now. Liz's blasé attitude disappeared as she looked at Jeremy and felt fear work its way into her chest. She had never had to fight Jeremy before. He was three years older and six inches taller than she. But she knew her dad wanted her to argue, so she stepped to the mat instead. Jeremy followed with trepidation. He looked at Frank to gauge how serious he was and soon received his answer.
"Jeremy, if you lose, you will be required to do kitchen duty for the next two months and give me twenty laps around the commune daily," her father told him. He faced the rest of the boys. "That goes for all of you, too."
Frank moved onto the mat and grabbed Liz by the chin. "If you do not win, I will double that punishment for each boy you lose to."
Liz nodded and felt the cold weight of defeat settle in. She bowed to Jeremy and they began. She avoided his first few attacks and even got in a few punches of her own. Unfortunately, his skill and power far outweighed her own, and when he punched her in the face, she went down like a sack of potatoes. He had not quite hit her hard enough to knock her out, but she could feel her face swelling around the nose he had clearly broken. Her father jerked it back into place and stood her up.
"You are not even trying!" he yelled angrily.
Liz fought down the nausea and pain, stumbling up to face her next opponent. She lost eight more times in quick succession. Thankfully, they all avoided her face. Jason was next to last, and when he stepped onto the mat, she was running only on adrenaline. He knocked her down and pinned her to the ground. The boys around them cheered him on loudly, and he used the distraction to lean down to her ear.
"Kick me between the legs," he told her quietly. "But be gentle if you would."
She continued to fight against him and then did as he directed. He rolled off of her, howling in pain. She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled over to him. She kicked him in the gut for good measure and turned to her father. He was livid.
"That is completely unacceptable. You are not allowed to hit below the belt. Jason, you will join Liz for all of her punishment for allowing yourself to become that vulnerable. Liz, you still have another person to try to defeat. Get to it."
Liz stared at her father, and in that instance, she hated him. Dean sympathized: he hated Frank, too.
Instead of arguing, though, Liz turned to face the next fighter. As she turned, she realized that there was someone coming down the hall. She ducked into the first room she could find and squeezed against the wall. Dean searched Liz's head and realized that it was about a week after the previous scene. Every muscle in her body hurt and her face was still swollen.
Voices echoed down the hall, growing louder by the second. Dean knew instinctively that the voices coming toward Liz were Ginger and a group of girls her age. Ginger was clearly the leader of the group as she commanded most of the conversation.
"I guess that Liz the Mighty is too good to have dinner with us now," she said snottily.
"I heard that she is deathly ill and might die," one girl weighed in.
"Well, I heard that she got into a fight and was almost killed by one of the boys. Her father was so angry that he actually did kill Jason. That's why he hasn't been at dinner," another girl offered snidely.
"Maybe they ran away together," the first girl postulated with a laugh.
"Oh, please, like Liz would run away. She adores her father and every word he says. She is just counting the days until she can marry Sam and be ruler of us all," Ginger informed them. "Personally, I don't see what is so special about Ms. Snobby Pants. I guess that's just me, though."
The voices got louder as the group passed.
"I know," the second girl agreed. "She walks around like she is queen of the universe."
"Exactly," Ginger replied. "Well, I hate to tell her, but she isn't queen bee yet."
The conversation faded as the girls went into one of the rooms. Liz remained leaning against the wall, leaking tears out of the corner of her eyes as she squeezed them shut.
When she opened them, she was in a car with Jason. She threw her head back and laughed at something he had said.
"Slow down," she said lightly, laughing gaily.
Jason humored her, slowing to a few miles under the speed limit. He turned abruptly onto one of the roads that led to the lake, continuing on to one of the swim areas. He parked and got out of the car, heading to the trunk and pulling out an ice chest.
Liz headed to one of the picnic tables, sitting back and looking at the stars when she got there. Jason wandered over with the ice chest and a couple of glasses and sat down beside Liz.
He pulled a bottle of champagne out of the chest and filled the glasses. "Happy eighteenth, Liz," he said, clanging his glass against hers.
She smiled but did not respond. She sipped at her drink and continued to contemplate the stars.
Jason watched her for a few minutes, shifting impatiently. "Sorry about your dress," he said finally, hoping to draw her attention away from the night sky.
It worked. Liz's stomach clenched as she sat up and looked at him. She shrugged it off, though. "Well, you know, that's just Ginger. What can you do?"
"Ginger's never had to work a day in her life. She doesn't understand what that dress meant to you."
Liz shrugged noncommittally, not trusting herself to respond. Jason drove a brand-new Mustang convertible that his parents had bought for him because he "got tired" of his previous car.
Jason sensed that he was not going to win her support. "Your dad was in rare form tonight," he tried.
"Yeah," she agreed unenthusiastically.
Suddenly, Jason became excited. "Why don't we just leave, Liz? We could do it. I could sell my car and make enough money for us to get started somewhere else. Then you would be free to live your life on your terms."
Liz was horrified. "That's crazy!"
"It's no crazier than you tricking some guy you've never met into marrying you," Jason argued.
She felt like hitting him for even suggesting it. "I'm not going to run away with you, Jason." There was an edge to her voice that she had learned from her father.
"I don't get you, Liz," Jason replied angrily. "You hate your dad. Why are you listening to him? We could leave. Run away. You would never have to deal with him yelling at you and telling you how stupid you've been. Why wouldn't you want to do that?"
"Can we talk about something else?" Liz asked miserably.
"No. Explain to me exactly why you won't run away with me."
Liz sighed. She decided to spare his feelings. "Because my dad would kill you when he found us. And he would find us."
Jason sighed unhappily but rallied himself. "How about we talk less?" he said suggestively. He closed the distance between them and pulled Liz to him. He brushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen into her face. "You are so beautiful, Liz." He kissed her while she remained frozen.
Everything in Dean revolted when Jason kissed Liz. He did not know which was worse: being beaten to a bloody pulp or this. Liz seemed to feel the same way.
"I don't think my dad would approve of this," she said, pushing him back gently.
Jason clenched his jaw angrily. "Why don't you stand up to him? You hate your father. You hate him. But, no, you learn about Sam as if he really was the second coming."
"I think it is time for us to leave," she said severely.
"I don't want to leave," he replied just as fiercely.
"Fine, but I don't want to talk about Sam anymore."
"Fine," Jason answered sullenly. "What are you going to do when your punishment is over?"
"That is assuming that it actually ever ends," Liz said cynically.
"Your dad will let you quit when it's over. He's a bastard and I hate him for what he does to you, but he sticks to his word."
Liz shrugged. "If the punishment ends, then I'll be glad. If it doesn't, then it won't kill me to keep peeling potatoes and running laps. It could be worse."
"It could be worse? How very Zen of you, Liz. Most parents ground their children for a month at most. Your dad gave you a four-year sentence for not being able to beat up boys bigger than you."
"He could have made me fight all of you boys for four years. That would have been worse."
"True."
They were both tired of the topic. Jason looked Liz up and down and changed it. "So, I am not allowed to kiss you or talk about Sam or how much I love you. What am I allowed to talk about?"
Liz sighed unhappily. "What an ass you are."
"Anything else?"
"Jason," Liz said in exasperation, "I just don't know what there is to talk about. I am promised to Sam. You are promised to Ginger. Running away is not going to solve anything. You know what happened to Sam's mother. They would find us and at the very least kill you. After our punishment is over, I don't think we should see each other for a while. Maybe you should try to see Ginger some."
"Is that really what you want, Liz? To live your life exactly as your father wants? To never question anything he says?"
"That's really what I want."
Jason clenched his jaw at her response. "I guess I'll stop at Ginger's house before I head home, then," he told her.
"That's probably a good idea," she responded emotionlessly.
Jason growled in frustration and tossed Liz a small package that he had hidden behind the ice chest. "It's a CD of 'Yesterday,'" he informed her. "I know how much you like that song, so I made a CD of all of the covers that I could find. I made it thinking that every time I heard that song, I would think about this night and how wonderful it was. Now when I hear it, I will think of how you chose to live in fear. How you chose Sam and your perfectly prepackaged life. I hope it's everything you wished for." He headed to the car without looking back.
"I'll let you know, drama queen," Liz muttered under her breath. She got up and trudged after him.
And then she was in a classroom. There was no seamless segue this time, just the sudden transportation into a classroom. It was extremely disorienting for Dean; therefore, it took him a minute to realize that less than a day had passed on the timeline of Liz's life. She was surrounded by people her own age. Ginger was staring daggers at her from a seat at the right side of the classroom, and Jason was sitting beside Ginger with an arm draped casually around her shoulders. He was pointedly ignoring Liz. Rose was at the front of the classroom trying to get the class to settle down.
"Class, please. It is Liz's big test today, so if I could get you all to be quiet, we can get started." She looked up and caught Liz's attention. "Liz, if you will come sit in front of the class, we will begin," she informed her. She smiled encouragingly as Liz made her way to the front of the room. Liz sat looking out at her peers in the chair that had been provided for her.
"Okay, Liz," her mother explained, "Everyone in this classroom has been given a list of questions that they are allowed to ask you. Each person can ask up to five questions. If you miss one, you fail. You may object if you think that the question is unfair, and I will consider your argument. Any questions?"
"No," Liz said in a bored voice.
"Good," Rose said, turning to the class. "You may ask your questions now. Ashley begin."
"What are Sam's parents' names?"
"John and Mary."
"What school will he be attending in the fall?"
"Stanford."
"Does he have any siblings?"
"One. A brother."
"What's his name?"
"Dean."
The questions continued in this manner for some time, becoming increasingly more difficult as they went along. Liz answered them all correctly and without hesitation. Dean listened to the breadth of her knowledge about Sam and their family with a mixture of awe and disturbance.
When it came time for Ginger to ask the questions, the entire room took a collective breath and held it. Liz had spent most of the time absentmindedly completing a crossword puzzle, so she was unaware of whose turn had come up.
"Have you ever had a sex dream about Sam?" Ginger asked. That definitely got Liz's attention. She stopped in the middle of writing the answer to 15 across and gawked at Ginger. Ginger smiled malevolently back at Liz and raised an eyebrow expectantly.
Some of the class snickered, but Rose was not amused. "That question in inappropriate, Ginger. Ask from the list of sanctioned questions, or let the next person go."
Liz answered before Ginger could move on. "Not that I'm aware of."
Rose turned to Liz in surprise. Ginger smiled in triumph. "Have you had one about Dean?"
"Don't answer that, Liz," Rose commanded. "Ginger, leave this classroom. Now." Rose was straining to control her anger.
"I didn't object, Mom, so I don't think that you can make her leave."
"I am administering this test, so I can make her leave if I wish. Ginger, leave now."
"No, I have not," Liz answered over her mother. "Have you?"
"I'll be asking the questions here," Ginger replied snottily. She stared challengingly at Liz. "Have you ever thought about what it will be like to screw Sam?"
"Not really. I might now that you bring it up."
"Do you think that Dean is better looking than Sam?"
"I never really thought about it. I mean they are good looking for different reasons."
"That is such a lame answer, Liz. Grow a pair and answer the question."
"Sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"Well, sometimes, I think that Dean is the better looking of the two. At other times, I think Sam is."
"Oh, come on, Liz," Ginger said in exasperation. "Sometimes you think Dean is hotter? Try all the time."
"I guess. That doesn't mean I prefer him to Sam. Sam is kind and decent and any other number of good things. I am grateful that I was chosen for such a good man. There are so many people who are not as lucky."
Ginger's smile fell during Liz's answer. She stared unhappily at her, temporarily at a loss for words.
Liz's answer delighted Rose, however, and her anger melted. She turned to Ginger. "You may ask one more question, Ginger."
"Would you choose Jason if you could?"
The room grew uncomfortably quiet. Liz stared at Ginger for several moments before glancing at Jason. She looked away almost immediately and turned to her mother. "I object to the question," she said quietly.
Her mother looked at her dispassionately. "Objection overruled. Answer the question, Liz."
Liz looked around the room at the people shifting in discomfort. "No," she said. She purposely avoided looking at Jason and tried to keep her hands from shaking. "Next question, please."
Jason spoke before anyone else could. "Why not?" he asked angrily.
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do. You want to be everything that your dad tells you that you are. You want to be the wife of the famous and beloved Sam Winchester."
"So what if I do, Jason? Does that make me a bad person?"
"No, it makes you ordinary. I thought you were better than that."
Deep inside, Liz felt something she had not felt in a long time: the desire to cry. She suppressed the urge. "Maybe I don't want to be better than that."
"Of course you do," he answered savagely.
Liz shrugged. "Whatever you say, Jason." She could not quite keep the mocking tone from her voice.
"I want to hear you say that you wouldn't choose me because I am not Sam."
Liz fixed a deadly glare on him. "I don't know how many times I have to say this, Jason, but I wouldn't choose you because I don't love you. I'm sorry. I know that isn't what you want to hear, but it is the truth. I don't know what else to say." She held it together, but she felt like she was dying inside. Her heart ached.
"You don't love me?"
"I'm not in love with you."
"Do you think that saying that will make me fall desperately in love with Ginger?"
Liz shook her head sadly. "I'm not sure anything could make you fall desperately in love with Ginger."
Her mother cleared her throat. "That is enough," she interrupted firmly. "Jason, ask the questions on the sheet or don't ask anything."
Liz could feel Jason's eyes on her as he stomped out of the room. She flinched as the door slammed, hazarding a glance at Ginger. Ginger was staring at Liz with murder in her eyes.
The scene gradually faded then jarringly jolted into another one. Liz was frantically pounding on a door in the middle of the night. Years had passed since the last scene, and they were no longer in Oklahoma. They were in…Arizona, Dean realized.
"Jason, let me in," Liz pleaded as continued pounding on the door. "Please, Jason. Please, let me in."
Jason opened the door, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. "Liz?" he asked confusedly. "What are you doing here?" He looked behind her to make sure that no one was with her. "I thought you were off somewhere getting ed-u-ma-cated." He said the last in an exaggeratedly hick-sounding voice.
Liz ignored the comment. "Can I come in?" she asked.
"Of course," he told her snidely. "You are the one who didn't want anything to do with me, remember?"
Liz rolled her eyes impatiently. "Can we fight later?" she asked as she pushed past him into the room. She collapsed on the sofa. That's when Dean realized that she had blood on her hands.
Jason was a few moments behind. "What's wrong, Liz? Are you hurt? Whose blood is on your hands?" There was nothing but concern in his voice now.
Liz buried her face in her hands, inadvertently smearing blood wherever she touched. "They killed her," she told him. "They killed her and there was nothing I could do about it."
"They killed who, Liz?" Alarm began to creep into his voice. He turned her face so that she was looking at him. She had tear tracks running down her face from where she had cried sometime in the recent past. "What's going on?"
"They killed Jess."
Confusion crept into the corners of Jason's eyes. "Who is Jess?" he asked. Dean was not sure how his stomach tightened when he did not even have a body, but it did. He did not want to hear about Jess's death, and he wanted to be out of a body that was covered in her blood.
"She's Sam's girlfriend," Liz explained. "I overheard my dad say that they were afraid that Sam might propose to her. They decided to let that stupid yellow-eyed demon take care of her. I tried to save her, but I couldn't."
"Liz," he said, trying to get her to focus. "Liz, whose blood is on your hands?"
The tears started again. "Hers. Symbolic, don't you think?"
"Liz, this is not your fault. You are not responsible for what your dad does."
"He was so distraught. He blamed himself. I could tell."
"He?" Jason's face became a stoic mask. "You saw Sam." There was so much emotion contained within the statement. He untangled himself from her completely then and went to the other side of the room. "Was he everything you imagined?"
The first stirrings of anger worked themselves into Liz's gut. "His girlfriend was just murdered; I didn't stop to chat. Especially considering I was covered in her blood." Her tone was biting.
"How exactly did you get covered in her blood?"
"I tried to help her. It didn't work."
"So you came to me because you thought that I was still smitten enough with you to help without question?"
"I came to you because you are my friend. You are still my friend, aren't you?"
He considered her for a moment. "I guess so," he replied. It sounded like a prison sentence when he said it.
Liz stared at Jason, warring with herself over whether to leave. The scene dissolved, and she was in a field. It was the moment that Liz first saw Sam and Dean. It was surreal to be watching himself from a distance.
Liz was more focused on Sam, though. Her heart started pounding and her breathing became labored. She was extremely sad. It felt like every last ounce of freedom had finally been taken from her.
She went from sadness to pain, anger, and fear as the scene changed. She was in a barn. Her arm was on fire. It had a throbbing pain that had only just begun to become bearable. She looked down and tenderly tested the flesh around the branded part of her forearm. The last thing she wanted to do was make it hurt worse, though, so she quit messing with it and cradled it to her body.
Ginger was beside her, sobbing in fear. Ashley was on the other side of Ginger and holding up even worse. Frank paced in front of them, yelling his head off.
He calmed down for one of his speeches. "You know that God was flawed: he made women," he began. Liz stared dispassionately at him as he got in her face and continued the tirade. He kept yelling as he stood and retrieved a whip. Liz couldn't see Ashley, but Ginger's eyes became as big as saucers.
Frank stalked toward them. "Who is responsible for this fiasco?" he asked.
Liz stared at him with an expression of forced boredom. She knew without looking that the other two girls were more intimidated than she. She took that as a sign she needed to be the leader. "I would say you are," she replied flippantly. She was amazed she sounded so normal when inside she was in turmoil. "You blew everything out of proportion."
"I don't think you want to mess with me right at this moment, Elizabeth," her father warned her.
Liz shrugged in response. Frank clenched his jaw and turned to the other girls. "One of you had better tell me whose bright idea this was," he said. "Otherwise, there is a whip with both of your names on it."
Liz snorted. "You should really work on some new material, Dad. I think that line worked on me when I was like twelve."
Frank cracked the whip, causing Ginger to jump. "You just don't know when to stop today, do you, Liz?"
There was a knot of dread in Liz's stomach as she goaded Frank. "I guess not."
Frank turned away from her in disgust. "Try again, girls," he told Ginger and Ashley. "What happened on the boat that ended with you in a room with Dean Winchester?" Frank slapped the whip across Ginger's legs. She cried out and pulled her legs in.
"It was Liz," she sobbed. "Liz thought it would be a funny joke."
Liz whipped her head around to stare at Ginger at the same time that Frank turned to Liz. Ginger stared at the ground with a guilty look on her face.
"Well, Liz?" Frank prompted her. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Liz suddenly felt much older than she was. "I thought it would be a funny joke," she responded emotionlessly. "I convinced Ginger and Ashley to go along with me."
Frank became enraged. "Is that what happened?" he asked Ashley.
Ashley's eyes darted between Ginger and Liz. Liz refused to look at her, and Ginger was vigorously nodding her head up and down. Ashley looked at Frank and nodded reluctantly.
"I can't hear you," he told her.
"Yes, that's what happened," she told him.
Frank rolled his eyes. "You girls are pathetic," he observed. He pulled Liz to her feet and forced her to look at him. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"
"I'm sorry," she said as sincerely as she could manage. "I didn't know that it would be such a big deal. I'm sure that you are disappointed in me."
"I'm disgusted with you," Frank told her. "You know what this means, right?"
Liz took a deep breath. Dread filled her chest. "Yes."
"You know what to do."
Liz nodded and took off her shirt, leaving her in her bra. She walked over to a set of chains that was slung over one of the beams in the barn. She grabbed a worn piece of wood and bit down on it then shackled herself into the shackles.
Liz knew what was coming next and knew it wouldn't be pleasant. She was turned away from Frank, though, so she had no warning against the first crack of the whip. Her back exploded in pain where the leather made contact with her skin. Frank continued beating her until her back was cut into bloody ribbons. She must have passed out because the next thing she knew, Frank was telling someone to clean her up.
Ginger appeared in her line of sight. She reached for the shackles with shaking hands and had to try several times to get them undone because they were slick with blood from the cuts that Liz had gotten when she pulled against her restraints.
Ginger was sobbing in earnest as she wrapped Liz's back with the shirt Liz had removed. She helped Liz to her feet and led her out of the building. There was a bench near the front entrance, and Ginger headed straight for it. When she had gotten Liz situated, she sat down beside her.
"I'm so sorry, Liz," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I had no idea that he would do that to you. I thought he would let you off because you're his daughter."
Liz was fighting back nausea and unconsciousness, so she said nothing in response. She did not want to comfort Ginger. All things considered, she figured that Ginger needed to grovel some.
Several minutes passed while Liz gathered her strength. Finally, she glanced around. "We need to go," she said. "Sam or Dean might happen by here. That would be bad."
Ginger nodded, eager to please. "Where do you want to go?" she asked.
Liz closed her eyes and took a deep breath and opened them in a diner. It was daylight now, and she was with Sam and Dean. Dean found it strange to be watching himself from across the booth. Liz was so terrified of him. He could feel how unsettled and uncertain he made her. He had not realized that at the time.
Liz stared back and forth between him and Sam and tried to remain calm.
"Would you excuse me?" she asked and headed for the bathroom, trying to keep her cool. Dean remembered the scene from another point of view. He had been glad to get away from Liz at the time. He was too practical to feel bad about that now.
Liz headed for the bathroom, barely getting the door shut before the sobs overtook her. She cried silently, holding her hand over her mouth the whole time. The only noise was the sound of her sucking in wet breaths when her lungs demanded more air.
This continued for a minute or so before Liz took a deep breath and got control of herself. She walked to the sink and splashed some water on her face before studying her face in the mirror.
As bizarre as it had been for Dean to watch himself in Liz's memory, it was even more disconcerting to look in the mirror and have the face looking back not be his. Liz stared at herself for a moment then commanded her mirror image, "Deal with it!"
And that is when Dean realized that something was amiss. Liz stopped moving, but the image in the mirror did not. He thought he had made his peace with dying, but at that moment, Dean realized that he still could be mortally afraid. The image of Liz came out of the mirror, stretching languidly when it was fully in the bathroom.
Everything in Dean was screaming with the effort of trying to make Liz move, but she was frozen in place. Even her eyes would not close. The Liz that had crawled out of the mirror turned its attention to the other Liz, reaching into her chest and grabbing Dean. He had no idea how she did so, but she did. Mirror Liz yanked on him until he was fully removed from Liz's body.
Dean was not sure what he expected but a curious once-over from whatever had pulled him out of Liz's mind was not it.
"You know, there's more to the story than that. Liz had good moments, too," the thing wearing Liz's face told him.
When it became apparent that Dean was not about to be attacked, he got angry. "Who are you?" he demanded.
Mirror Liz smiled infuriatingly. "That is not important. If you need to know, though, I'll tell you. I am best known as one of the fates. I had the pleasure of meeting your lovely wife some time ago. I must say, I think congratulations are in order."
"She's not my wife," Dean protested automatically.
Mirror Liz smiled that smile again. "She is now."
Dean had no response, so he waited for the Fate to continue. She did not disappoint. "There is a reason that I have come. My sisters think that I am being meddlesome, but I like you and Liz and your brother too much not to try to help you out. So, I've come to tell you seven things. These seven things will aid you at crucial times in the future. Here they are: 1. Liz is always looking out for you. Trust that. 2. Death is not always what it seems. 3. 15246 Pennington Lane, Ballentine, South Carolina. 4.6564112 5. Cut the orange wire. 6. You always liked the name Christopher. 7. Sometimes fratricide is the answer."
"You don't really expect me to remember that, do you?" Dean asked.
"But of course. You know where it is. You are in Liz's head, and I am storing it here in this memory. What else do you need to know? When you need it, you can come and find it. Liz will never know it's here."
"And that's all the help you're giving me?"
Mirror Liz smiled. "If I made if easy on you, then you wouldn't have nearly as much fun."
"You think I've been having fun recently?" Disbelief and outrage colored Dean's voice.
The Fate shrugged. "Good point. I don't envy you the coming years, either. There'll be better ones, though."
"Years?" Dean snorted. "I'll be dead in a few days."
"O, ye of little faith," the Fate scolded. "I told Liz that everything would work out, and it already has."
Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm tired of this cryptic BS. If you want to help, give me information that I can use."
Mirror Liz smirked. "I've given you all the information you need. Now do me a favor and give me a kiss. It's time for you to wake up, big boy."
"A kiss? Screw you."
The Fate's eyes lit up. "That would be even better," she said, laughing throatily. She stopped and smiled calmly at Dean. "Kiss me or don't. It's your choice. I think you should know, though, that you are stuck in Liz's head until I get some sugar."
Dean glared at the look-alike Liz then grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her lips against his. The world went black.