CHAPTER THIRTY

2x01 - In My Time of Dying (Part 2)

In My Time of Dying ~ Led Zeppelin

"...All I want for you to do

Is take my body home."

It took only a few moments of talking to Tessa to make it clear to Ronnie she was like them, stuck in-between, not dead but not alive. They found Tessa's body pretty easily, too — she'd come in to the hospital for a routine appendectomy, but apparently something had gone terribly wrong.

As Dean walked Tessa through the ropes of what he and Ronnie had been experiencing, Ronnie meandered around the hospital, wondering if she could find any other wandering lost souls. It couldn't just be her, Dean, and Tessa out here hovering between life and death. There had to be more. This was a hospital, for Christ's sake.

She was halfway between where she'd left Dean and John's hospital room when she felt the air around her grow warm for just a moment. She froze, confused.

She was about to keep walking, wondering if maybe she was finally losing her mind, when she heard a deep voice whisper, "You're not done."

She froze again, this time every part of her snapping to attention. "Who was that?" she called.

"You're not done," the voice said again. "You have too much to do."

She whirled around. The hallway was empty, save for a couple nurses far down the hall chatting over their clipboards. "Who's there?" she asked. "Who are you?"

"You're not done."

The air cooled again, and Ronnie blinked. She knew that, whatever it was, it was gone.

She turned in the hall, making her way back to her hospital room. Her search for other lost souls had been entirely abandoned; she needed to tell Dean what had happened, see if he had any ideas what it could have possibly been.

But when Ronnie got to her own room, Dean was gone, as was Tessa. It was just her body, breathing slowly with the help of additional oxygen, looking bruised and battered and pathetic. Ronnie tended to fancy herself a bit of a badass — she could take a couple of cuts and bruises and beatings and still toss her opponent a smirk as she went at them again. It came with the territory of hunting — you had to make danger a little bit fun, or else you'd be too scared to ever confront it.

But she certainly did not look badass in that hospital bed. She wasn't tall, strong, determined, ready to take on the world. Instead, she was small, weak, hurt, and looking like she was one strong wind away from being taken from this world and into the next.

"C'mon," Ronnie growled at herself. "Wake up. Wake up and then figure out some way to drag Dean back, too. But you can't keep being here, asleep, for no reason. Dean's got a reason, his brain is all screwed up apparently, but you're fine! You're just not waking up."

Her body remained still.

She sighed, about to yell some expletives at herself, when the door the room opened and Sam walked in. He brushed past Ronnie, obviously not knowing she was there, and then he sat at her bedside, looking at her intently.

"Hey, bud," he said softly.

"Hey, bud," she replied quietly. Of course, he didn't hear a thing.

"I'm sorry that this happened," he said after a moment. "Honestly, I'm sorry that we happened to you. I feel like you were better off without us. I feel like you were doing better when we weren't in your life."

"That's not true at all," Ronnie whispered. "You didn't see what I was like before finding you guys again."

"I mean, look at you," Sam continued, his voice picking up steam. "You shouldn't be here. I mean, within the last week, you got chomped on by a vampire, tortured by a demon, and then smacked by a semi. And we… we didn't even really have a real conversation about that guy in Lincoln, I know that must've been… well, I don't know. Not ideal. You seemed really torn up about it." He took a deep breath, looking at her body. "Seriously, how are you not dead?"

"Good question," she muttered, cringing at the memory of the guy in Lincoln. If she didn't pull through, she wouldn't die a virgin, but she would die a girl who'd only had sex once, and the sex had been really bad, and that had to be way worse than not having any sex at all.

"God, Ronnie, it's bad," he groaned. "It's so bad. Dean's maybe worse off than you, I don't even know at this point. And Dad's got some plan involving a goddamn demon, and you're here, and… and I think maybe Dean's so far gone that his ghost might be wandering around. I don't know, there was this thing with a cup…." He shook his head.

"We're here!" she told him, kneeling by him. "Sam, we're here!" She looked around, trying to figure out how the hell Dean had made that cup move earlier, but at a total loss as she glanced to and fro.

"Can I tell you what scares me the most, Ronnie?" he said in a softer voice, as if someone might possibly overhear them. "I mean, obviously, I'm scared that neither of you will wake up. Terrified of that. But I think I'm more scared…."

He trailed, and Ronnie froze, looking at him. What could he possibly fear more at that moment?

"Ah, dammit," Sam said, running a hand through his hair, looking troubled. "I'm terrified of only one of you waking up. You and Dean are too important to each other. I mean, you're my best friend, but you and Dean… I don't know. You two are just… in sync. You're each other's anchors, and I… I mean, I don't know, you made it out of hunting once, maybe you could adapt to life without Dean again, but…"

He trailed, and Ronnie was still, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And it did. "I don't think Dean could make it without you. I really don't. He has me, but you're his… I don't know. His everything, I guess."

His words froze her. She couldn't have said a word to him even if he'd hear her.

"I know he loves you," Sam said, so softly that it was hard for Ronnie to pick up the words even though she was right next to him. "Because he has since we were kids. We both have, of course, you're our family. But sometimes I wonder if he…. Ronnie?"

Ronnie was staring into the corner, so lightning struck by Sam's words, that she hadn't even noticed that his eyes had glued onto hers.

She didn't know if she had a heartbeat in this ghostlike realm she was in, but it still felt like it stopped within her chest. "Can you… can you see me?" she whispered.

He nodded, and then his face twisted in pain. "Oh, god, are you… are you a ghost?"

She shook her head. "No, just… somewhere in between, I think. Dean's here, too."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "How could — no, no, no! Ronnie, where'd you go?"

His eyes slipped away from hers, and her mouth dropped open as she realized she had disappeared to him again. It was if her intense, emotional surprise at his words had lifted the veil between them, even if just for a couple moments, and then the moment she was at ease again — the moment she could speak with her best friend — the veil had dropped back, and she was hidden once again.

Sam stood quickly. "I have an idea. Ronnie, if what you said is true, get Dean and come back here as quickly as you can."

She didn't need to be told twice. She flew out of the room, ducking her head into every hospital room as she sprinted down the hall. "Dean!" she cried out. "Dean! Dean, where are you? I talked to Sam! Dean!"

She couldn't find him anywhere, and so she circled back to her room, hoping that maybe he'd made his way back. As she walked, her chest felt heavier and heavier. What if he'd disappeared, and she didn't even realize? What if he'd woken up? What if, god forbid—

"Freckles, you look like you just saw a ghost."

She looked up and realized she'd made her way back to her room, and Dean was there, standing by her bed. She blinked twice, the fears in her heart dissipating. "I talked to Sam," she said quickly.

Dean's head jerked up. "What?"

"He was talking to me there," she said, gesturing towards her inert body, "and I was listening and feeling so helpless and upset and…." Confused. Emotional. "And suddenly he just… could see me. It didn't last long, but I told him you were here. I think he has an idea, he said for us to come here and stay here."

Dean nodded tersely. "Let's hope it's a good idea. This dimension is starting to get on my friggin' nerves."

She glanced around the room. "Where's Tessa?"

"I think trying to make peace with the situation we're in," Dean responded with a slight shrug.

Before Ronnie could say anything in response, Sam reentered the room, a box in his hand. As Sam opened it, she was able to get a closer look, and her eyes widened. "Ah."

"An ouija board?" Dean asked, seeing it as well, his expression making it seem like Sam had just trotted a screaming toddler into the room. "Are you freaking serious?"

"Okay," Sam said to the open air. "If you two are here… don't laugh. I think this could work."

"You've gotta be kidding," Ronnie breathed, unable to keep herself from feeling disappointed. "We're gonna put our lives in the hands of a board game?"

Sam set the board on the floor and sat cross-legged by it. He placed the pointer on top of the ouija board's alphabet, took a deep breath, and said, "Dean? Ronnie? Are you there? The both of you?"

Dean and Ronnie exchanged a look, and then sat down beside the board. Dean reached out a hand to touch the pointer, and judging by the surprised look he immediately threw to Ronnie, he could touch it.

He gently pulled the board, and Ronnie saw Sam's eyes light up in shock. Dean settled the board on the "YES" spot.

"Well I'll be damned," Dean remarked.

Sam grinned ear to ear. "It's good to hear from you guys, wow. It's just… it's not the same without you."

"'Course not," Ronnie grumbled. "It's always quieter without Dean."

"Oh, shove it, freckles," Dean retorted. He returned his energy to the board and started moving the pointer across the board.

"What are you trying to tell him?" Ronnie asked.

"That we're hunting," Dean said, concentrating on the board.

"We're hunting?" she responded. "What are we hunting?"

"Hunting?" Sam echoed at nearly the same time. "What are you hunting?"

Dean moved the pointer more, and Ronnie watched along with Sam.

"A reaper?" Ronnie and Sam asked at the same time.

Ronnie looked at Dean closely. "Is that what you think that gray spirit thing was?"

He nodded. "I don't think it's killing people. I just think it's… taking them. When… their time is up."

She swallowed.

Sam looked at the board with steely eyes. "Is it going after Ronnie?"

Dean glanced at Ronnie after the corner of his eye, and then he moved the pointer to the "NO" spot.

"How do you know?" Ronnie asked sharply. "What the hell did I miss while we were separated?"

Dean ignored her as Sam's jaw tensed. "Is it after you, Dean?"

Ronnie's stomach soured as she saw Dean drag the pointer to "YES."

Sam's frown deepened. "If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it," he said.

"Yeah," Dean replied grimly, eyes on his little brother. "I think I'm screwed here."

"No," Sam and Ronnie said at the same time.

Sam stood up. "There's gotta be a way," he said. "Dad… Dad will know what to do. Meet me at your room, Dean, it's a good halfway point."

He bolted out of the room before the two of them could do anything, and Ronnie just stared at Dean.

"How do you know this?" she challenged.

"I saw the spirit again," Dean said. "It… it killed this kid. Or well…the kid died and the reaper just… did its thing."

"And it tried to get you, when you were flatlining," Ronnie said, feeling the dread creep through her veins. He was right. "If it's after you, it's gonna be after me, too."

"Yeah, but… me first," Dean said. "Looks like you're stronger than me after all, freckles. You seem to be holding on a bit better."

She couldn't help but smirk. "I would like that sentence in writing, Winchester."

A grin touched his lips for just a moment and then disappeared. "Maybe I would, but I can't even hold a goddamn pen."

They were silent for a long moment. As Dean looked at her, she thought about Sam's words, about his fears of only one of them waking up, of what Dean would be if he woke up and she didn't. She didn't even want to think too hard about what Sam had maybe been about to say before he got interrupted by being able to see Ronnie. That wasn't exactly going to be helpful to their situation.

She needed to stop. There wasn't time to dwell on this. "Dean, I meant to tell you this earlier, but back before I was able to talk to Sam… I heard this voice."

Dean's gaze immediately sharpened. After everything with Sam and his psychic abilities, hearing voices wasn't exactly an ignorable statement. "What kind of voice?"

"I don't know, but the air got really warm for a second, like I was in a sauna or something, and then it just told me you're not done."

Dean stared at her. "You're not done?"

She shrugged. "Then everything went back to normal."

Dean kept staring at her, and then, so sharply it almost made her jump, he swore loudly and stood up. "I'm tired of this," he barked to no one in particular. "So many goddamn puzzle pieces. Why can't we catch a friggin' break? What did we do to deserve any of this?"

Ronnie had no answer. But she didn't need one — Sam burst into the room a moment later, holding John's journal.

"Okay, I'm back. Hope you guys are too." Ronnie stood up, hovering near Dean. "Dad wasn't in his room, but I got his journal."

Dean looked troubled. "Where is he, then? Wasn't he supposed to stay in bed?"

Sam didn't seem to have that question in mind. Instead, he was flipping through the journal until he found the page he was looking for. "I don't know, there might be something in here," he mumbled.

Ronnie and Dean looked over his shoulder at the page, which was labeled "REAPERS" in John's distinctive handwriting. Ronnie was reading through the whole page carefully, but Dean must have been skimming it until he found something interesting, because his head jerked up at one moment and he looked at Ronnie with wide eyes. "Son of a bitch."

"What?"

"Follow me, quick," he said, and he rushed out of the room. Confused, unwilling to just ditch Sam, but trusting Dean with the immediacy she always did, she followed him.

Dean was looking into every room they passed, searching through them furiously, conscious of Ronnie tagging along behind him, unsure what or who he was looking for. But there wasn't time to explain to her.

When they got to Ronnie's hospital room, a feeling of cold dread filled him, and he knew that's where he needed to be. He stepped into the room and found that he was correct.

There was Ronnie, lying in her bed, breathing and unconscious and just the same as before.

Sitting at the foot of her bed, wearing regular clothes and not hospital garb, was Tessa.

The sight of her so close to Ronnie, hovering so near to her human form, spiked Dean's adrenaline and his eyes narrowed. "Get the hell away from her," he snapped.

"Dean," Ronnie said in shock. She didn't understand. She hadn't read what he'd read.

"She's not a lost soul," Dean explained to her without taking his eyes off Tessa. "She's the reaper. Dad's journal said they could alter human perception, make humans see what they want to see. Like, perhaps, a pretty girl."

Ronnie's eyes widened, understanding. As if it would do anything, he took the smallest step in front of Ronnie, putting his body (spirit?) in between her and the reaper.

Tessa turned, her face shockingly sympathetic and kind. It unnerved Dean. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to figure it out."

"What about the girl and her mother?" Dean asked, thinking back to the person that Tessa had claimed to be, the girl with the routine appendectomy gone wrong. "Was that real?"

Tessa shrugged. "It's my sandbox, Dean. You're just playing in it. I can make you see whatever I want you to see."

"And what do you want us to see? Really?" Dean asked her, apprehension starting to fog up his mind.

Her eyes shined brightly. "That death is nothing to fear. And that it's time to go."

Ronnie took a step forward. "So...my time is up? Is that why you're hovering over my body like that?"

Dean was going to deny it, tell her there was no way in hell, but Tessa stood up, turning her eyes to Ronnie. "You're very interesting," she said, tilting her head to the side. "You're here, hovering between the worlds. But you're not supposed to move on yet. I don't know if I've ever seen that. Unfortunate for you, though. Your body looks ready for the fight to be over. You really have been through enough. Eternal rest would probably be a blessing."

Ronnie's face was unreadable to Dean. Her blue eyes were locked onto Tessa, unblinking. Dean knew her mind was working quickly, trying to silently figure out what was going on.

You're not done. That's what Ronnie said the voice had told her.

Not done with what?

Tessa shrugged again. "Maybe you're stuck here because of how much you love him," she mused, and Dean straightened, not sure if he was hearing the word's correctly. "Maybe you can't go back until you know what happens to him."

The words affected Ronnie first. Dean watched, uncomprehending, as her cheeks grew red and her eyes widened in genuine surprise. "What?"

Ronnie's eyes flickered over towards Dean, and it felt like something broke inside of him, snapped. Love? Of course, of course she loved him, of course he loved her, they always had, but Tessa's tone was clear. Something else...something more….

He'd felt it poke at the dark, forbidden corners of his mind for months. Maybe longer, if he was being honest with himself. But a few words whispered in his mind were very different than words said out loud.

Tessa rolled her eyes. "C'mon, guys. If now is not the time for honesty, when is? Ronnie, you heard what Sam told you. I think you know it's true."

Dean watched as Ronnie's blush deepened slightly. "I don't…."

Tessa walked to the door. "Look, Ronnie has to return soon, and Dean… it's close to time for you to let go. I'll give you two a moment to say goodbye."

She left.

Ronnie was turned away from Dean, her cheeks still red. She stood motionlessly, staring at her body.

Dean hated the uncomfortable silence. "Guess we'll have to reschedule our ice cream date," he joked.

She lifted her head to reveal tear-filled blue eyes. "Please don't."

Dean switched gears. "What did Sam say?"

She lifted her head, eyes digging into his, her gaze cautious. "Huh?"

He took a small step towards her and Ronnie took a step back as well, finding herself right next to the hospital room wall. "The reaper said Sam told you something. What was it?"

She turned to face him, back against the wall, entire body pointed towards him. "Are you sure you want me to tell you?" she said in a soft voice. "It just could…."

When she didn't finish the sentence, he took another step toward her, the space between them getting smaller and smaller. "It could what?"

Her pinky nail found its way between her teeth again. "Change things," she finally said, her voice sounding a bit like she was having a hard time breathing.

He thought about that for a moment. About how significant those words were. He'd known Ronnie since he was eight years old. She had been three when they first met — she barely had a memory of a time in which she didn't know him. They'd grown up together, in so many ways. Dean had vivid memories of a time when she was nothing more than his brother's annoying little friend that liked to read and talk about the Texas Rangers and listen to ridiculous cowboy music.

When had that changed?

He wasn't fully sure. But he did know that the words themselves wouldn't change things between him and Ronnie. Because things already had changed. Perhaps from the moment he'd saved her from those drunks at that bar in Washington, after four years of radio silence.

"What did he say, Ronnie?" he asked. "I need to know. I'm literally dying."

Tears began to prick at Ronnie's eyes, making them shine in the fluorescent hospital lighting, and the pinky left her mouth. This time, her voice was stronger, if only by a little. "He said he was afraid of only one of us waking up," she said. "Because he didn't think either of us could live without the other."

Dean was quiet for a moment. He thought about how much he'd hated watching Ronnie flirt with or kiss guys in bars, how much he'd disliked Ian when he first realized he and Ronnie were together, how peaceful and whole he'd felt that night in Chicago when Ronnie had fallen asleep in his bed, her body against his, trusting in him absolutely and unthinkingly.

"He was right," she whispered, her voice interrupting his thoughts. "At least for me. Dean… I don't know how to live without you. I can't. I wouldn't know what to do, I wouldn't know who to be anymore. You're like... you're this part of me, and..."

He took another step towards her, the rapidly declining space between them silencing her. Her eyes were right there, in front of his own. They were a dark blue, almost navy, and filled with questions he imagined she was far too afraid to ask.

He felt his hand shake as he reached out to cup her face, holding it gently. She leaned into it, a tear falling. How come they were reacting to these emotions, these feelings, these desires when their bodies were beaten and broken and useless in hospital beds? How could every atom of his being be buzzing right now when every atom of his being wasn't even in this room?

The questions in his mind were replaced with a shocking wave of elation when Ronnie's hand curled around his wrist, holding his hand to her face. Each finger felt like pure electricity on his skin. He took this as his final green light, and closed the rest of the space between them.

He could hear her breath. Feel it on his neck. And when he leaned to put his mouth to her ear, he could hear her heartbeat, pounding away relentlessly in a body that wasn't even a body, but a soul.

And he knew it was true, that he didn't think he could bear the world without her. That he wouldn't be the same, that'd he'd never recover.

"I don't think I ever wanted a proper, no-sex ice cream friend date with you," he admitted with the smallest, most humorless laugh, his words whispered into her ear, crossing a line he had never fathomed he would.

"Me neither," she breathed, looking almost surprised at herself.

He thought, based off the shock and hesitancy in her eyes, that that would be it. That she'd admit it, and then shut it down, try to jump back across the boundary they'd both just left in the dust.

But then something seemed to shift behind her eyes, and she reached for him and pulled him closer by the hem of his shirt, cautiously and experimentally, as if she was trying to give him an out, until their bodies were flush against each other.

There was an undeniable, hot fire beginning deep in his chest, and he couldn't refrain from acting upon it for a moment longer. He trailed his mouth from her ear to her jaw, trying not to make the sound he wanted to make when she released the shakiest breath from her mouth and the air hit his cheek. He kept his lips off of her, not wanting anything to go too fast, wanting to savor every millisecond of whatever fever dream he was living.

If touching her was a mistake, then he wanted to make it slowly.

Ronnie, however, didn't seem to have the patience that he did. She lifted her hands and placed them on either side of his face, reorienting themselves so that their foreheads pressed together, their lips floating just a few slivers of air apart.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

He closed his eyes, wanting to feel every moment of his forehead on hers, of her hands on his face, firm and gentle at the same time. His hands followed a similar rhythm, one feeling the softness of her hair as the other trailed down to her hip, trying to somehow pull her closer to him.

If this was dying, he decided he didn't mind it all too much.

He opened his mouth to respond. He didn't even know what he was going to say, but he knew what he wanted to say. I'm scared, too. But I want you. I need you. I—

But then Ronnie was gone.

He felt her disappear from underneath his hands, felt the pressure of her hands on his face lift, felt the air on his neck grow still and cool again. His eyes flew open to see nothing but the hospital wall in front of his eyes, just a sanitary white stretch of nothing.

"No," he said, panicked. "No, Ronnie, no." He turned, expecting Tessa to be standing in the room, hovering over Ronnie's body, ready to reap her soul.

But instead, he saw Ronnie's eyes flutter open and heard her heart monitor start to beat rapidly. Her breathing quickened, and she looked disoriented and confused, but before he or she could do anything, a nurse rushed into the room. "Oh, goodness, you're awake!" she exclaimed happily. "Your family will be so relieved. C'mon sweetie, let's check those vitals before we get a doctor in here."

Dean backed away from Ronnie's bed, feeling somehow extremely relieved and absolutely empty at the exact same time. "Good," he said stiffly, and he felt a strange stinging sensation in his eyes that he tried to blink away. "Good, good, that's good. You're gonna be okay, freckles. You're gonna be fine."

But he couldn't look at her for one second more. Instead, he turned and fled.

Sam sat in Dean's room, forlorn as he stared at his brother's body, the hopelessness beginning to creep in. John was off doing god knew what, Dean and Ronnie were practically comatose, and Sam sat in the room with the knowledge that a reaper was after Dean and there was really nothing that he could do about it.

A knock came at the door. "Mr. McGillicutty?"

Sam lifted his heart to see the redheaded doctor from earlier. He straightened in his chair. "Yes?"

She grinned at him. "Your sister is awake," she told him.

He shot up to his feet, eyes wide. "What?"

"She's doing okay," the doctor continued. "Recovery will take a bit of time, especially for that broken leg. And she needs some rest. But her vitals look good and she's asked for you."

"Yeah," Sam said, his mind racing, relief coursing through his veins. "Okay, great, let's go."

He followed her down the hall and to Ronnie's room, and he couldn't help but break into a wide smile when he saw Ronnie sitting up in bed, bruised and bandaged and exhausted, but awake and holding a cup of water to her mouth with her one non-casted arm. "Hey, bud," he said as he walked in.

Her eyes fell on him and she grinned. "Sam!" she exclaimed, her voice scratchy but strong. "Oh thank god, you look like you're doing okay."

He wasn't. At least, not mentally. But he didn't say that.

"Where's Dean?" she asked him. "Where's John?"

He stared at her, confused. "I thought Dean was with you?"

"With me?" she asked. "What do you mean? With me in the car?"

"The car? No, on… on the other side. When you guys were stuck in between."

She gave him a look like he was crazy. "In between what?"

He blinked. "You don't remember."

"Remember what?" Her voice was starting to get a little more panicked now.

"Bud," Sam said, sitting by her bed. "What's the last thing you remember before waking up in this hospital bed?"

She stared down at her hands, eyes narrowed, clearly trying to think as hard as she could. "Um… I mean, I remember being in the back of the Impala with Dean. He wasn't doing so well, so you were driving us to a hospital… and then there was, like, this super bright light and the door crunching in and… that's it." She looked up at him. "Dean's probably so pissed about the Impala, isn't he?"

Sam felt his hopefulness slip away. Sure, it was incredible that Ronnie was awake. But she didn't remember anything about being in between with Dean. Which meant there was no way of giving Sam any kind of update on what had happened to him.

Ronnie clearly sensed something. She tried to sit up in bed, grunting with the effort of it. Sam shook his head, immediately putting a hand gently on her shoulder, guiding her back down. "Not worth it, bud, c'mon, lay back down."

"Where's Dean?" she asked, eyes big and apprehensive. When he didn't answer immediately, they narrowed, turning sharp and almost angry.

"Sam. Where's Dean?"

Dean sat in an empty hospital room and waited for death.

He could die now, he supposed. Sam and his dad were alive and well, and now Ronnie was, too. And while he didn't want to go, didn't want to leave his family behind to fight the battle they'd started, he also figured if anyone had to go he was glad it was him.

He heard the soft clearing of a throat, and looked up to see Tessa. No, the Reaper. She had big, blue eyes, and Dean's chest throbbed. They were lighter than Ronnie's eyes, a more electric blue than her dark, stormy blue. But either way, it caused him to think of her.

"What do you want?" Dean asked sharply, willing his thoughts away.

Tessa approached him. "I want you to move on, as nature intended, Dean. No more, no less."

He looked up, glaring at her. "I'm not going to just move on. Not when I have so much to lose if I don't fight to say."

"Are you talking about Veronica Halifax? Dean, you're not the only man to depart this world before something beautiful could take root. That is the consistent tragedy of death."

"It's not about her," he told her forcefully. "I mean, she's part of it, but… my family is in the middle of a war here. I can't leave them. Not yet."

"Dean, your death would be a valiant one. A warrior's death. That's more than so many others get."

He snorted. "Yeah, I'll pass on the seventy-two virgins, thanks though."

"That's funny," the reaper said with a grin. "You're cute."

That made Dean even angrier. "Look, I'm not going with you! My body is going to rot in the ground and my family isn't going to be far behind me."

The reaper looked at Dean, her eyes cool and tranquil. "Do you know how angry spirits are born, Dean Winchester?"

"Huh?"

"They refuse to leave," she continued. "They can't let go, and they can't move on. If you stay, Dean, that's your future. You're not helping anyone you love by staying. At the very least, you'll just hurt them more."

Dean stared at her, and she sat down next to him. He wasn't even surprised when she moved to tenderly stroke his hair. He closed his eyes and thought of Ronnie.

"Put the pain behind you," she coaxed.

"And go where?" he asked, feeling lost.

"Sorry," she said, and it sounded like she meant it. "But I can't tell you. Can't give away the big punchline. But this is the moment of truth, Dean. No changing your mind later. So what's it going to be?"

Dean didn't know what to do. He didn't want to give up, didn't want to leave. But he also couldn't fathom turning into the very monsters he'd been dedicating his life to hunting. What was he supposed to do?

He turned to Tessa, not sure himself what he was going to say, but it turned out that he didn't need to know.

Because the lights began to flicker, and a buzzing sound filled the room.

His eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

Tessa, however, looked flabbergasted. "I'm not doing anything."

The buzzing intensified, and Dean turned to the sound. He and Tessa both jumped to their feet as their eyes landed on a cloud of black smoke billowing out from the air vent. Every one of Dean's nerves was on fire. What did he do? How did he fight it? Why—

"No!" Tessa shouted all of a sudden, staring at the smoke. "You can't do this!"

"What?" Dean called out, confused.

"Get away!" Tessa demanded, the black smoke coming towards her, creeping up towards her face. "I said, get aw—"

And then she screamed as the black smoke — which Dean now knew had to be a demon — entered her body. Dean stared in horror, mind blank, not a thought in the world as to what he should do next.

But then Tessa went silent, and when she turned to Dean, her eyes glowed golden yellow. His heart thumped in disbelief.

A smirk touched her — its — lips. "It's your lucky day, kid."

Dean stood helplessly as the demon placed its hand on his head, and immediately, everything faded to black.

Ronnie sat in her hospital bed, annoyed, infuriated, worried, and frustrated.

She was annoyed that she was stuck here, bored, with nothing but sitcoms and her own brain to keep her company as Sam tried to deal with everything else around the hospital. She was infuriated because the doctor wouldn't let her leave, even in a wheelchair, saying that there were too many other tests to run before they could even think about moving her.

And she was worried, terrified even, about what Sam had said about Dean — that he was deep in a coma, with serious brain damage, and that it wasn't looking good. She couldn't think too hard about that. It was quite literally impossible for her to fathom a scenario in which Dean didn't make it back to the land of the living.

And she was frustrated. Because apparently, she'd been some sort of ghost, spirit-being, stuck in between with Dean, and she couldn't remember a single thing about it.

Despite the fact that everything hurt, she was feeling remarkably okay. Her leg ached a bit beneath its cast, as did her arm, and her head felt thick and full, and she was pretty sure that if she moved too quickly she'd bust some stitches somewhere on her body, but still, she felt good. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was properly hydrated again, but she didn't really know, and didn't care. All it meant was that she wanted up and out of the hospital ASAP.

She was just starting to wonder if maybe she could break out on her own when there came a knock on her door. She frowned, not wanting the nurse to come by again and keep prodding and poking her, but still called out, voice still a little weak, "Come in."

She fiddled with the loose piece of tape holding the IV needle into her hand as the door opened, and when she lifted her head to ask the doctor or nurse if she could get new tape her mouth dropped open. "Dean!"

Dean stood in front of her, looking like the absolute pinnacle of health, not a scrape on him, his eyes bright with amusement. "Hey, freckles," he said. "You look awful."

"Asshole," she grumbled reflexively. Then she just stared. "Dean...how are you…."

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. The doctor said it was nothing short of a miracle. But… I don't know."

She exhaled, every tightly wound muscle in her body finally relaxing, at least a little bit. "Well… it's really, really good to see you. And that you're okay. I thought that maybe…."

"Well, I'm fine," he said, cutting her off, pulling up a chair to her bedside, and sitting down in it. "And it's really good to see you are, too. Sounds like...like it was a close call."

Ronnie's brow furrowed. "Sam told me that we...were stuck somewhere? Like...on the other side?"

She could see her own frustration mirrored in his expression. "That's what he told me, too. But I don't remember anything."

"Me neither," she responded, unable to stop her disappointment. "I wish I could."

"Same," Dean nodded. "But let's be honest, it was probably just the two of us bickering until something finally pulled us back to the land of the living."

She smirked. "Yeah, you're probably right."

At that moment, she realized that Dean had two bowls in his hands, and she looked up at Dean. "What're those?"

"Huh?" Then he followed her gaze, and he lifted one of them up to her. "Oh, these. I don't know, the first thing I was craving after I woke up was ice cream. Figured I'd bring you a bowl and keep your bedridden self company."

She grinned. "Sounds like just what I need, honestly," she said. She moved to sit up, struggling with her cast-encased arm and bevy of wires and tubes that were still attached to her to monitor her vitals.

"No, stop, hold on, let me help you," he said, placing the bowls down on a table and jumping up to help her, placing a gentle hand on her back and grabbing a pillow she could use to prop herself. She supposed she should have felt a little bit embarrassed, and perhaps normally she would've, but she was still so damn happy to see Dean alive and well that she couldn't bring herself to care all that much.

"Thanks," she managed as Dean sat back down and handed her the bowl of ice cream. "So Sam and John are okay?"

"Seems like it," Dean responded. "But… I did have this really weird conversation with my dad, and he said…." He stopped for a moment, his eyes darkening, and Ronnie worried for a moment that he was going to be sick or something. But then he simply shook his head. "Well, it doesn't matter what he said, it just made me think that… I don't know, that another shoe's about to drop, you know?"

"Yeah," she said softly, taking a bite of her ice cream, and wondering why, in that moment, it was the best thing she'd ever tasted in her life. "It seems a bit too good to be true, the fact that we're all okay."

He nodded. "But we are. And we've gotta start figuring out what to do next, because something tells me that yellow eyed bastard's not gonna let us rest for long."

She didn't know what to say in response to that, so she just took another bite of ice cream. Maybe the demon wouldn't let them rest for long, but for now, they could. And laying here, just talking to Dean, basking in the reality that they had somehow all made it out alive, was exactly how she intended to do just that.

As if turned out, the yellow eyed demon offered them about ten full minutes of rest before a commotion started outside of Ronnie's room. Dean and Ronnie had been talking aimlessly about how they imagined their stint on the other side had been ("ten bucks says you tried to spy on a that hot doctor, Dean") when suddenly there were doctors and nurses running around, the phrase "code blue" being called out across the hall. And when they heard a room number being called, Dean straightened.

"What?" Ronnie asked.

"Dad's room," Dean said shortly. "I gotta go."

Before she could say a single thing, just as quickly as he'd come in, he was gone.

Ronnie suddenly wished she hadn't eaten so much ice cream, because her anxiety about what was happening and her inability to get up and go see for herself made her feel somewhat sick. She craned her neck as best as she could, trying to catch any snippets of conversation that might help her, but there was nothing going on outside her room anymore. Radio silence.

After another ten minutes or so, there was a knock at her door, and before she could say anything a familiar doctor with red hair game into the room, a grim look on her face. Ronnie felt her body nearly trembling with fear, like she just knew that whatever the doctor said, she was never going to be the same.

"Ms. McGillicutty," the doctor said, using the fake name John had apparently used for her insurance, under the guise that she was his daughter. "I'm really glad to see you're still doing okay. But I have some upsetting news." She paused. "Your father, Elroy, he went into cardiac arrest a few minutes ago. We're not sure why it happened yet, but we're imagining it was something residual from the crash."

Elroy. John. She blinked, uncomprehending. "Huh?"

"I'm so sorry, we did everything we could. But he's dead."

Dead?

No. No, there was no way.

But as the seconds ticked by and the doctor didn't amend her statement, the reality began to set in.

John Winchester was dead.

Dead.

And there went the other shoe.

Hope this one was at least somewhat worth the wait.

As always, thanks for the follows, and reviews, and favorites, and PMs. Your support is what pushes me to keep writing, so thanks!

Until next time.

~ Lacey :)