Even though I'm somehow mysteriously free from hell, there's a very small part of me that's scared this wasn't really happening, that I'm not really free and this is nothing but yet another sick, cruel mind game thrown on me by my demonic acquaintances.
And yet it feels far too real to be a game, the feel of the sun bathing my skin, the warm yet quite cool breeze blowing through my long blonde locks, the various smells flooding into my nostrils just feeling one million percent real.
That's the real issue here, isn't it?. I shouldn't be free, shouldn't be feeling that sun and wind when I should be in the place I'd been destined to be, surrounded by so much blood and pain. I've never thought of myself as a bad person even though I haven't had the life of a normal thirty-year old woman, me and my two brothers having been raised to put a stop to all the things everyday folk think don't exist.
Our father was hardly dad of the year, more concerned with catching whatever it was that had took my mom away from us on that fateful night in November. Me and Dean were only four when it happened, Sammy just a baby. My earliest childhood memory is of my dad getting me and my twin brother out of our home which was somehow ablaze, Dean carrying our baby brother out. Hard as it is to believe, I still remember the heat, the smell, the smoke, still remember me holding onto my stuffed unicorn, not understanding what was going on, wondering why our mommy wasn't running out with us.
I'd grown up without a mother's love, the one person who should have been there to help when I blossomed into a young woman. What was even harder was having a father who was hardly in my life. And I should hate him for that. But I just couldn't find it in my heart to do anything else, but love him, to still miss him everyday, miss those very rare moments when he would do nothing other then hold me. It's been two years since his death and part of me was still angry at him for sacrificing himself to bring me and Dean back after the accident, selling his soul and the Colt in exchange for our lives.
Bobby had basically been my real dad, him more or less raising me and my brothers, teaching us more about the hunting life then dad ever did. And I'd wished on many occasions that he'd really been our dad. It was him who'd taught me how to use a gun properly, him who'd taught me Latin, him who'd been there more times then I can count when I'd ranted and raved at the world. And whenever I'd felt like giving up, it had been Bobby who'd convinced me not to give up.
How the hell am I gonna go about this?. It's taken every ounce of strength I have to make that decision to go to his place knowing exactly how he'd react. Trust me, I keep fearing that I'd see my eyes go black everytime I look at myself in a mirror. Luckily, I'd managed to find some form of transport, some old motorcycle not far from the gas station. It had either been left or abandoned altogether, the keys with it which had made me frown a little.
I'd found myself pining for that old Impala of my dad's that had been passed onto Dean, smiling a little remembering how much my twin loves that car or Baby as he's named it. My smile drops pretty fast remembering what had happened back at that gas station, that weird...force that had swept in, hitting me the glass of the windows shattering causing me to have to take shelter so as not to get impaled. Then there was something else, what sounded like a voice hidden within the high-pitched ringing, the words unclear to me.
It had stopped before I could make any sense of those words leaving me more then a little shaken, my heart in my throat instead of my chest. One thing's for sure, this is something none of us have seen before.
I try my best to hold back my tears pulling up outside Bobby's pretty ramshackle house remembering all the times me, Sam and Dean had been dumped on him by our dad. Seems like it hasn't changed not once in all these years apart from it looking more rundown. I kill the engine swinging my leg over the seat then getting up off the bike trying to control how heavy I seem to be breathing.
And again my hand moves over to my right shoulder, pressing my palm over the handshaped burn, my eyes sliding closed trying to think again of what the hell it could be. I open my eyes a few seconds later, dropping my hand making my way slowly to the front door, banging on it with my fist. A minute later, it opens, my eyes getting met with the blue eyes belonging to my second father. And as I was fully expecting, he looks shocked rigid, those eyes widening fast like saucers.
"Hey, Doc. S...surprise," I smile weakly, Bobby backing away from me a little.
"I...i don't..."
"Yeah, me neither. I know how it looks, believe me, but it's me. I'm back."
The next thing I know I'm being grabbed and yanked inside the house, ending up slammed against the nearest wall, a knife being thrust up against my throat making me whimper. And my eyes meet an identical pair of green orbs, his face not looking anywhere as shocked as Bobby's.
"Okay, you got ten seconds to tell us what the hell you are," Dean growls, pressing the blade a little harder into me.
"Dean, I'm...i'm not anything. I'm me."
"Like hell," Bobby snarls.
"Bobby. D, please, it's me. I love you, Doc, like a dad. Your name is Robert Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed. You're the one who taught me Latin. Dean, you're...you're my twin. My other half, my best friend. I love classic rock cause of you. You were with me holding my hand when I got my first tattoo. It's...It's me, you have to believe me, please," I whisper, closing my eyes, still feeling the knife at my throat.
Then I feel it cutting my skin making me hiss, my hiss turning into a sob knowing they wouldn't believe me. I hear the knife hit the floor, pressure being lifted off me making me open my eyes, tears streaming down my face.
And my cheeks get cupped in Dean's hands, his green eyes boring into my own seeing his own tears building up fast, some escaping running down his face.
"AJ?. It's...It's really you?," he whispers, running his thumbs along my cheekbones gently, me nodding at him.
And I end up wrapped up in his arms making me completely breaking down, burying my face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably, thanking God he'd believed me at last.