Author's note: I do not own anything having to do with Supernatural, only Leah belongs to me. Just a reminder SUPERNATURAL signifies a break in time. As always please remember to ~Read and Review~

As always a HUGE thank you to SPNxBookworm, this chapter was littered with mistakes until she went through and picked them out. :)

Hopefully, this will tie up some unanswered questions for everyone and the next chapter we will be back to a sacractic Leah.

Speaking of next chapter! The next episode is Mystery Spot but since this story is through Leah's point of view I can do one of two things. I can either do the chapter through Sam's point of view OR I can skip it all together and jump to Jus in Bello. You decide and let me know!

Hope you enjoy :)

Song: Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons

Chapter 52- Every Storm Runs Out of Rain

Everything ends eventually; night turns into day, the clouds run out of rain, and nightmares become distant memories. But here I am, left to suffer.

I wanted to know when my life got turned so upside down. Was it when I sealed my own fate and made the deal? Should I have gone to Stanford with Sam? Or was it as easy as simply choosing to walk down a different path. Maybe it was predetermined that this would be my sorry excuse for an existence. There was one point in time I believed that every person on earth had purpose even if it was for the most inconsequential reason; now I wasn't so sure. Was this my purpose in life? To get to the point that I was wondering why I was here in the first place? There came a time when even alcohol couldn't take away the pain anymore. Not that there was any pain left because now all I ever felt was numb. It became hard to tell which way was up when the world was pushing and pulling you in every direction threatening to break you into pieces.

And then there were the days that I'd push past it all.

I'd put on the façade of being okay so that the people around me wouldn't realize just how broken I was.

Being numb to the world around you, feeling nothing, is harder than struggling to breathe. To lack the emotion, to live but not exist…to be a walking, living, breathing lie…it's as though you're a shadow to yourself. You are unable to express, unable to attach, unable to feel. It's an excruciating emptiness that resides in your core - radiating throughout you like a cold darkness that turns you into a thin, yet durable, shell - waiting for the next thing to come along and try to break you. You begin to accept that you are only living half-alive but even then that seems too optimistic.

I'd pretend to be okay because when I felt nothing was when I existed as nothing; when I became nothing.

I'd pretend to be okay because at least then, I was something.

The images of blood plagued my every thought and though Dean had been watching me like a hawk ever since he found me with the knife in my hand, again, I had never felt so alone.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out to see a text from Becca. My eyes lazily scanned the words on the screen but I couldn't be bothered to actually read it or even reply. She was better off far away from me. Hell, she was the lucky one, I wish I could get away from myself too.

"Leah Marie!" Dean's voice almost echoed in the Impala and I turned my head to see him standing with my door open trying to get my attention.

I didn't bother trying to figure out how long he had been standing there, it was obviously quite awhile by the look on his face, and instead shifted my gaze to his green eyes. He tried to look annoyed, angry even, that I hadn't been listening to what he was saying but I could see the worry lines in the corner of his eyes looking like tiny crows feet.

Let him go. Tell him you're fine and just want to sleep in the car. There's a spare gun in the glove box he won't remember to take out. You can end it all right now.

"Hey," he waved an impatient hand in front of my face. "Are you even listening to me?" He sighed and pulled me out of the car by my arm. He shut the door and leaned me against the Impala. "Do you need some fresh air or something? Are the windows down just not getting enough oxygen to your brain?"

"I'm fine," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.

That's my good girl. Now get him to leave and you can come see me.

Dean snorted in disbelief and ran a tired hand over his face. "Hey, space cadet." He shook my shoulders slightly. "I asked if you saw where Sam went." I just stared at him in response. I couldn't even tell you where I was; how was I supposed to keep track of Sam too. "Of course you didn't," he mumbled, looking around the parking lot to see where Sam could have scurried off to.

He released his grip on me and started to walk towards the bar on the other side of the parking lot. Guess he thought our brother was there because it was either that or the nail salon. Somehow, I couldn't see Sam sitting and getting a pedicure but weirder things had happened.

Slip back in the car. Grab the gun and end it all.

Dean seemed to realize I wasn't following him and overdramatically sighed. "Well we don't have all day. Let's go!"

Stay here.

My hand was on the handle of the door ready to slide back into the car. What was there really left for me? Alcohol no longer fazed me, there were no more tears or anger, just an ever growing emptiness. My brother was treating me like the mental patient I was. He had taken away all my weapons and had been making all my decisions for me. He was trying, in his mind, to do what was best for me but it made me feel like less of a person. There were no decisions to be made, no easy ways to end it all. I was on autopilot and no matter what I tried to do, I couldn't turn it off. I was getting tired of everyone telling me what to do. My father wanted me to end it all - a choice I was starting to lean towards - while Dean watched me like a hawk and then there was Sam who was the worst of all because he wanted to talk about it.

"Well…" he questioned this time with a little less patience.

"I'll wait here," I answered just barely over a whisper.

Dean took a step closer and turned his head to the side a bit, clear that he hadn't heard what I had said. "What?"

Here's your chance. Make daddy proud.

I thought about what Ruby had said about her being human once. I thought about when I broke down in Dean's arms and begged him to make it all stop. I thought about all the times I had leaned on him over the years. I thought about my friends, the few I had, and how they would be so disappointed. But they didn't understand. My brothers never would. No one did. Forcing yourself to live was exhausting and I wasn't sure I had the strength to do it anymore.

"I'm going to wait here," I answered a little louder but with a slight waver in my voice. This was my chance, my one opportunity to make it all stop, I couldn't turn back now.

Dean stared at me for a moment before he finally gave a subtle nod. "Just don't go anywhere." He pulled the car keys from his pocket for emphasis. Not that it mattered. If I really wanted to leave, I could just have hotwired it. But that wasn't the kind of leaving I was planning to do. "I mean it Leah!"

I held up two fingers sarcastically, "Scouts honor."

I slid back into my seat and stared at the glove box. This was it. The voices would finally stop, my brothers would no longer have the burden of having to find a way to break my deal, and I, for once in my life, would be free.

Glancing once more toward the direction Dean had gone to make sure I was still alone, I reached across the front seat and popped open the glove compartment. There, in all its glory sitting on top of our box of fake ID's, was Dean's spare .45.

You know what to do. Take it.

I knew what was waiting for me on the other side. There would be an eternity of pain and torture but some sadistic part of me longed for it. The pain I would feel in the pit would be better than the numbness I felt when I was alive. I wondered briefly if the hellhounds would still come to collect my soul even though I was going to take my own life.

I took the gun in my hand and it felt as light as a feather. I knew the clip would be full, Dean never left it empty in case of an emergency, but I checked anyways. Fourteen bullets just sitting there waiting for their moment to shine but I'd only need one. My finger glided over the cool barrel and a ghost of a smile lingered on my lips.

That's it little girl. Come home to daddy.

The safety had been clicked off without a second thought and the barrel was against my temple with a steady hand. Now all I had to do was pull the trigger. I closed my eyes and just as I was about to curl my finger, my phone vibrated startling me.

It was in that moment that I was brought back to reality. I wasn't living in some alternate universe where all my problems could easily be solved by ending it all. I knew what was waiting for me on the other side but yet it almost seemed too abstract that there couldn't really be a burning fire in the pit eager to melt the skin from my bones.

I looked up in time to see both brothers running from the bar towards the parking lot. Quickly, I clicked the safety back on the gun and tossed it back into the glove box. I was worried for a second that they might have known what I was doing but as they got closer it was clear that something else was wrong.

You missed your chance.

Dean glanced at me in the back seat and the Impala roared to life with a quick flick of his wrist. Sam barely had his door closed as Dean peeled out of the parking lot and onto the road making the car fishtail.

Sam turned in his seat with a nervous expression on his face, "Bobby is in the hospital."

I nodded so he knew I had heard him and slouched down in my seat. I had been so close. Too close if you asked most. Worst of all, I didn't know how to feel about it all because that could have been the end. It should have been the end. Guess that was my Winchester luck though and I was left to suffer again.

Once we had been on the road for awhile and my father had resorted to whistling Johnny Cash, I remembered my phone vibrating earlier. I pulled it out wondering what had ruined my moment to see another text from Becca but this one I decided to read. This was the one that stopped me from pulling the trigger.

"Muse just came on the radio. Thought of you. Text me back bitch."

I never did like her. Friends get you killed.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket with a long sigh and rested my head against the window. He had been wrong. Becca had kept me alive but this time it was worse than if she had pulled the trigger herself.

SUPERNATURAL

"So, what's the diagnosis?" Sam asked the doctor as we stood around Bobby's hospital bed. He kept one of his hands on my back like he silently wanted to let me know I wasn't alone but it did little good.

Dean had been on edge ever since he had received the call and Sam wasn't any calmer. He had fidgeted in his seat the whole way to the hospital and I think it was the only time he actually told Dean to drive faster. I wish I could say that I was concerned about what sent Bobby, the man who avoided medical attention at all costs, to the hospital but I was too infuriated that I hadn't pulled the trigger.

The doctor's eyes flickered between the three of us and then to Bobby who looked no worse for the wear except that he wasn't awake. It was one of the few times I had seen him without a ratty old hat on. "We've tested everything we can think to test. He seems perfectly healthy."

"Except that he's comatose," Dean commented, clearly annoyed with the few answers we had been given.

The doctor didn't confirm nor deny Dean's statement though and instead decided to continue. "Mr. Snyderson, you're his emergency contact. Anything we should know? Any illnesses?"

I hadn't even realized Dean was Bobby's emergency contact. I wondered for a moment how many people had Dean listed as the person to call when you were unable to speak for yourself. I knew he was mine but I highly doubted a hellhound would call after shredding me to pieces.

Dean hardly needed to think about it, "No, he never gets sick. I mean, he doesn't even catch cold."

"Doctor, is there anything you can do?" Sam questioned hopefully as he moved his thumb on my back. Usually by now I would have had the doctor pinned against the wall and demanding answers but I couldn't find even a fiber in me that cared.

Maybe you and he can be bunk buddies.

"Look, I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it so we don't know how to treat it. He just…went to sleep and didn't wake up," the doctor answered with a sympathetic smile before leaving us alone in the room.

Dean started at the man we all considered our surrogate father and then without another word stalked away. Sam patted Bobby's sheet clad leg and led me out into the hallway where Dean was waiting for us.

"You alright?" Sam asked as he searched my face for any tells that I would be lying.

I slightly shrugged not really feeling anything about the situation at hand. "Is he going to die?" There was no worry or anxiety behind my question only pure curiosity.

The question made Dean glance over in my direction before sharing one of the millions of silent conversations he and Sam have had over the years. But they were easily ignored and for the first time in my life I was envious of Bobby Singer.

"He's not going to die," Dean finally spoke up with so much conviction that anyone who had heard would have no choice but to believe the words coming out of his mouth. I knew different though, the words of a Winchester were always twisted and molded to what suited them.

Make them hate you. It's easier to leave someone who hates you than someone who cares.

"Every living thing dies," I stated in a monotone voice. Except me that was, I was forced to wait until every single grain of sand fell excruciatingly slow to the bottom of the glass.

"Not Bobby," he all but roared in my face, "Not now."

He stormed down the hallway and Sam turned me around by my shoulder to look me directly in the eye. "Not you either."

It should have been a comfort but instead it felt like an insult. I moved away from him and started walking toward the exit. "I'm going to die, Sam, and there's nothing you or Dean can do about it."

SUPERNATURAL

The ride to the motel where Bobby had been staying was uncomfortable to say the least. It was unbelievable, the amount of friction that had settled between the three of us. Sam waited outside of the car with me while Dean went to get a key for the room Bobby had been staying in.

Told you. Lost your chance. You won't be left alone again unless you push them away. You could always just tell them about the conversations we are having. I'm sure they'd drop you off somewhere far away and then you'd be alone with me. You could finish what you've started.

"Hey," Sam tried to catch my line of sight and I blinked a few times as my eyes refocused. "You sure you're alright? It's okay to be upset…" He droned on about talking about your feelings and something that sounded straight from one of those self-help pamphlets they have sitting around the office of a therapist.

It wasn't exactly like I could answer him because how was I supposed to tell him that all I wanted to do was watch as every last drop of blood left my body until I was cold and dead. In my experience with my brothers dealing with suicidal thoughts or actions it wasn't in my best interest to open my mouth. Normally I would paint on my smile, make some sarcastic comment, and get on about our day. But that required more work than I had the energy for anymore and I was now just a shell of the girl I used to be.

I saw him whisper something to our brother as he came back and Dean motioned to the side door of the motel. We followed the long symmetrical corridor until we reached room twenty seven. Dean inserted the key and opened the door, scanning it quickly before allowing Sam and me to enter.

"So, what was Bobby doing in Pittsburgh?" Sam asked as he walked into the room. "I mean, he must have been working a job, right?"

I wandered over to a chair next to the small table and sat down. The room didn't look like anything special; there was a queen bed, a table, some chairs, a television that sat upon a dresser and two oversized paintings that were supposed to make the room look homey.

"Well, you think there'd be some sort of sign of something…anything," Dean observed as he and Sam walked around the room finding nothing but empty drawers and no sign that anyone had even been in the room. "Research, news clippings…or a frigging pizza box or a beer can." He then decided that he had enough of my 'attitude problem'. "You could be helping us look, you know."

Daddy's little girl must be so tired. Remembering to breathe can be such a daunting task.

"You're doing fine on your own," I muttered, pulling my legs underneath me and crossing my arms over my chest.

Sam gave him a pointed look as if proving a point before opening the closet and moving Bobby's clothes to the side. "How about this?"

Dean went to see what Sam had found and I just leaned over in my seat to get a better look. It was just like my dad used to do when on a hunt. There were numerous newspaper clippings, post-it notes, obituaries, and any other information they thought might be relevant to the case.

"Good old Bobby, always covering up his tracks," Dean shook his head.

Sam agreed and pulled one of the pages off the wall, "You make heads or tails of any of this?"

Dean read the page that was in his hand, "Silene capensis, which of course means absolutely nothing to me." He held up the page so I could see the picture of some plant. "That mean anything to you Miss Encyclopedia?"

"Nope."

He rolled his eyes as Sam pulled a long, skinny piece of paper off the wall. "Here, there's an obit. Dr. Walter Gregg, sixty four, university neurologist."

"How'd he bite it?" Dean questioned.

Sam skimmed the page again before giving us an uneasy expression, "Umm…actually, they don't know. They say he just went to sleep and didn't wake up."

Dean took the obituary from him and let out a deep breath, "That sound familiar to you?"

Don't even think about it. It's never that easy. You need to take your life in your own hands. Grab the scissors and cut your life line short.

I readjusted myself in the chair trying to subtly shake him out of my head. Going to sleep and never waking up sounded too cliché. If there was no pain, no blood, then how were you supposed to know it was real.

"Right, Le?" Sam's questioning stare broke me out of my thoughts and I slightly nodded.

Dean scoffed as he handed me a few of the pages they had taken off the wall. "Do you really agree with him or are you trying to hide the fact you weren't paying attention?" I could have come up with some lie if I cared but since I didn't, I read the pages in front of me. "Well?"

"I think I'd like to get my hands on some of this stuff," I commented quietly as I glanced at the page in front of me.

Dean growled in frustration as he motioned to the research Bobby had pinned to the wall, "Sam, stay here and see if you can make heads or tails of this."

"What're you going to do?" Sam asked before glancing over to me with those damn sad eyes. I was convinced he had some extra sympathy gene that skipped Dean and I.

Dean pulled the car keys out of his pocket, "We're going to go look into the good doctor ourselves."

"We?" I questioned, not in the mood to sit in the car with my powder keg of an older brother.

He smiled sarcastically, "Yup. We."

He can't trust you on your own. He sees the weak little girl you really are.

SUPERNATURAL

Dean had me change into our 'professional wear' because the FBI didn't have a jeans day apparently. He had grumbled and muttered choice phrases under his breath on the ride to Dr. Gregg's office. His overprotective streak had dwindled down to aggravation and impatience.

You're wearing him thin. A little longer and he'll turn you out. You ready? I'm waiting for you.

Of course his office was on the seventh floor and the elevator was out of service. By the time we got to the fifth floor he had slowed down a little and I couldn't help the pathetic chuckle that escaped. "Maybe you need to lay off the pie."

"Pfft," he rolled his eyes at my statement and picked up his pace again until he reached the door to the seventh floor before me. "See," he took a calculated breath so I wouldn't see him panting.

Dean ended up interrogating Dr. Gregg's lab assistant while I browsed through the doctor's day planner. There were very little entries in it. A few of the same initials popped up here and there like J.F. on Tuesdays and Thursdays and a M.P. on Wednesdays. I flipped to the most recent months to see that M.P. hadn't been written down for awhile but the J.F. had been a constant.

"Dr. Gregg studied sleeping disorders? Dreams?" Dean asked the woman and I saw her nod before I went back to rummaging through his desk.

There was nothing that could be considered helpful so I sat and let Dean finish his questioning. The woman was annoyingly short tempered and was getting under Dean's skin worse than I was because he finally spewed the line of bringing her down to the station to make it all official. Civilians were so easy to scare into telling the truth it was almost sad. She quickly rambled on about Dr. Gregg's experiments on his patients before adding that she knew nothing about it and that she had contacted a lawyer.

Dean and I walked out of the building with two huge boxes full of every piece of documentation he had on the experiments. Since my eldest brother was so bound and determined to prove he had not in fact eaten too much pie he carried both boxes down seven flights of stairs himself.

He walked over to a picnic table that was outside and heavily set the boxes down, "Alright, let's see what the good doc was up to. Start by figuring out what exactly he was doing to his patients and then we'll see if any of them are still in the area to question."

"I know how to work a case, Dean," I ripped the top off of one of the boxes as he opened the other and pulled a few folders out. "I'm sick and tired of you treating me like a fucking mental patient! I'm not incompetent, in fact, I know that I could do this without your help."

"You want to be treated like an adult then start acting like one," Dean snapped as he dropped the pile of research on the table in front of me. He then started walking toward a hot dog vendor to get away from me for a few minutes.

A thought occurred to me and I called over to him as he went to order food, "I do this and prove to you I can handle myself; I get my weapons back."

There's my little negotiator. Get your gun back and plaster your brains on the wall. Maybe use your knife to slice your veins open.

He scoffed and shook his head, "Says the girl who is somewhere else more than half the time. I swear if it wasn't an automatic response you'd forget to breathe."

That was the objective.

"I get my weapons back after we figure this out or I'm done," I gave him an ultimatum.

SUPERNATURAL

I had taken a Honda that was sitting nearby and drove over to the local university where one Dr. Gregg's patients were noted to live. Being on a college campus wasn't as fun as it would have been at one time. My heels made my presence known as I walked down the hallway to the last person Dr. Gregg had documented giving the silene capensis, African dream root, to.

I knocked on the door and impatiently waited for someone to answer the door. The sooner we got this case done, the sooner I'd get my own gun back, and the sooner this could all be over. The sooner I'd be over.

A guy opened the door and I flashed my badge that said I was with the police department. Before I could even ask if I had the right room, he quickly went on the defense. "Look, I don't know what the RA said, but, uh, I was growing ferns."

"I don't care about what you are or were growing," I stated and motioned to the folder I had tucked under my arm. "I want to talk to you about Dr. Gregg's sleep study. You are Jeremy Frost, are you not?"

He visibly relaxed, "Yeah. Dr. Gregg just died, right?"

"Well, I don't think he's taking an extended nap," came my sarcastic reply. This was taking too long. I just needed answers. I needed to finish this case. "You were one of his test subjects, right?"

Jeremy nodded and opened the small refrigerator pulling two beers out. He held one out to me, "Unless you're on duty or whatever?"

I should have remained professional but what my brothers didn't know wouldn't kill them.

Though it could kill you and after all that's what we're trying to accomplish, isn't it?

I twisted the top off and took a hearty mouthful letting the liquid slide down my throat. Of course I could have been drinking water and it would have had the same affect.

"Now, Dr. Gregg was testing treatments for a, Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome?" I double checked my notes in the file and returned my attention to Jeremy. "Which means you can't dream, right?"

He took another swing from his beer as he nodded. "I had this bike accident when I was a kid and banged my head pretty good and I haven't had a dream since. Till the study. You know. Sort of."

Well, that was helpful. I tipped my head back and finished my beer with one long, thirst-driven, gulp. Setting the empty bottle on his table, I continued my questioning, "What did Dr. Gregg give you?"

"It's this yellow tea. It…it smelled awful, tasted worse," he made a sour face and shook his head.

"Uh-huh," I mumbled, scanning my notes for this tea he was talking about and when I got to the third page, I found a recipe of sorts. "And what did this tea do?"

"Just passed right out. And uh, I had the most vivid, super-intense dream. Like a bad acid trip, you know?"

I shook my head in the negative, "Acid was more my eldest brothers experimentation drug of choice. Anyways, anything else you can tell me concerning the doctor or the sleep study?"

"That was it. I dropped out of the study right after that. I didn't…like it. To tell you the truth…it kind of scared me."

Can you imagine that? A civilian terrified of the supernatural. I borrowed a pen from cup he had on the table and put a check mark next to him name along with the little information he had given me.

"Now, about those ferns you were growing…"

SUPERNATURAL

The plan was to meet back at the motel after we had finished but I made a quick stop at the local gas station to purchase rolling papers. The lanky teenager behind the counter counted the few bills I threw down and handed me the small pack. Making my way back outside I sat in the small Honda that I had been using to get around. My hands made quick work of filling the folder paper with the marijuana before skillfully rolling it. I tested both ends of the joint to see which I could get a better pull out of and when I found it I lit the other end. The first pull was short just to make sure the paper stayed lit but the next inhale was deep.

I slouched down in the seat and lazily hit the button to turn on the radio so that it played softly in the background. I watched as the paper turned a bright red as I took another hit, the smoke dancing around in the air in front of my face. It was free to do what it wanted with no restrictions or care. As I exhaled I blew it away and just like that it was gone, something so simple yet so intricate. The joint burned down slowly as I smoked it clearing my mind for the first time in months.

My father's voice had been muted, my desire to end it all hung in the shadows of my mind, but I was content. The song on the radio changed to something too upbeat for my mood and I scanned the channels looking for something more thought provoking. I gave up on my search and took another pull, this time more aware of what I was doing. Every time I took a hit the joint got smaller just like every time the sun set I got one step closer to the gates of hell.

It seemed like the right decision at the time. Sam, as well as Dean's, life was more important than my own and I suppose if I had to I'd do it all again. After all, they were the ones that needed to go on. My father had left behind a legacy that went along with the Winchester name. Dean definitely had the brawn while Sam had the brains, there was nothing the two of them couldn't do, and then there was me.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks; maybe I was only ever meant to be here so Sam could survive. It was my destiny to make the deal to save Sam like it had been my father's to save Dean.

In my silence a line from the song playing on the radio stood out and I couldn't help but scoff. "I'm bleeding out for you," the man in the song sang and I had to bite the side of my cheek to keep the tears in. Here I was ready to bleed out, let every ounce of emotion, pain, tears, happiness - my entire existence- just burn away like the paper from the joint so that they could live.

The side of my fingers began to feel as if they were burning and I looked down to see I had smoked the joint down. I puffed the last little bit, holding the paper between my fingernails, before rolling my window down and flicking it out onto the pavement. An elderly couple caught my eye as they walked into the convenient store hand in hand. I wondered if they had grandchildren, if they had family barbeques and played Bridge on Thursday nights. Did they go to church every Sunday? Had they been high school sweethearts or did they find each other later in life? Either way they had two things I never would; someone by their side and time.

"Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep. Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep."

The ringing of my phone brought me out of my thoughts and I answered it with a groan, "What?"

"Am I interrupting something?" Sam's voice came through the speaker of my phone as I contemplated rolling another joint. It had been nice to silence the voices even if it was for a little while and I wasn't sure if I was ready to give it up yet. "Le?"

"No. What's up?"

"When you're done meet us at the hospital instead of the motel room."

"Okay."

"And Le?" I hummed a response as I stuffed the rest of the marijuana into the inside pocket of my purse. "We're going to get to the bottom of this. Bobby'll be alright, you'll see."

"Mm-hmm," I answered for his benefit before ending the call.

The ride to the hospital was shorter than I would have liked but I was happy to see that at least the elevator was working. I was still in my 'professional wear' when I walked into the room and my heels gave me away.

"Well, considering what you told me about the doc's experiments, Bobby's wall is starting to make a hell of a lot more sense," I caught what Sam was explaining to Dean and he offered me a small smile as I sat on the heater. "This plant, Silene capensis, is also known as African Dream Root. It's been used by shaman and medicine men for centuries. If you believe the legends, it's used for dream walking. I mean, entering another person's dreams, poking around in their heads. But dream walking is just the tip of the iceberg."

"What do you mean?" Dean questioned from his spot next to Bobby's bed like he was keeping watch.

Sam flipped through a few pages he had in his hand, "I mean this Dream Root is some serious mojo. You take enough of it, with practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger. You can control anything. You could turn bad dreams good, you could turn good dreams bad."

"You can kill people in their sleep," it all clicked into place and I realized I said it out loud when both brothers turned their attention to me.

Now isn't that an interesting piece of information. Makes you want to take a nap, doesn't it?

Sam shifted on his feet, "So let's say uh, let's say this doc was testing this stuff on his patients, Tim Leary-style."

"Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit, he goes nighty-night," Dean finished his thought.

"I don't mean to break up some big train of thought between you two but if that was true, then wouldn't Bobby be dead?" I pointed out, poking holes in their theories because nothing was ever as easy as falling asleep and never waking up.

"I don't know," Dean replied softly. Great, don't go getting all depressed on me. That was my job. I was the one that wanted to die on my own terms. "So how do we find our homicidal sandman?"

"It could be anyone," Sam replied, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Maybe one of his test subjects or something?"

"His research was pretty sketchy. I mean I don't know how many subjects he had, or who all of them were," I spoke up and then glared at Dean. "Unless I missed something because I don't know how to work a case."

"Then maybe you should have Sam take a look at it," Dean quipped.

Sam looked between us, "Did I miss something?"

"No," we answered together and I thought about the marijuana I still had in my purse. Now would have been a good time to smoke another joint.

"Uh-huh," Sam muttered. "Alright, so any other case what would we do right now?"

Dean held his hand out in my direction, putting the spotlight on me for an answer. I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know. I guess we'd call Bobby."

"You're a genius," Dean got out of his chair with a huge grin on his face. "Let's go talk to him."

Sam opened his mouth and closed it probably thinking he had two siblings that could use a padded room, "I think we'd find the conversation a little one sided." He motioned to the bed where Bobby laid unconscious.

"Not if we're tripping on some Dream Root," Dean replied, slapping his hand against the page Sam had on Bobby's bedside table. "We could do a little dream weaving ourselves."

"You wanna go dream walking inside Bobby's head?" Sam repeated slowly and Dean nodded, "We have no idea what's crawling around in there."

"How bad can it be?" Dean brushed the concern off and started thumbing through the pages to see if he could find the recipe.

"Well I'm sure he doesn't dream of 'Better Homes and Gardens'," I snapped.

Sam cleared his throat and quickly added, "One problem though. We're fresh out of African Dream Root, so unless you know someone who can score some…"

"Crap," Dean's shoulders slumped as he looked over to Sam's confused face. "Bela."

"Bela?!" Sam repeated incredulously. "Crap."

"I feel dirty just thinking about it…but yeah," Dean confirmed the inevitable.

SUPERNATURAL

I passed out on the bed back in the motel room while Sam checked and double checked the recipe. Dean continued to sort through the doctor's research claiming I might have missed something. By the time Bela had come and gone and the tea was being brewed.

"Good thing I didn't miss the party," I yawned and stretched my arms over my head, cracking both shoulders in the process.

Dean snorted, "You're not coming."

I got off the bed and crossed the room, "Excuse me?"

"You can't even keep your own head on straight I'm not about to let you go rooting around in Bobby's head."

My glare floated over to Sam waiting to hear what he had to say about the whole thing. "Besides we're going to need you to keep watch in case someone shows up while we're knocked out."

This is it. Our chance to be alone. You and me. We can end it right this time with no interruptions.

Sam brought two glasses of the tea over to the bed and handed one to Dean flashing me an apologetic smile. I just stared back at him, expressionless, as Dean swirled the tea around in the glass. "So, uh, should we dim the lights and synch up Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon?"

"Why?" Sam asked with his head titled to the side like a confused puppy dog.

Dean and I shared a look of disbelief as he shook his head, "Dude, what did you do during college?"

Without waiting for a response Dean went to take the tea like a shot but Sam's arm shot out and stopped him. "Wait, wait, wait. Phew. Can't forget this." He pulled out a small envelope from his front pocket and then divided its contents into the two glasses.

Dean peered into his glass, "What the hell is that?"

"Bobby's hair," Sam replied matter-of-factly and I thought Dean was going to hurl. "That's how you control whose dream you're entering. You got to drink some of their, uh…some of their body."

"That's just unsanitary," Dean shivered in disgust then added as an after thought. "Well, guess the hair of the dog is better than other parts of the body." He raised his glass to Sam and then to me with a smug smile that I was stuck behind. "Bottoms up."

"Yeah," Sam half-heartedly agreed, raising his glass to me and tossing the liquid back at the same time Dean did.

The second the last drop of the African dream root concoction had been swallowed both brothers fell onto their backs. I got out of my chair and cautiously walked over between the two beds to make sure they were really asleep. I didn't dare touch either of them though in fear of waking them up.

The storm in my mind was tearing me apart, threatening to drown me in the torrential downpours of doubt and self-loathing. The thunder cracked and resounded in my head as the lightening flashed. The turmoil had no end in sight but then there it was, shining in between the clouds, a simple sun beam like a spotlight on the safe in the corner of the room where I knew the Colt was being kept. My answer to every question I had. I didn't want to risk leaving the room to go out to the Impala for my .45 or any of the hundreds of knives that were packed away in the trunk. The Colt would do just fine, maybe even better. Maybe somehow it would kill any evil that was creeping through my mind.

Who was I kidding? Not even the Colt would be able to fix someone as damaged as I was. After checking again that they were indeed asleep I put my ear flush against the safe and turned the knob slowly waiting to hear the soft click letting me know I had hit the right number. I had just gotten the second number when Sam twitched in his sleep almost as if he had been hit across the face. I froze in my actions for a second and then turned the dial ever so slowly. The third, final, click of victory never came though and I wondered if it was some default or fate stepping in once more.

Can't even kill yourself right. Daddy's little disappointment.

My breathing became labored as my eyes searched the room for something, anything, I could use to release the build up of tension in my body. I knew Dean kept a knife in his boot but the risk of waking him was too high even if he was drugged at the moment. I thought about breaking a window or the mirror in the bathroom just to get a sharp piece of something but then there was the possibility of drawing unwanted attention to myself.

Told you. It's never just one cut. I knew you'd want more. You always do.

I found a pen that was lying on the table and pulled the cap off, working the little stick back and forth until it snapped off. I dug it into my skin and pulled back as hard as I could, desperate to see that little red line but it never came. It wasn't sharp enough and all I managed to do was take the first few layers of skin off making my arm red with irritation.

Just as I was about to search for something else both brothers shot up from their spots a little out of breath.

SUPERNATURAL

Dean basically ran down the hallway of the hospital to get to Bobby's room as I strolled behind pissed that I, once again, lost my opportunity. My father wasn't too pleased with me either. When I got into his room, I saw him sitting up in bed looking perfectly healthy.

"You alright, kid?" Bobby asked as I shuffled in and sat down in an empty chair.

I forced a smile, and it felt foreign on my lips, but I wouldn't break with Bobby either. "Fine."

Sam came into the room a few minutes behind us, "So, uh, stoner boy wasn't in his dorm. My guess is he's long gone by now."

"He ain't much of a stoner," Bobby disagreed and pulled out a file on him that Dean had brought to the hospital. If the marijuana in my pocket had any indication than he definitely was. "His name's Jeremy Frost. Full-on genius. Hundred-and-sixty IQ. Which is sayin' something considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head." He pulled out a copy of a driver's license and passed it to Sam. "Here's Father of the Year. He died before Jeremy was ten. Injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand. He hasn't dreamt since."

"How'd he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?" Dean questioned and I wondered what they saw in Bobby's head. What could be his worst nightmare?

Bobby's face fell a little like he was remembering the dream, "Hey, he was rooting around in my skull. God knows what he saw in there."

"Yeah, how'd he get in there in the first place? Isn't he supposed to have some of your hair, your DNA, or something?" Sam asked, moving so he could sit at the end of Bobby's bed while we had our little powwow.

Bobby let out a long sigh, "Yeah...before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it." He shook his head, "Dumbest friggin' thing."

Guess having a murderer after you works too. Still the same result.

I froze when I realized that I too had finished the beer he had offered me. My face must have screamed something was wrong because Dean picked up on it immediately, "What?"

"I…I don't know how dumb it was…" I bit my bottom lip and tried to look innocent.

The realization hit Sam first, "Leah, you didn't." I shrugged and he surprised me when he just about exploded. "That's great. Now he can come after either one of you!"

"Well, now we just have to find him first," Dean stood up from his chair ready to take on the world.

Bobby collected the papers that were on his tray table, "We better work fast and coffee up. Because the one thing we cannot do is fall asleep."

SUPERNATURAL

It had been two days.

Forty eight long hours later and we still had no idea where this Jeremy guy was. I was highly caffeinated, highly pissed off, and ready to pull my hair out.

They say lack of sleep is a form of torture. Wonder if you'll ever sleep in hell. Can you imagine being awake for eternity?

"No, no, no, no," I mumbled, shaking my head in the negative very fast. There was no way I'd be able to stay awake until the end of time. It was no wonder demons were so vicious, maybe if they slept once in awhile they'd be more manageable.

"You alright back there?" Sam turned in the front seat of the Impala and his brow furrowed with concern as my legs shook. He placed a hand on my knee, "Hey, we're going to find him, and then you can sleep for a week."

Or you could sleep forever. End it all. Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep my little girl.

"Stop it," I harshly whispered and Sam shared a look with Dean as his cell phone began to ring.

"Tell me you got something!" Dean demanded as he answered the phone.

Sam returned his hand to my knee, rubbing small circles with his thumb. "You're going to be fine."

Rock-a-bye baby on the tree tops when the wind blows the cradle will rock. When the bow breaks the cradle will fall and down will come baby cradle and all.

"No, he wasn't at the strip club!" Dean hollered.

I reached forward and snatched the phone out of Dean's hand, "Bobby? He is a human being. He can't vanish into thin air. FIND HIM!"

"Don't snap at me, girlie! I'm working my ass off here!" Bobby scolded me and I growled at him in response. Working his ass off, please, he was Bobby Singer and if he wanted to find someone he would do it. Maybe he wanted me to suffer. Maybe this was all just some elaborate plan to see how long it took me to crack.

"What does Bela have?" I asked, hopefully. I mean the bitch was helping us out for some reason might as well use her.

There was some chatter on the other end that I couldn't make out before he came back on the line, "She's got nothing."

"Fucking awesome," I replied before rolling down the back window and chucking the phone out into the night. "That's what I think of that!"

Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel, "That was my phone!"

"I don't care," I answered honestly as I slouched down in my seat. "You know, what? Fuck it. Fuck it all. Let him come get me. I'm done."

"Stop," Sam hit the side of my leg as Dean pulled the car off to the side of the road. "Stay awake we'll find him. We'll fix this somehow."

"Good," I nodded and patted his arm. "You fix. I'm going to sleep."

That fucking sasquatch pulled my damn hair like we were in kindergarten again! "Not alone you're not."

"Okay, first, OW!" I shouted at him and rubbed the side of my head. "Secondly, I don't think so. I don't need you strolling around in my head."

Dean grabbed one of the hairs from Sam, "Now this I can't wait to see."

SUPERNATURAL

I let out a blood cuddling scream as someone slapped me on the leg and as I caught my breath I saw Dean and Sam sitting in the front seat staring at me expectantly, "Fucking Christ, don't do that!" I looked around to see we were still parked in the middle of no where. "What're we still doing here?"

"I have no idea," Sam answered while Dean ran a hand over his face.

I opened my mouth to say something when I heard the faint sound of music playing. The car was off and my phone had been on vibrate. My brothers must have heard it too because they started looking around.

"Is that Bon Jovi?" Dean questioned, tilting his head to the side as 'Livin' on a Prayer' played softly.

I got out of the car and nervously tried to see into the darkness, "Don't judge me monkey."

They followed suit and we all circled around to the front of the Impala. I jumped when a corner of the field lit up like someone had turned a spotlight on. Shit, I knew this was a bad idea to let these two idiots in my head.

"Hey," Dylan smiled as he got up from the table he had been sitting behind that was covered with multiple books and assorted papers. "I told you to go get a good night's sleep." I stood there like a deer in headlights, staring at him but unable to speak or move. Dean cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest imitating a body guard a little too well. "You don't have to worry about anything, lollipop, I'm going to save you."

I turned to face my brothers, "I've never had this dream before I don't even know what he is talking about." I turned back to Dylan before Sam could give me those damn sad eyes again. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Leah, I love you," he got down on one knee and I could just hear Dean's jaw dropping in shock.

"Get up," I pleaded with him but he kept his hand out that had a small black box resting on it. "Get up, get up, GET UP!" When he blew me a kiss I faced my brothers once more. "I don't want to get married, ever, why is this turning into a nightmare?!"

Sam and those damn dewy eyes could just hop right out of my head now. "Don't you look at me like that Samuel Winchester!" My vision blurred for a moment and when it refocused Dylan was gone and the music had stopped playing. "Where'd he go?"

"If he's lucky he ran to Mexico," Dean muttered under his breath.

"Guys," Sam got our attention and pointed off into the woods were Jeremy was watching us.

"Oh, you little fucking bastard," I declared loudly as I took off in a sprint after him. I did not just spend the last two days looking for him to have him pop up in my dreams. I weaved around tree trunks and hopped over rocks not bothering to see if my brothers were following me or not. My only thought was catching this fucker, killing him, and passing out. Just as my side started to cramp from the running, I noticed I was no longer in the middle of the woods but in a hallway with a forest wall paper. "Dean?...Sam?" I called out with no reply.

There was an open door at the end of the hallway and I silently cursed Dean for not giving me back my weapons yet. I had no choice but to check out the room and hope that Sam and Dean were having better luck than I was. When I got to the door I peered into the room and saw someone with their back to me sitting at a table flicking the light on and off.

"Jeremy?" I called out, making my presence known as I kept my eyes glued to the person's back in case they decided to make a move.

The person moved out of the shadows as they stood up and leaned against the desk, "Hey, little girl."

"Dad," I breathed out. This was unreal. This wasn't just some voice in my head that had been driving me insane. He stood in front of me like he had done so many times over the years I began to doubt it I was really dreaming or not.

"We need to talk."

I resorted right back to my younger years when he was about to give us some kind of instruction, "Yes, sir."

"I want you to tell me the truth, Leah," he crossed his legs at his ankles and glared at me with such intensity that I felt like I was in trouble. "You've been lying to me. You've been lying to yourself and I want the truth. Now!" His booming voice brought goose bumps to my skin and I swallowed my nerves. I had obviously done something to make him angry and I couldn't figure out what it was. When I didn't answer right away he pushed off the desk and took a step closer to me. "Tell me how dead you are inside. How worthless you feel. Tell me how you look into a mirror and hate what you see."

"Daddy, I don't know what you're talking about," I shook my head and bit my bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

He took another step closer but this time I took a step back afraid of letting him get too close, "Sure, you do. You sold your soul, little girl. You bought a one way ticket down to the pit and you're not even lifting a finger to stop it. Talk about low self-esteem. That's not the Winchester I raised you to be." He paused and his chocolate brown eyes glistened with a smile, "Then again, I guess it's not much of a life worth saving, now is it?" My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms, in hopes of waking myself up. This wasn't the conversation I wanted to have with my dad if I ever saw him again. "I mean, after all, you've got nothing outside of your brothers. You are nothing."

"That's not true," my voice came out shaky and unsure as I took a step back for every one that he took forward.

"No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream?" He kept walking closer to me, backing me into the corner of the room where I would be left defenseless. "I mean, the car? That's Dean's. Best friend? That's Sam. Your music? That's mine. Do you even have an original thought?" Tears rolled down my cheeks betraying me as I tried to keep them in and show him that I was still strong. "You can still hear my voice in your head, can't you? Clear as a bell. 'Square your shoulders, Leah', 'you're grip on your gun is too tight'."

"I can do better," I promised.

"Can you?" he asked as he sucked in air between his teeth and shook his head. "I don't think you can. Dean was my good little solider. Hell, Sam left and he still comes before you in my book but you'll still do whatever I ask because you love me for everything you hate me for. Daddy's little robot."

Tears blurred my vision as my breathing increased, "Don't say that. Please."

"I mean, I don't care whether you live or die so why should you?" he shrugged indifferently.

My vision tunneled, blood boiled, and all I saw was red as I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back with everything I had. "You were an obsessed bastard!" I swung my leg up and kicked him in the stomach. "I did everything, everything, you ever asked me to and it wasn't enough! I sold my soul, damned myself to eternity in hell, to save my brother and follow in your footsteps." I punched him in the jaw sending him stumbling back a few steps. "You were never there for us, for me! You're the one that let mom die! You're the one that pushed Sam out the door! You're the one that turned Dean into your blunt little instrument!" I grabbed the lamp off the table and hit him over the head with it. "I didn't deserve what you put on me!" I hit him one more time successfully knocking him out, "And I don't deserve to go to hell!"

My whole body shook with rage as I let the lamp fall from my hand with a thud. I didn't even have a second to think what to do next when my father's body shot straight up from the ground and his once chocolate brown eyes were as black as night. "You can't escape me, little girl. You're going to die. And this? This is what you're going to become!"

SUPERNATURAL

We hadn't discussed what had happened the night before and I was happy to keep it that way for awhile. I even managed to talk my brothers into letting me get my own room for the night so I could sleep in peace. They agreed but only after I promised to meet them as soon as I woke up.

I slipped the 'Daddy's little girl' charm off my necklace and threw it carelessly into the bottom of my toiletry bag. In a way it felt right just wearing my mom's wedding ring around my neck. There had been a weight lifted off my shoulders and I finally felt like I could breathe again. It was an indescribable feeling as I had hope swimming through my veins.

I met my brothers out in the parking lot and set my duffle in the trunk of the Impala. "Hey, Bobby get out okay?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "Though he warned to watch who you accept a beer from."

"Trust me, that's one lesson I won't need to learn again," I scuffed my shoe on the pavement, wondering if I really wanted the answer to my next question. "So, I was wondering. When you were in my head…what did you see?"

They shared yet another look and both shrugged as Sam answered, "Uh, just Jeremy. He kept me separated from you two…easier to beat my brains out that way, I guess."

Dean snorted a little laugh, "I was looking for Dylan."

"Dean!" I punched his arm for teasing me but it felt right, not to mention the smile that pulled at the corner of my lips. "That's not fair! I still say we should have gone in Dean's dreams instead."

"Why's that?" he questioned.

I looked at Sam and winked, "Because then we would have met some porn stars."

"You really think that's all I think about?" Dean pretended to be hurt by the accusation and playfully glared at Sam and me.

Without skipping a beat, we both nodded simultaneously, "Yup."

"What about you," Sam turned the attention back to me and I cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "What did you see?"

I thought about the conversation my father and I had and pushed it down. "Nothing. Was looking for you two the whole time. Trust me, I didn't want you rooting around in there any longer than you had to. I mean, Dean might have found out where Sadie and I took the Impala in high school."

Dean who had moved to close the trunk froze and quirked his head to the side, "You took what where?"

I chuckled and patted him on the arm as I looked over to Sam, "See, told you he'd fall for it."

"That's not funny," he grumbled, slamming the trunk and moving around the side of the car to open his door.

I slid into the backseat and added as an afterthought, "No, you're right. I was just kidding. Sadie and I never took the Impala…Now, Kate and I did borrow your leather jacket but that's another story entirely."

Sam joined in on my laughter and it felt like old times. Dean muttered something under his breath as he started the car and backed out of the parking spot. Much to Sam's feign annoyance, Dean and I sang along to every song on his Motorhead cassette. I used a water bottle as my microphone as Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, both of us nodding along and singing at the top of our lungs. The second the last song ended, Sam quickly ejected the cassette and turned the radio off mumbling something about silence being golden.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and opened the last text Becca had sent me. The one that saved me from making a mistake I'd never be able to take back. I saved it to remind myself that I'd once again beaten death when it threatened to pull me under. Then I replied with a simple text saying thank you. I got about five texts in a row from her; one saying I was a bitch for not answering sooner, a random one about her missing her shoes, and then after I didn't reply she questioned what I was thanking her for. I'd never be able to explain to her that she had saved my life but I would always be grateful.

"Hey, guys," I cleared my throat to get their attention and I wasn't sure how to say what I wanted to. When I paused, waiting to hear my father's belittling voice, I was met with silence.

Sam turned in his seat with a look of concern etched into his features, "What's going on?"

I swallowed down my guilt as I played with the corner of my shirt. "I've been doing some thinking, and…well," I took a deep breath and saw Dean glance back at me in the rearview mirror, the same worry lines creasing the corners of his eyes. "The thing is…I don't want to die." I wrung my hands nervously almost afraid of what their reactions would be because saving me meant risking their own lives. "I don't want to go to hell."

"Hey," Sam rested his hand on my knee to get my attention and when I slowly raised my eyes to meet his, I was genuinely surprised to see him smiling. "We'll find a way to save you."

"Okay, good," I bit my bottom lip, showing how nervous I really was, but decided to lighten up the moment a little because there had been too much darkness recently. "I don't think they make a high enough SPF for hell."

"You wouldn't need it anyways," Dean commented with smirk in place.

Sam chuckled and flicked my nose, "Yeah…freckles."

The old nickname should have bothered me, and I rolled my eyes for his benefit, but I couldn't help the warm feeling that filled me from within. We bickered a few minutes going back and forth calling each other names until Dean popped in a Black Sabbath cassette. Sam groaned and lightly hit his head against the back of his seat as Dean and I started singing along again.

It wasn't too late; this was my new beginning, the first time that I put myself before my family, and maybe…just maybe I'd get my happily ever after.

You can't escape me, little girl.

You're going to die.

And this? This is what you're going to become!

Then again, I was a Winchester.