Don't Pull This Thread
Summary: The boys leave Lexie to go on a hunt, and she has an unexpected visitor while they are gone. Zak makes his feelings known.
Warnings: sex talk, pranks, panic attack described, angst, stalking, torture/death of OMC, jealous Sam, Dean being a good bro.
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, OFC, other needed OC's.
Pairing: OFC x OMC, fluffy friendships (for now)
A/N: Happy birthday trucklady53 sorry it's such an angsty chapter for your birthday lol. Hope you enjoy anyway, thanks for the review.
Sam POV
I'm flat on my back, my arm around Lexie; her head rests on my chest, covering my tattoo. I'm halfway between sleep and waking, not ready to greet the day yet.
A moment later, the hunter in me kicks in, and I sense I'm being watched. I open my eyes, and Dean is standing against the door frame of Lexie's bedroom with a goofy grin on his face.
I faintly remember hearing a knock in my sleep, so he must have knocked on Lexie's door. When he didn't receive a reply, he obviously just let himself in. Seeing us snuggled up together, he couldn't resist the urge to stop and wait for us to wake to make fun of me.
Dean clearing his throat alerts Lexie to his presence, and she stirs beneath my arm. Dean smugly says, "aren't you two just the cutest."
"Shut up, Dean," I groan, sitting up and swinging my legs off the bed.
"Come on, kids; today's the big day!" Dean claps his hands, rubbing them together enthusiastically.
Lexie moans from behind me, "do I really have to do this?"
"Yes, this is going to be the highlight of my week," Dean tells her excitedly, "now get your ass up!"
Lexie follows Dean's eager stride down the sidewalk with a lot less enthusiasm. She seriously doesn't want to do this. The shop's sign comes into view, 'Marked Ones Tattoo Studio', and she turns on her heels to go in the opposite direction losing her courage.
"Nope, nope, nope." She manages three steps before I stop her.
"You have to do this," I tell her, using her shoulders to turn her around again.
"I don't want to," she whines, planting her feet.
Dean twists and walks back toward her. "Sweetheart, if you're going to be rolling with the Winchesters, this is the price. Think of it as a right of passage."
Lexie rolls her eyes, still pouting like a child. "It's going to hurt."
I chuckle at her side, "you've had broken ribs, but you can't handle a tattoo?"
"The ribs were unavoidable," she defends, "this is self-inflicted pain!"
"I promise it's not as bad as you think," I say, offering her my hand.
Lexie looks from my hand to my sincere smile; she's about to accept my hand when Dean flings her over his shoulder. "Suck it up, sweetheart."
"Sam," Lexie calls, dramatically reaching her hand out to me as Dean marches with her down the sidewalk and into the shop.
I belly laugh following them. This is going to be fun.
Dean sets Lexie on her feet in front of the counter, hands on her shoulders, holding her in place. "She wants a tattoo," he tells the pierced and tattooed lady behind the counter, "a bit of scriptwriting, saying 'The Winchester Wench', please."
Lexie shoots her elbow back swiftly, catching Dean's ribs, and he doubles over as the air leaves his lungs. We all dissolve into fits of laughter watching Dean gasp for breath.
"Ignore him," Lexie says, smiling sweetly. "I'd like this, please." She hands the pierced lady a picture of the same anti-possession tattoo Dean, and I have.
"No problem, come on back."
"I think you broke my hand!" Dean groans, shaking his hand a couple of times as he stands by the driver's door of the Impala.
Lexie made us both hold her hands while the very kind tattoo artist had inked the skin of her hip with her desired design. She snickers, "that's the least you deserve, Winchester."
Dean pulls her into a hug and ruffles her hair as he lets her go. "See you in a couple of days, short stuff," he says, sliding into the Impala.
Lexie isn't exactly short at five foot seven inches but she's short compared to his six-foot height, I guess.
"Okay, so now you know I'll still be me when you get back, and you can rest easy," Lexie jokes, looking at me.
"We'll be four days maximum," I assure her for the hundredth time, "and I can be back here in like two hours if you need anything."
"Sam, go. I'll be fine," she says, tiptoeing to wrap her arms around my neck.
I don't want to leave her. I tried to convince her to come with us, but she's scheduled to work at Mike's, and she doesn't want to let him down.
I engulf her in my arms and squeeze tightly. "Four days," I say more for my benefit than hers.
Lexie POV
I planned to leave the same night the Winchester's left. I was working my last shift at Mike's as I had promised, then I was hitting the road.
Sam almost kissing me after a recent pillow fight we had was enough to tell me I had let this go on long enough. We haven't discussed the almost kiss; there was nothing to say as far as I was concerned. It didn't happen, and it can't happen. I won't allow it.
We're getting too close, and that means I'm putting Sam at risk, as well as Dean.
My ribs haven't caused me any pain for three days, so I'm finally healed enough not to need Sam and Dean's protection. It's time to move on from this town; I stayed longer than I should have, got caught up living the Apple Pie life with Sam and Dean. I have to put a stop to it before it gets them hurt or worse.
Wyatt showed up halfway through what should have been my last shift; his first stop had been to Mike's bar, asking me if I wanted to pick up where we left off, and even though I had a pang of guilt because of Sam, I found myself saying yes. I figure I can have one more night with him and leave tomorrow morning.
Sam called me this morning and said they should be back by mid-afternoon tomorrow, so even spending tonight with Wyatt would give me a solid eight hours head start before they come back.
I haven't slept very well the last two nights. I woke up at every little noise outside, and my nightmares returned. I spent most of the night staring at my ceiling, thinking I would be able to sleep if Sam were beside me. The comfort of his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he found a deep slumber, was soothing. I had to settle for slipping into one of his shirts, it still held his scent, and that was enough to give me a few hours of much-needed sleep.
Bruno Mars - 24k Magic is on the radio in the kitchen, and I dance around giddily while I wait for the coffee machine to brew. The dancing and the coffee are an attempt to give me some energy before my date with Wyatt.
I pour myself a mug of the sweet black nectar and wiggle my hips on my way to the fridge to get the cream, crooning along with Bruno Mars.
A wolf-whistle stops me in my tracks. I freeze and look toward the sound to see Dean and Sam stood in the doorway to the kitchen. I wasn't expecting them to be back for another day, at least.
I remember I'm wearing Sam's shirt, two buttons fastened in the middle. I snatch the sides of the shirt together to hide my bare breasts, and I'm so thankful my friend is so tall otherwise, my ass would be hanging out too.
"Don't stop on our account," Dean says, wetting his lips and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"I wasn't expecting you back so soon," I say with a shy chuckle.
"Looks good on you," Dean approves, motioning toward Sam's shirt before he carries on toward the bedrooms.
Sam's eyes study me, the embarrassed tinge of my cheeks. My hair is down, and I've let the natural curls do their thing. My usual light make-up is a little heavier around my eyes but just enough to make the blue color pop; I've left everything else to be natural.
"It does look good on you," Sam agrees with his brother before following him to the bedroom.
Sam POV
An hour or so after we get back to Lexie's, I'm sitting at the kitchen table with Dean; he's digging into his double bacon cheeseburger and fries while I pick at a salad. I have a book in my hand, but I'm not focusing on it. I asked Lexie if she wanted to join us for dinner, but she told me she was going out.
I want to believe it's with girlfriends, but I know she has a date. The way she has done her makeup, her happy dance around the kitchen, along with her mood are all evidence of that.
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth when she enters. A white off-shoulder top has replaced my flannel, tucked into skin-tight black jeans to accentuate her flat stomach and is finished with black stilettos. She has her leather jacket draped over her arm and is too busy searching for her car keys to notice my ogling.
It's a simple outfit, but she looks terrific.
"Damn!" Dean gruffs when she turns to face us, a satisfied glint in her eyes as she holds up her elusive car keys.
"So I look alright?" she asks, spinning a complete three-sixty.
"You look amazing," Dean approves with a slight nod, "right, Sam?"
"Yeah," I agree, not taking my eyes off my book. If I look at her, she might see the jealousy in my eyes. On the drive back, all I thought about was sitting on the couch with her next to me, watching a movie before climbing into bed together. Now she'll be climbing into bed with someone else, and I'm jealous of whoever he is. I won't be able to keep that emotion from my face.
"Okay. Well, don't wait up," she quips, heading for the door.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean says, standing in her path to stop her hasty escape, "who's the lucky guy? How did you meet him? Where's he taking you?"
"Wyatt's back in town, and with any luck, we'll be going straight to bed." She winks, a mischievous grin on her face.
"Yes, girl, go get you some!" Dean grunts, throwing her a quick high-five. "And remember, wrap it before you tap it!"
Lexie slaps his arm with a good-natured laugh before planting a quick goodbye kiss on his cheek. "Don't wait up," she says again, placing a kiss on my hair.
"Hey, hey." Dean swats her hand away as she steals a fry from his plate on her way out the door.
The front door closes, and I give up trying to pretend I'm interested in the book or the salad.
"Should I not have encouraged that?" Dean asks, looking at my obviously pissed-off expression.
"What? No, no. It's fine."
"Really? Cause your face says differently."
"I just don't think with everything that's going on that it's a good idea for her to be out with some guy she hardly knows." It's a half-truth, and it isn't quite as convincing as I hoped.
Dean nods with disbelief chewing a handful of fries. "Sure, sure. So it's got nothing to do with all the time you've been spending together, the sideways glances when you think she's not looking. Sleeping in the same bed every night. Or the lustful sparkle in your eyes when you saw her in your shirt?"
"Drop it, Dean."
"Okay, okay," Dean sighs defeated, "but let me tell you, a girl like that isn't going to be available forever!"
Lexie races into the kitchen late afternoon the next day. I guess she spent longer with Wyatt than she anticipated because she tells us she's going to be late for work and needs to shower and change.
I'm at the table in full-on research mode, looking for a case, looking for anything to keep my mind from thinking about Lexie in bed with Wyatt. Dean's leaning against the fridge reading a book, and I know from the glint in his eye I'm not going to like the conversation they are about to have.
"You little minx, it's four in the afternoon," Dean states the obvious. "Have you been with him this whole time?"
Lexie teases, a grin on her lips, "what can I say? I'm that good. He wanted a repeat performance this morning."
She's too occupied making herself a coffee, so she doesn't see my jaw flex, but I'm surprised she doesn't hear the snap of my flexing muscle. I focus on my laptop, writing notes on the pad beside it. If I grind the pen to the paper any harder, it's going to rip the page.
Dean pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, returning her teasing grin. Lexie points a knowing finger at him as his eyes travel the length of her body. "Stop thinking about it!"
Dean's eyes widen, unfazed by her command, "I can't not think about it now!"
She bumps her hip into his, nudging him away from the fridge to get the cream. "You couldn't handle me, Winchester."
"You know, I don't doubt that." he agrees with a chuckle, joining me at the table.
"I need to shower before work."
"Yeah, go wash off all the dirty, dirty sex," Dean suggests earning a smack upside his head as she walks out.
Dean stares at me with the broadest smile on his face. He's so self-satisfied it's amusing, so I smile too with a warning. "She's going to kill you."
"But it will be worth it." Dean sighs, satisfied. He's barely finished his sentence when Lexie's scream pierces the air.
Dean made Lexie and me suffer through a Chucky movie a few nights before. Lexie had asked if we had ever come across an animated doll like Chucky. Dean told her we hadn't but not to rule it out. She had gulped with wide, frightened eyes and the prank flowered in his mind.
Lexie screams Dean's name as if it's a curse, and it's enough to make Dean bend over the table with a full-on belly laugh.
He hadn't needed to see her face when she saw the doll. The scream was enough to make the image of her face dropping and losing its color after she opened her bedroom door to find the creepy-looking doll sitting on her bed crystal clear.
His amusement is contagious, and I find myself laughing too.
Lexie's furious stomp alerts Dean to her march through the apartment. He jumps from his chair and crosses the room facing the door, arms up in a fighter's stance, ready to protect himself from whatever she is about to do. He's still laughing like a hyena.
She appears and launches the doll at him, but he manages to jump out of the way before it hits him. "Were you in on this?" she asks me, an accusing finger wiggling in my direction.
I shake my head and try to stifle my laugh but there's a humorous pull to my lips. "No, I promise. Though that scream was kinda funny."
Lexie squares her eyes at Dean. "This is war, Winchester."
Dean blows her a kiss as she turns on her heels and heads back to the bathroom. "She means that," I caution him, "when she's not running late, she will get you back."
Lexie POV
Sam and Dean are at the end of the bar in Mike's. The hunter in them always makes them sit in a position to see the entirety of their surroundings. They eye all the exits as soon as they enter a place, and ever so subtly, take note of every person entering and exiting.
I asked them to come and have dinner with me during my short thirty-minute break. I haven't had time to see them since they returned from the hunt, and I want to catch up with them.
As soon as I get the chance, I'm still leaving, but I need to do it without them knowing. So, for now, I'll keep playing the Apple Pie life.
It's a slow night, and we're waiting on the cook to make our dinner, so I stand cleaning already clean glasses while I talk to the boys. "How did the hunt go?"
"Nothing we couldn't handle," Sam smiles, "was almost too easy."
"What's a wendigo again?" I question with genuine curiosity.
Sam begins explaining about the lore, Dean adding comments or anecdotes where he feels it's needed. I'm so caught up in Sam's lesson and enthusiasm I don't notice Rachel until she touches my arm and Sam cuts his sentence off.
"Don't look now," she tells me, looking toward the door, "but Mr. Seven Times in one session just walked in."
I follow her eye line to the door and see Wyatt scanning the room for me.
Dean chokes on a mouthful of beer, spluttering, "Seven times?"
"Shut up!" I warn, plastering on a smile and smoothing down my already smooth t-shirt before walking around the bar.
"No way, I need to meet this adonis!" Dean smiles, turning in his seat to watch as I approach Wyatt.
The handsome soldier meets me a few feet from Sam and Dean, close enough for them to hear our conversation. Although he doesn't give me time to say a word, Wyatt's hands immediately go to my hips, and with a broad perfect white teeth smile, he pulls me against his lips.
I snake my arms around his neck and lose myself in him for a second, remembering our encounter last night and this morning. Dean clears his throat after a few minutes reminding me that we're in a room full of people. I groan audibly against Wyatt's mouth and reluctantly pull myself away from him.
I take Wyatt's hand and lead him to the boys, "Wyatt, this is Dean and Sam, my cousins."
Wyatt throws his hand toward Dean with a friendly smile, "Hey, nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you guys."
Sam POV
"Hey, nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you guys."
I fight the urge to scowl at Wyatt's words. It's bad enough I had to see her kiss him, but knowing that Lexie shared details and gave him a glimpse into her life, that she hadn't just used him as a warm body, a distraction, makes it harder to deal with.
Dean shakes Wyatt's hand, "Really? I've only heard seven things about you."
Lexie punches Dean in the arm as Wyatt looks to her for an explanation. She shakes her head, laughing, eyeing me to rescue her.
I stand from my chair, extending to my full height and puff out my chest a little as I extend my hand to Wyatt. "Nice to meet you." I shake his hand with fake enthusiasm and maybe a little more pressure than is needed.
If Lexie picks up on my attitude, she chooses not to comment. She turns her body slightly to face Wyatt, "I thought I wasn't seeing you until tomorrow?"
Wyatt's smile falters, and his tone is apologetic, "I'm sorry babe, I got a call, I'm heading out. You're my last goodbye on the way to the airport."
I don't even try to hide the happy smile that tugs on my lips until Dean elbows me in the gut. Lexie's disappointment is written all over her face, and I feel bad. He's obviously a good distraction for her.
"Rachel," Lexie calls to the waitress across the room, "you okay to cover me for a minute? I want to walk Wyatt to his car."
Rachel's smile is all-knowing, "sure, take your time."
I'm glad I don't get to see that goodbye.
Lexie's mood has dampened since Wyatt's departure a few hours before. Ealier she was content, satisfied, and even though I hate to admit it, she was happy. If only for a moment she had been happy, an afterglow of the sex, the endorphins still running through her bloodstream giving her a false sense of the emotion, but happy nonetheless.
Dean and Rachel have been flirting relentlessly for the last half-hour; it won't be long before they leave together. Which I'm thankful for; it means I'll have Lexie all to myself for the night.
"You okay?" I ask her, watching her wipe down the already clean bar.
She flashes me a quick smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, and then Dean is at my shoulder, "I'm out," he says, stealing a swig of my beer, "see you crazy kids tomorrow."
Lexie calls goodbye, telling him to have fun as he saunters across the bar toward Rache, who'sl waiting for him at the door. She's never watched him like that before, and I'm suddenly wondering if she's jealous of Dean with Rachel.
My panic is short-lived because as soon as the door closes behind them, she's laughing. Her laugh is so genuine and heartfelt, I don't know what the joke is, but I'm laughing with her when I ask, "what's so funny?"
"Just give it a minute." Lexie says, pointing toward the door, "three, two, one."
On cue, Dean bursts back into the bar. Sparkly, silver glitter covers his face, shoulders, and hair, and he spits some out of his mouth as his eyes find Lexie. That's all it takes to have Lexie and me in fits of hysterics, causing the other customers to look over and smile contagiously at seeing our joy.
The set of Dean's eyes is angry, but his tone was jovial, "glitter in the air vents. Really?"
"Really. You gorgeous glittery Princess." Lexie manages to huff out between fits of laughter.
Dean crosses the bar standing beside me. "You defiled Baby," he shakes his head slowly. There's a smirk on his mouth that I know means he's impressed with Lexie's prank.
"Dean you've got a little something your um…here, let me," I joke, dusting Dean's shoulder off, "never mind."
"Funny," he grins, "you get to come help me clean Baby." He doesn't wait for a response before marching out.
I roll my eyes but stand from my chair to go and assist my brother.
"See you at home," Lexie says, still chuckling.
Lexie POV.
I walk to my car yawning, thinking about crawling into my clean sheets and sleeping late tomorrow morning. Now that Sam is home, I hope he will share my bed again too. I know Sam wants to be more than friends, and maybe seeing me with Wyatt wasn't fair to him, but maybe it's what he needed to see to know we can only ever be friends. Sam is a bigger person than to let seeing Wyatt and me together make him petty, and if I ask, he'll share my bed.
My text alert goes off on my phone, and I fish it out of my bag as I reach my car. The unknown sender, with only a video attachment, makes my blood turn to ice. My hand freezes on the door handle to my car. A sheen of cold sweat breaks out on my forehead when I press the video icon.
The milliseconds it takes for the video to load gives me enough time to make me feel like I'm going to vomit.
Blood-curdling screams fill the empty parking lot. Wyatt comes into focus on my small phone screen. His arms are chained above his head, the only thing holding him upright. His face is bloody, his torso littered with wounds, burns, chunks of flesh missing.
The torture continues for a few minutes; knives plunged into him, hot metal sizzles against his skin, his screams become more strangled, and blood gurgles in his mouth. I pray he will pass out, but he's a soldier, he's built for this kind of thing, he's trained to withstand torture. Zak's sudden appearance on screen makes me yelp in surprise, and I almost drop my phone.
Zak's smiling face blocks my view of Wyatt but his screams continue in the background. "You're mine, baby. When will you learn?"
Wyatt issues another howl of pain, and I know it's his last.
The video cuts to a new image. Sam and Dean leaving Mike's, the shimmer of glitter in Dean's hair under the floodlights pulls my focus back to my surroundings. The video fades to black, and I'm peeling out of the parking lot, and I don't even remember getting in my car.
I explode into the apartment to find Dean and Sam standing at the end of the hallway, staring at me like I'm on fire. When I pulled up on the drive, I knocked over the trash cans; they must have heard it.
I drop my phone as Sam says my name. A sledgehammer of despair, terror, and relief hits me in my chest, and I can't breathe. I bend at the waist, hands on my knees as all the oxygen is sucked from my lungs.
Sam takes a step toward me asking, what's wrong; before his heel hits the floor, I'm running the short distance and launch myself into the air. I painfully crash into him, arms around his neck, legs wrapped bruisingly around his hips. I bury my head in the crook of his neck and shoulders.
Sam braces himself with one hand against the wall to stop himself from falling, then wraps his arms around my waist, hoisting me further up his body so he can support me better.
"Lexie," he panics, "you're shaking; what's wrong?"
I can't talk because I can't find the air. Sam tries to pry me forward to look at me, but I tighten my grip, almost choking him.
I gasp to fill my lungs, and the shallow breath I manage is painful and doesn't give me enough air. I look up when Dean says my name; I have to check he's there too. His face is contorted into an expression of worry, and my vision blurs as he begins to shake. I momentarily think it's an earthquake until my brain registers that it's me shaking.
I attempt to suck in air, struggling to fill my lungs with the oxygen they crave. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as it pounds in my chest, threatening to break my newly healed ribs.
Sam rubs my back, telling me to breathe. "Dean, I think she's having a panic attack," he worries.
It's more than a panic attack. I'm petrified, guilt-ridden, relieved. White-hot anger coursing through me at my stupidity for being with Wyatt. I feel like I could tear the building down with my bare hands, reduce it to ash in a matter of seconds if only I could remember how to respire.
The sorrow I feel constricts my throat. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to tell Sam to tell me everything's okay, that he's okay, that this isn't a dream, he's truly there, but I can't do any of it. My mind is still on the dark path of believing Zak had taken Dean and Sam, and the terror I feel is so overwhelming I don't think I will ever know what it feels like not to be afraid.
"Lexie, look at me," Sam pleads, his voice breaking. "Look at me."
Sam wants me to focus on him, focus on anything other than the utter dread I feel, but I can't move. I'm wrapped so tightly around him, so rigid in his arms I'm worried if I let go, I'll wake from a dream, and he won't be there.
I register muffled voices, but my lack of air is making everything fuzzy, and in my current state, they may as well be speaking an alien language.
I feel the earthquake again, and I have enough brainpower left to comprehend Sam is carrying me somewhere. I bury my head further into his neck and wheeze desperately.
"Lexie, are you hurt? Please talk to me," Sam begs. "You're scaring me." He doesn't understand what's wrong; he can't help me if he doesn't know what's wrong. "Count to ten; breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth."
I know I'll pass out soon if I can't control myself and Sam's words do little to calm me because I don't understand his instructions; he's speaking gibberish again.
I feel Sam take a step up, and I'm not sure why until I hear the squeak of metal turning, and then cold water hits my back, shocking the breath back into me.
I straighten in Sam's arms, greedily sucking in the air now that I remember how to use my lungs. I don't loosen my grip when the initial shock of frigid water ebbs, and I return my head to the safety of Sam's shoulder. He pushes my back against the wall of the shower directly under the blast of cold water, ensuring it has the desired effect of making me breathe normally again.
Sam rests his forehead on my shoulder and waits. I feel the rise and fall of Sam's chest against mine and I copy his movements watching as the water soaks through his white t-shirt.
I'm unaware of time passing, and I don't know how long Sam holds me under the frigid blast, but my teeth start to chatter against his neck.
His lower body keeps me pressed against the wall as he slowly pulls back to look at me pushing wet hair out of my face. Cupping my face with his large hands, he searches my eyes for the reason for my avalanche of emotions.
I hold his gaze, consumed with relief that he's okay, that he's alive, and I'm guilt-ridden that I'm glad Zak took Wyatt and not Sam. I speak quietly, "Zak killed Wyatt."
Sam shuts off the water and carries me out of the shower, gently settling me on the counter beside the sink. I loosen my legs, and my muscles immediately ache from the released tension.
I keep my eyes on Sam; I don't even blink. Afraid that if I do, he will disappear. My teeth chatter involuntarily.
"I'll make some coffee," Dean announces, leaving us alone, not that I even knew he had been in the room.
Sam moves to follow him, but I grab his bicep before he takes half a step. I've let him go, but I'm not ready for him to be out of my eyesight. "I'm going to get some dry clothes. I'll be back, I promise."
My eyes or face must tell him that his promise isn't enough, so he takes my hand and leads me to my bedroom.
Sam guides me to sit on the edge of my bed and hands me a towel to dry my hair while he searches the draws to find me some dry clothes.
I strip down to my underwear while he's still searching. He turns around when he's found some warm and fluffy-looking pyjamas, but I shake my head. I step around him and walk to the chair in the corner of the room, keeping my back to him. I take off my wet bra and drop it on the floor, then pick up his flannel shirt from the chair where he threw it the night before.
I button it up slowly then feel his hands pull my hair from under the collar before placing a kiss on my head. I turn to him, and he cups my face in his hands, "I'm gonna change too. Will you be okay for a minute?"
I try to say yes but the words don't come out, so I just give a slight nod. He kisses my forehead then leaves to get clothes from his room.
I sit in the middle of the couch, legs crossed underneath me. The feel of Sam's shirt against my skin isn't enough to soothe me. I can still feel his kiss on my forehead and the sensation of his hands on my jaw but it still isn't enough to make me believe he is real. I need to be able to see him, to know he's alive.
Dean sits in the armchair beside the couch, staring anxiously at me while I stare at the still swirling liquid of the coffee he just handed me. Sam returns from changing into dry clothes, and my whole body relaxes when he sits down beside me.
He puts a large reassuring hand on my bare knee, and it's all I need to break down my walls and answer their unasked questions. "Zak sent me a video," I tell my coffee.
Dean's already retrieved my phone from where I dropped it in my hasty entrance. Sam passes it to me to unlock it then I hand it back to him. Dean leans in so they can watch it together. Every pain-filled scream that Wyatt emits makes me physically cringe, and silent hot tears roll down my face.
I know the exact moment they appear on screen because they shoot each other a concerned look. "I thought," I try to explain, but my voice breaks and a sob claims my words.
"You thought he'd taken us," Sam finishes for me.
All I can do is nod as chest-racking sobs threaten to plunge me into another panic attack. Sam pulls me into his lap and crushes me against his chest, which helps a little.
Part 4 - Monday 23rd August 2021