Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to The CW and Eric Kripke.
Suggested Songs:
- "Fade To Black" by Metallica
Chapter Fifteen: Part Three
After a fair amount of convincing (and Dean having to cut himself with the silver knife again), they'd finally managed to convince Bobby that Dean was Dean. But there hadn't been much time for celebration. Sam was the next Winchester to worry about. They managed to track his cellphone and promptly began to head his way; they would be in Pontiac, Illinois by midnight. Bobby had opted to take his own car, but only following an argument between he and Melissa about who got to drive. Dean had noticed a tension between the two of them he couldn't describe, but said nothing. So, as the sun was setting on a lonely highway, Melissa led the caravan, a slight breeze slipping warmly through the cracked window and Dean's hand on her knee. She felt like she was in a dream.
"Are you real, Dean?" she asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence and wondering how soon she would wake up.
He chuckled a little and a rubbed a hand down her arm, sighing softly at the familiar rumbling cough of the truck's engine and memories of the day they first met. "'Course I am, Missy."
He brought a hand to her cheek and she closed her eyes for only a moment, letting a tear slip down onto his fingers. She had been expecting it to feel the way it had when he was a ghost in the hospital after the car wreck, but his hands were rough and warm.
"Hey," he said softly. "It's alright."
Breathing out slowly, she shook her head a little and gave a broken laugh. There was a beat of silence as Dean took Melissa's right hand in his own, and she bit her lip as she watched the road.
She cleared her throat, asking an even scarier question. "Do you remember?"
"What? Hell?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, the Titans. Yes, hell."
He sighed and looked out the window to the passing scenery, not believing that soon the leaves would change. That he'd lost a whole summer. "No," he said huskily. "Not a thing."
The truck continued to jiggle down the highway, the sky mixing blue and pink, as Melissa squeezed his hand tightly. He knew that she knew he was lying, she could read him too well, but neither of them acknowledged it. For now, just being close to each other was enough.
"So...Sam...what happened?" he asked. Melissa took her hand away and ran her hand through her hair, clenching the steering wheel. Dean furrowed his brows.
"I already told you...he was just...gone."
. . .
Dim lights never did suit after-hunt injuries, and Melissa grimaced as she cleaned herself up in the yellow hue of the bathroom. She had an ugly, bruised gash across her eyebrow and her cheeks were smudged with dirt. Sam had been little help with anything lately, so it seemed like she would have to stitch herself up alone tonight. She looked around for a moment and then felt silly; there wouldn't be any whiskey in the bathroom. She heaved a sigh and went back into the room, missing the sight of Dean's leather jacket hung up or his boots placed haphazardly at the foot of the bed. Sam was too neat. Sometimes she missed a little mess.
She went straight for the top of the fridge, taking a swig of the Jack Daniels. It burned her throat but sat warmly in her stomach, and she smiled at the feeling as she took another sip before looking up as Sam stormed through the door, both their bags over one shoulder and his boots unlaced.
"Here, let me help you," she said quietly, stumbling a bit over her words and her feet, the whiskey sloshing around in its bottle. It had been a very long day.
"Don't bother," he replied, throwing them down on the lumpy bed a little ways across the room. He glanced up at her as he sat down. "Gonna finish that whole fifth, Dean?"
She looked down at the bottle in her bloodied hands and groaned. She slammed it down on the rickety kitchen table beside her and rubbed at her temples, closing her eyes and ignoring the pains in her joints and her wound.
"Sammy, can we please not do this tonight," she growled tiredly.
"Don't call me that," he snapped, standing up and grimacing slightly at his strained muscles.
He stepped close, towering over her.
"What are ya gonna do, Sam? Hit me?" she tempted viciously. Things hadn't been the same between them since the night Dean bit it.
He stayed silent, clenching his jaw.
"Thought so. Can't do anything without your big brother here to protect you, can ya?" she scoffed. At this point, her filter was pretty much gone.
"I can't believe I thought you were family," he shot back coldly, his eyes calm.
She turned around with her face set in anger, breathing heavily and unsure what to do. So, in true dysfunctional hunter fashion, she grabbed the whiskey, went over to the sink, and smashed the bottle onto the already cracked porcelain. The thick glass shattered immediately with her force. She had a lot of tension to blow these days.
"Hey!" Sam yelled at her outburst. But, she didn't look at him as she rushed back into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard that the windows shook.
Sam merely sighed and sat back down at the foot of his bed. These fights were happening almost nightly now, and they almost always ended with one of them storming off.
All she was to him now was a reminder of Dean. She wasn't Melissa anymore. She was a ghost. She wore his necklace and laughed in the face of danger instead of cowered. When Dean was alive, they had seemed so different to him, but now that his brother was gone, they were exactly the same. He could hardly look at her without seeing Dean. He couldn't take it anymore.
So, that night, as Melissa tossed and turned and occasionally muttered his brother's name, Sam slipped out into the night before his brother's memory could slow him down from saving him any longer.
. . .
A pit of anxiety churned in Melissa's stomach as they approached the sleazy motel door. She hadn't seen Sam since the night he left. She didn't know what shape he'd be in, considering how he'd been the last time she'd seen him. She bit at her lips and ran hands through her hair, unable to quiet her nerves or hide her tells. Dean noticed, ran a hand down the arm of her leather, and gave her that same old smile. She returned it halfheartedly, still thinking she might wake up at any point. Bobby knocked on the door loudly and they waited for the moment of truth.
The door opened to reveal a short young woman, dressed in only a tank top and panties. "So…" she raised her eyebrows expectantly, "where is it?"
"Where's what?" Dean spoke up as the three of them looked between each other, confused.
"The pizza," the woman said. "It takes three people to deliver now?"
Dean smiled at her awkwardly. "I think we got the wrong room."
"Hey, is…" Sam started, walking into the light of the doorway. He stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he laid his eyes on Dean.
"Hiya, Sammy," Dean said quietly, his eyes watery and his smile unwavering. The young woman stepped aside to let them in, Dean not giving her a glance. Bobby and Melissa followed.
Dean stepped toward his little brother happily, but as soon as he got close Sam lunged with a knife. Dean almost rolled his eyes. It was the third time in 24 hours this had happened to him. But instead, he jumped back and Melissa went in front of him, blocking the attack. Bobby managed to get behind Sam and grab him by the shoulders to restrain him.
"Who are you?!" Sam yelled to Dean.
"Like you didn't do this?!" Dean countered. Melissa didn't know what to think, judging by the fact that when Sam had left three months ago they'd had exactly zero pieces of evidence in finding Lillith. And Melissa knew the crossroads demons weren't talking. She'd known that since the night they buried Dean.
. . .
She wiped the red dirt from her palms onto her denim-clad thighs as she stepped back from the hole in the crossroads. Her skin was glistening with sweat in the June moonlight.
"Come and get me y'all!" she screamed up at the starless sky, only yellowing grass and gravel below her feet. Her truck was parked a few yards behind her. "Black-eyed bastards!"
She was met with only the chirping of the crickets at first, until a smooth, dark voice came from behind her."Well, well, well, if it isn't Bitchlissa Lowry."
She smirked and turned to face the demon, a tall woman with black stilettos and bleach-blonde hair.
"Is that really the best you can do?" Melissa slurred, not bothering to wipe away what seemed like perpetual tears wetting her cheeks.
"So…" the demon ignored her. "What can I do for you?"
"Don't play dumb," Melissa answered.
"Ahh, yes…" the demon spoke as she circled around Melissa, who tugged at the sleeves of Dean's red flannel. "That boot-wearing ape you think you love. To be honest, I never really saw it."
"Please, will you just cut the crap? Let's make the swap," Melissa urged her, trying her best for it not to sound like a plea. She didn't beg for demons, but this was making her get very close.
"Sweetheart-"
"Don't call me that."
"As much as I would love to drag your sorry ass down to hell with me-I mean, the Melissa Lowry?-I can't. Payroll won't allow it."
. . .
"It's him! It's him," Bobby insisted. "Sam, we've been through this already. It's really him."
Slowly, very slowly, Sam stopped struggling, and his face fell. His eyes never left Dean, who took a few steps out from behind Melissa towards his little brother.
"I know," he said, "I look fantastic."
Bobby finally let Sam free of his grasp and the brothers took each other in a desperate hug. Melissa let her face be split in a wide smile as she watched them, trying to blink the glassiness from her eyes. It was moments like these when she was amazed by their love, and her heart ached for Rosie.
"So," the petite young woman spoke up from the corner by the door. "You guys are like...together?"
Melissa cleared her throat and almost giggled at the question. Everyone had forgotten the woman was in the room for the intimate moment.
"What?" Sam said, pulling away from Dean. "No. No. He's my brother."
The woman clicked her tongue and nodded slowly. "Well then, I should probably go."
"Uh...yeah. Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Sam said to the woman as she quickly dressed. He put on a button-down of his own and led her to the door as the other three watched awkwardly.
Melissa was more than surprised. She was expecting either hardened hunter or drunken mess, not, well, a copy of Dean. Wasn't that why he'd left her in the first place?
"So," she heard the woman from the doorway. "Call me."
"Yeah, sure, Kathy," Sam lied through his teeth.
"Kristy," she corrected with disappointment.
Once Sam had shut the door in her face he turned back to the other hunters, pointedly avoiding Melissa's eyes. He wondered if she'd told Bobby what really happened. He sat down on the scratchy comforter of the bed, Bobby and Dean looming over him with suspicion. Melissa sat down on the leather couch, biting her lips.
"So, tell me," Dean glared at his brother, "What'd it cost?"
Sam smiled. "What? The girl? I don't pay, Dean."
"That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back," Dean accused. "What'd it cost? Your soul or was it something worse?"
Melissa shifted uncomfortably in her spot, remembering the flashing red eyes of the crossroads demon.
"You think I made a deal?" Sam asked.
"That's exactly what we think," Bobby replied. Melissa hadn't voiced her doubts. The only one who knew she'd gone to make a deal was Sam.
"Well, I didn't."
"Don't lie to me," Dean said, stepping closer to Sam.
"I'm not lying."
"So, what now?" Dean asked. "I'm off the hook, and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't wanna be saved like this."
Sam stood up quickly and Melissa flinched at seeing it from the corner of her eye. She could take down a whole pack of vampires alone, but sometimes Sam Winchester scared her a little more. Hell, sometimes Dean did too.
"Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, alright?" Sam shouted.
Dean grabbed Sam by the collar. "There's no other way this could've gone down! Now, tell the truth!"
Sam pushed his older brother off of him and his face burned red with anger and memory. "I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, alright? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months...and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me. Dean, I'm sorry."
Dean stared at Sam for a moment but finally he stepped back and softened his gaze. "It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize. I believe you."
"Don't get me wrong," Bobby said from his place near Melissa, "I'm glad Sam's soul is still intact, but that does raise a sticky question."
"If he didn't pull me out," Dean spoke the words plaguing everyone else's mind, "then, what did?"
Author's Note: Hello, hello! I took a little break but now I'm happily back. I hope everyone is excited for the new year and for the continuation of this story. I know I am!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading! More soon.
A special thanks to SomebodyWhoCares, LoveFiction2017, ImsebastianstanButter, and KathleenWinchester for your wonderful reviews! They mean so much and they are greatly appreciated. Sorry this chapter took so long, but I've got the next few installments all planned out, so never fear!
PLEASE review down below to let me know what you thought.
Peace and love.