Disclaimer: I don't own anything, least of all The WB's Supernatural.
Author's Note: I decided to add a little more of Tessa in, so here's a chapter from her POV.
The room is thick with smoke and she struggles, moving through it in a tequila-induced haze, to make out the exit sign. It burns bright red light into her corneas and even though it makes no sound – and even if it did, certainly it would be indiscernible amid the noise of the crowded bar – she swears at it for humming so loudly. But still it beckons her on and she trudges toward the back hurling herself through the door the electric sign sits atop of.
Even though the sun has been down for several hours, the air remains hot and sticky and she cringes as sweat begins to run down her back. There are a few people milling around, most lean up against the rough brick wall laughing and talking with cigarettes pressed between their lips and vibes of desperation oozing from every pore. She turns away from them and retches, one hand pressed against the building for balance, the sharp bricks cutting into her palm. Then she stands, inhales sharply and makes her way around the side of the bar toward the beat up old pick up.
After what seems like a marathon journey of tripping and stumbling she grabs the handle and jerks the door open. Too fast, too hard, the metal slams into her face, opening the gash above her eye that had just begun to heal. "Damn it," She moans as she climbs inside the truck, careful not to do any further damage to herself, and lays down across the bench seat. The blood that collects over her eye, soaking through the thick gauze feels cool and refreshing and she lets out a slight drunken laugh because of it. Who would feel relieved to bleed? Clearly she was in a worse state than she had thought. Of course that thought only makes her laugh harder.
"Okay," she says to herself, putting an end to the giggles. "Okay," she repeats as she shoves a hand into her pocket, pulls out a small silver flip phone. She turns it on and watches as it comes to life, squints to read the too, too bright display, and begins looking through the contacts. "Tessa," she says, dragging her name out long and exaggerated as she reads it. And the button is pushed.
It rings twice before a familiar voice answers, hesitant. "Hello," he says.
"Hey," she lets out casually as though this were a simple how've you been call.
"Tessa?" The voice comes out strangled. What is it, excitement? Relief? Fear? She can't quite tell. Normally gauging her big brother's reactions is a piece of cake, but right now she's drunk, and more than that, she no longer trusts anything, not even her own instincts. "Tess," he says clearly, more sure of himself, "where are you?"
"Don't worry about it."
"What?" There are voices in the background, ones she can't quite make out. But when she closes her eyes she can almost see it all, see that the voices belong to her other brother and her father. She can see them both lunging at different times for the phone, Dean fighting them off and turning his back, trying to ignore their antics. She can actually feel him shaking his head in confusion. "Where are you?" he says again.
"Found my phone?"
"Yeah."
"I thought I told you never to answer my phone," she jokes. "Touching my things…tsk, tsk, tsk."
"Baby," he starts, then takes a deep breath, "what's going on?"
Her eyes shoot open and tears start to collect, form thick pools within her lids, and slowly, sloppily spill down her face. Baby. She must be in trouble. He must be worried. The last time he called her baby was a few years ago when she started choking on blood after being slammed into a wall by some poltergeist. The fear in his voice then…in his eyes…thank god, she thinks, I can't see him right now. She knew this would be hard, on all of them, but she hadn't thought through how hard it might be on her, to hurt the people she loved.
"Hey," she says, sniffling slightly, trying to sound at least somewhat upbeat so as to drown out the tears. "Remember when I used to sleepwalk?"
"Yeah," he says impatiently. Then, "Tessa – "
"No, wait, just listen. Remember how I said I didn't know why I did it? And I said I didn't dream or anything, and…you remember?"
"Yeah." She can hear her father clearly now, demanding that Dean hand him the phone. But he must be avoiding the man because her brother's breathing still echoes in her ear.
"I lied." Preparation can only get a person so far. She had rehearsed this conversation over and over again in her head, sometimes with Dean, sometimes with Sam. She had almost let it out several times over the last couple of years, but could never quite manage. "I heard her calling me," she says, closing her eyes once again, trying to imagine her family there in her hotel room, all together again, together without her.
"Who?"
"Mom." There is silence for a moment on the other end and she can't help but wonder if Dean's left the room, maybe locked himself in the bathroom or something just to get away from the other two men. But there isn't any pounding on a closed door or muffled yells as there almost certainly would be if that were the case. So they must have just calmed down. "She called out to me. And I know that sounds crazy, because really, how would I even know what her voice sounded like, right? But I knew it was her. She'd call me and I'd get up and go to her…to where I thought she was anyway. But I never saw her. I never got close enough, you know?"
"No baby, I don't know," he says softly, clearly trying to hide his frustration.
"I never got there," she says as she wipes away tears with the back of her hand. "I got close a couple of times, but I never quite made it. But the thing is, Dean…Dean?"
"I'm here."
"The thing is, the only times I…got close, when her voice got louder and it seemed like she'd be right there, if I just looked…the only times that happened was when I got hurt. When I fell in that pool, or when I fell off the balcony…remember?"
"I remember."
"It was like she was right there, like if only I had gone a little bit further…she was calling me you know? You understand?"
"Tess…"
"You don't," she says coldly. Her brain is muddled and she starts to think that maybe this wasn't the best time to try and explain this, after a liquor-filled night. The thought occurs to her that Dean's only seen her drunk once before. Does he know she is now? Can he recognize it? She tries to focus and sound as sober as possible, taking extra care not to inadvertently slur her words or say something too bizarre, or start crying, bawling like a little baby. "She called me, and I went, and I only got close to her when I got close to, I don't know, death, I guess." She pauses briefly. I guess? I know. "Death," she says again, more certain.
"Tess, that's crazy. Mom – " In the background she hears Sam say something, something about Mom.
"It's not crazy. She only did what was right. She knew."
"Knew what?" Her father's voice booms in the background, once again demanding the phone.
"That I didn't belong here, don't belong." No matter how many times she's heard it, said it to herself even, just thought it, you don't belong, it always manages to sting.
"Tessa?" She sits up sharply, so fast that the entire world starts to spin. Dad. He must have grabbed the phone away from Dean. Now her brother is the one cursing in the background. "Tessa?" she hears again. But one tortured family member is enough for one day and even if she didn't feel like she was about to vomit again, or like her head might actually, truly explode, she wouldn't be able to talk to him right now. So she flips the phone shut.
She sits for a moment and tries to regain her composure. After a couple of deep breaths the ground, or the truck at least, seems to be rather steady, no longer spinning wildly around her. The phone vibrates in her hand and the caller display comes up with her name. She doesn't turn the phone off, doesn't care enough to. She just tosses it into the glove box and listens as it bounces around inside the tiny compartment. Her eyes close and she leans forward, resting her head on the hard steering wheel. For a moment she feels relaxed, or as relaxed as she's been in the last couple of weeks anyway. And her body starts to let go of some tension, her mind starts to drift off…
Bang, bang, bang! She pulls herself upright and as if on cue every muscle tightens yet again. Always on alert, must always remain alert and ready. "Hey," he says through the glass, his hand still resting on the window. "Open up." She reaches down and unlocks the driver's side door, then scoots across the seat. He enters, pulls himself into the cab and gives her a curious look, reaches out and touches the wound above her eye, wipes away some blood. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she says, lying down again, feeling a heaviness creep into her body, reaching out into every limb, down to every finger and toe. She lays her head in his lap and closes her eyes as he gently strokes her sweaty hair. "I called them."
"That's good. They're probably really worried about you."
"They should be."
"Yeah," he says knowingly before changing the subject. "You're kind of plastered, huh?"
She snuggles closer to him and ignores his comment. "They're gonna find me, or try anyway. They won't give up."
"They know what they're in for? Or what might happen if they do?"
"Doesn't matter."
"It does matter, Tessa. If you want to do what's right here, you want to fix this…"
"I don't want them to think it's about me. It's not. Not really."
"Actually it kind of is. They won't let it happen, Tess."
"I know."
"If they track you down…"
"I know," she says louder, more forcefully. "But they'll try." She grabs his hand and pulls it close to her chest so that his arm is draped over her. "You're not the only crazy, overprotective man in my life you know," she says as she kisses his hand.
He waits until her breathing is deep and steady, a sure sign of sleep, something she hasn't gotten any of in days, and he moves his hand away from her, turns the key in the ignition, and drives off into the night.