Present Day:
I couldn't remember how it had happened. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline that came with seeing Sam fall to the ground. Perhaps it was some divinely given strength. I couldn't say. All I really knew was that, somehow, I managed to fight free of the demon's grasp. Maybe I even cut him before he fled.
I didn't remember. What I did remember was being alone; being knelt at my brother's side.
The shuddered breath asked for no permission before it slipped past my lips.
I could still feel the oozing red liquid sticking to my fingers. I could still see Sammy's eyes, so lost and scared, as the life faded from them. I couldn't tell you the clothes I was wearing or what I ate that day, but I could describe in great detail every line in my brother's face that told me the story of the pain he was in as his life was slowly stolen away. It was an image that would stick with me to my dying day. I could forget my name and where I lived, but I would forever remember that day.
The only comfort to be found in the fact that Sam was gone was that he was finally free. He was free of the hunter's life, he was free of the pain and the loss, and maybe - just maybe - he was happy.
DSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDS
Three months ago:
"Dean?" The voice sounded like a distant whisper in the back of my mind.
"Hey, Dean!" It was louder this time - closer, almost. Or perhaps that was just my perception of it.
"Are you alive in there?" Was I? That was a good question. I felt alive, but where was the world? Why was there only darkness?
"Open your eyes," the voice commanded, though it sounded more like the voice of a bored child than a demanding adult.
Slowly, I attempted to obey the voice. The moment I began to open my eyes, however, I was attacked by brutal rays of sunshine that seemed determined to withhold my vision from me.
"Gahh," I grunted as I rose a hand to block the harsh light filtering in through a nearby window. "Huh?"
"Dean! You're awake!" Now that my mind was beginning to clear, I realized that the owner of the voice was indeed a child, and as my vision adjusted to the lighting, I was granted a glance at that child.
It was a young girl, it seemed. Her blond hair was tied into a sloppy, loose bun on top of her head, and her vibrant, blue eyes seemed to stare right into my very soul with the curiosity of a hundred cats. From the looks of her, I had to say she was six, maybe seven years of age? I never was very good at guessing ages. Or... was I?
It was then that I realized I didn't know. I didn't... remember.
My brow furrowed and I couldn't help the tint of panic that gripped me. Why couldn't I remember? Why didn't I remember anything?
"Your forehead looks like Pugsley's," the young girl said, her blue eyes gleaming as her little index finger jerked to the far corner of the room. There, sound a sleep, laid a dog - a pug, to be exact - snoring softly.
"W-where am I?" The room I was in was far from familiar, but could that just be me? Clearly, my memory was screwed up. Maybe this bedroom was part of my home, and perhaps this bed I was in was the one I called my own.
"You're at my house," the girl said, little pink lips turning up in a sugar-sweet smile. "Daddy didn't want you to get sent away, so he told the doctors that you could stay at our house!"
"He... wha?" What was she even talking about? Houses, dads, doctors? Was this something I was supposed to know about?
"Ahhh." The girl offered a knowing look. "Daddy said your head got broken, so you might not remember us."
All I could do was slowly nod. She was right about that. I didn't remember her at all.
"My name is Sophie!" The child beamed as she introduced herself. "My daddy and me found you by the road. I thought you were dead, but I guess the doctors just had to fix you."
"Found me by the road?" That was news for sure. How on earth does a guy end up on the side of the road?
"Yep! And the only thing you said while they were fixing you was 'Dean.' So, that must be your name, right?" The girl - Sophie - stared expectantly at me, blue eyes gleaming curiously. Apparently she expected me to know the answer. I couldn't blame her. I should know, but I just... didn't.
"I don't know." It was as simple as that. "Dean," I muttered aloud to myself. The name felt so familiar on my lips, but it didn't feel like it belonged to me. "I'm not Dean."
It was nice to finally determine something for sure, but it also left me with another problem. What was my name?
"If you're not Dean, then what's your name? And who's Dean?" Sophie had spoken the very questions bustling through my busy mind at that very moment, but unfortunately asking them aloud did anything but help.
"I... I don't know." And it was so frustrating. It was like everything was right there for me to see, but just out of reach.
Instinctively, my hands rose to comb through my hair, but though my right hand was able to make it successfully over my shoulders, my left hand caught just inches from where it first shifted.
"What the-" I didn't have to see to know what it was. Somehow, the feeling of a metal cuff on my wrist didn't feel so foreign.
"Sophie!" The large, booming voice was a startling contrast to the mostly otherwise peaceful atmosphere. The girl tensed and turned to the door behind her. In the threshold stood a man, tall with blond hair to match that of Sophie's, and brown eyes to match those of Pugsley who now sat awake and attentive.
The man's looks, however, were what drew the least of my attention. What truly caught my eye was the shotgun resting over his right shoulder. Hopefully that wasn't meant for me. The cuff on my wrist did nothing to encourage me, though.
"What did I tell you about coming in here?" the man asked, and I figured I'd be correct in guessing that this was Sophie's father.
The way she averted her gaze shamefully and fingered a loose string on the hem of her shirt only went forth to convince me further. "You said to not to."
"Because we don't know this man. He could be dangerous. Just because his prints come back clean doesn't mean he hasn't done bad." Hardened, brown eyes landed on me, and I found myself wishing I could just sink into the mattress and disappear.
For all I knew, this man could be right. Maybe I was dangerous. I didn't remember, so it was entirely possible for me to be a killer, especially since I seemed to know the feeling of my wrist in a cuff.
"I promise, sir, I don't mean your daughter any harm. I just want to know where I am." It was the honest truth, only I should've added "I want to know who I am" onto the end of it.
"You may be telling the truth, boy, but we ain't got no way to know that for sure. You get to stay right there till I decide you can be trusted to do otherwise." I could see the man's fingers tightening around the butt of his gun. The threat was clear, and I'd be wise to do as he said.
"Of course. Just... can you tell me where I am?" Not that it will do me much good. I didn't even know where I wanted to be.
"Alabama," was the curt reply. "Found you on the side of the road a month ago. You were banged up pretty bad. Got stuck in a coma, had seizures, woke up and had no clue who you were. Doctors fixed you up best they could, but couldn't find out who you were or where you came from. If it weren't for me, you'd be rotting away in some facility somewhere. I don't trust the government. Couldn't let some innocent be subjected to whatever experiments they wanna run on ya. Course, if you aren't innocent, guess I'll just have to turn you in."
Somehow, the idea that I'd be experimented on seemed pretty farfetched, but I couldn't help appreciating the man's concern. He took me in, even though I could be a danger to his family. That had to take some guts.
"I don't mean anybody any harm," I assured the man. "I just want to know what happened. I want to get back home as badly as you want me out of here."
I allowed every ounce of my sincerety to bleed into my gaze in hopes that the man would see it and opt to believe it. For what seemed like forever, he stared, eyes searching my face, and mind working to figure out what he should think of my words. However, after a few moments, his fingers began to loosen and his features softened to merely a hardened stare that I would take over that fierce scowl any day.
"Fine," he said, voice noticeably lacking the same tension from before. "But you're staying right there in that bed till further notice, you got that?"
I just nodded slowly. I understood the man's reasoning. He needed to protect his daughter, and keeping me chained was the best way to do that at the moment.
"The name's Jeremiah, by the way." To my surprise, the man even offered his hand for me to shake. Maybe getting this guy to warm up to me wouldn't be so hard after all.
"Thank you for opening your home to me, Jeremiah." I took the hand with my free one and shook it as firmly as I could. If I had known who I was, perhaps I would've given my name to him in return, but alas no matter how deep I dug, I couldn't find a thing. Without my memories, I had nothing - not even a name.
AN: I'd love to know what you guys think so far! Reviews are muchly appreciated! The more reviews I get, the more likely I am to keep up a consistent chapter update ;) Thanks, y'all!