I pulled away to face the pain
I close my eyes and drift away
Over the fear
That I will never find a way
To heal my soul
And I will wander till the end of time
Torn away from you
…

Over my heart
I can't go on living this way
But I can't go back the way I came

Chained to this fear
That I will never find a way to heal my soul
And I will wander till the end of time
Half alive without you

…

Change
Open your eyes to the light
I denied it all so long
Oh, so long

Say goodbye
Goodbye

My heart is broken
Release me, I can't hold on
Deliver us
My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us from sorrows hold

Evanescence - My Heart Is Broken

Not long after Cas had left, I found myself back in the bedroom, curling up underneath the covers once again. I couldn't stay down there with Dean and Bobby. I couldn't pretend that I wasn't falling apart at the seams. I couldn't pretend that my brain was overloaded. And I couldn't stop thinking about the things Death had said. I assumed his words were meant to be taken as some sort of consolation. His strange way of attempting to bring solace.

It only made me feel worse.

He, more or less, said point-blank that this was my fault, but I already knew that. As if I needed a fucking cosmic being to remind me of that fact. As if I needed another voice's words repeating in my head. Whatever it was that spoke to me back in that prison, that booming voice, the one that told me to let him go - it wouldn't leave my mind either. The only difference was, that voice - the way it spoke...it gave me chills.

It felt like water was rising up around me rapidly, and there was nothing I could do to make it stop. But that was okay. I wanted to drown in it. I didn't deserve anything else.

For once in my life, I slept through the night with a blank mind, thanks to some sleeping pills. Downstairs, I heard Bobby and Dean talking, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. However, I could hear the clinking of pots and pans. I glanced over to the clock on the bedside table, reading that it was a little after seven at night. I'd lost so many hours, and I didn't even know it.

My hands laid on my ever-shrinking stomach and I quickly snapped them away, like it was a snake about to bite me. With a heavy sigh, I reached under the bed, my new hiding spot for the bottle of whiskey I took yesterday, and pulled it out, taking a long swig. Just as I tucked it back underneath the bed frame, there was a faint knock at the door. I debated pretending to be asleep, until the door opened and Dean peered in, seeing me wide awake.

"Hey," he smiled gently, making his way into the room with a bowl in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"Hi," I replied.

"Bobby made chicken soup," Dean explained, tentatively making his way over to the side of the bed. "I brought you some."

"Oh," I muttered, sitting up to take the bowl even though I wasn't hungry in the slightest. "Thanks."

Dean placed the bottle of water on the table beside the bed, looking down at me until I peered up at him. He looked at me with the most heartbroken eyes that I couldn't even keep my gaze on his. Dean tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, and I shut my eyes, fighting the tears away with everything in me, squeezing them even tighter when Dean leaned over placing a kiss on my forehead. I knew that was supposed to make me feel better, supposed to tell me he loved me. But I couldn't stop the incessant thoughts telling me that he blamed it all on me, that what happened was solely done because he was a good man and he didn't want to see me sad, no matter how he felt.

After a moment, Dean stood upright. I could feel his eyes on me, but couldn't force myself to look up at him. With the silence choking us, Dean finally moved away from the bed, heading towards the door again. I waited for him to leave before I put the bowl on the nightstand, pulling the bottle of sleeping pills out of the drawer. I poured out two, downing them with whiskey.

Before I knew it, I was out.

When my eyes opened, it was dusk. I was still groggy, but awake enough to look around the room. Someone had been in and taken the bowl of soup away. But other than that, I was alone. Once again, Dean hadn't slept in here. I couldn't blame him though. I understood. Not wanting to dwell on that much, I rolled back over and fell asleep again.

The next couple of days passed in the same way. I slept throughout most of it, waking up without a clue as to what time it was until Dean brought me dinner. I didn't eat it. We didn't say much to each other.

After another twenty-four hours of sporadic, groggy sleep, I woke up and glanced over at the clock. Seven. With a heavy sigh, I hiked myself up into a sitting position, waiting for Dean. Almost as if on cue, there was a knock on the door before it opened.

"Hi," I murmured as Dean entered, a plate of food in hand.

"Hey," he replied, making his way over to the bed. He turned on the lamp that sat on the bedside table before handing me the plate of food, standing there expectantly.

"What?" I asked, glancing up at him from the sandwich.

"Take a bite."

"Wh-"

"You haven't eaten in days, Tori," Dean said, worry covering his features, the bags under his eyes more prominent than ever.

"I-" I paused, stopping myself from spouting some bullshit lie. I sighed. "I'm just not hungry."

"You have to eat something."

"You shouldn't worry about me," I mumbled quietly.

"I shouldn't?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No."

"I have to."

"That's just it." I huffed sadly. "You're only doing it because you think you have to."

"Whoa, whoa," Dean began, eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"

"It's who you are," I continued. "But it's not right. Not when you must feel the way you do."

"Look, Tori," Dean started, sadness covering his tone. He sat down in front of me on the bed, staring at the hardwood floor beneath his feet. "I-"

"You don't have to explain yourself," I interrupted, not wanting to hear him try to talk his way out of it. "I get it. I blame me, too."

Dean's head snapped up, tear-filled eyes locking onto mine. "What?"

"It's okay. I'm not mad at you for it," I explained.

"I- I don't blame you," Dean sputtered, much to my shock. "How- how could I?"

"How couldn't you?" I scoffed, my emotions beginning to bubble over. The tears I'd been trying to hold in now streaming down my cheeks with no intention of stopping. "I had one job, Dean, one! And I couldn't do it!"

"That's not true," Dean shook his head adamantly.

"I should be dead, and I'm not. Now because of that, he's gone."

"Death-"

"Was, what? Wrong?"

"He could be, yeah."

"Please, I think he knows what he's talking about, Dean."

"Alright, fine," Dean relented, knowing I was right about that. "Well, I've cheated death, too, Tori. I dragged you back into hunting when you didn't want to. So, tell me why it's all your fault? I'm just as much a part as you."

"No." I shook my head, looking away from his watery gaze. I refused to believe that. "It's not your fault. At all."

"Then it's not yours either." Dean gently turned my face back to his. His voice broke with emotion as he spoke. "You are not responsible for what happened, okay? We are not responsible for what happened. It's not our fault we were brought back like we were. And you listen to me, there is no way in hell that I would ever blame you for this, you hear me? Those bastards took him from us, but you? You didn't do any-fucking-thing wrong."

It wasn't lost on me how similar this conversation was to one Dean and I had long ago. Maybe a month or so after John had taken me in. It didn't take long for Dean and me to establish a connection. Especially after so many nights of me waking up covered in sweat due to nightmares.

The situation was very different, but the sincerity and conviction in his eyes were the same. Stronger.

"You really believe that, don't you?" I asked, seeing the truth in his eyes.

"Yeah. I do," Dean nodded. As much as I wanted to argue, I couldn't look into his eyes and tell him he was lying to me. Dean gently cradled my face in his hand, rubbing his thumb over my cheek. "You can't think that way, okay?"

"Okay." I nodded.

"Promise me, you won't."

"I'll try."

After giving me a small, sad smile, Dean placed a loving kiss on my lips. For a moment I felt ridiculous for believing any of those negative thoughts I'd had about him blaming me, but when he pulled back, they bounced right back into place. I tried to push them away as Dean rested his forehead against mine. There was no hiding the deep hurt in either of our eyes. But there was also no hiding the love there.

No matter how those negative thoughts tried to batter my brain, telling me he hated me - his eyes told a different story. One that I vowed to trust, otherwise I wasn't sure I could make it through. We needed each other right now, more than ever.

With that, I decided I needed to get up and get moving. For him. I didn't know how, I didn't have a plan, but I knew that I needed to try. So, in my head, I made a list. First I needed to get up. Brush my hair, my teeth. Take a shower. It was the little things, I kept telling myself. Anything to try to get some feeling of normalcy.

When I mentioned I was going to shower, Dean suggested a bath. Before I could even answer, he went to prepare one for me. I followed him into the bathroom, carrying a change of clothes with me. I brushed my teeth while the water was filling up in the tub, relishing the feeling of squeaky clean teeth. Dean stayed in the bathroom with me, but neither one of us said much. It was just nice to be near him again.

Once the bath was full, I got in, feeling my muscles relaxing the second my body came in contact with the warm, bubbly water. Dean leaned on against the counter, looking down at his feet. In this lighting, I could see how bad the bags under his eyes really were.

"Have you slept?" I asked.

"Yeah," he lied. Dean peered up at me through his eyelashes, seeing that I didn't buy it. He sighed. "Not really."

"Why?"

Dean shrugged. "Can't."

Seeing the hurt in his eyes, I knew not to pry. He didn't want to talk about things any more than I did.

When I finally decided to pull myself out of the bath, we showered together, spending most of the time simply enjoying being with each other. Once we finished and headed downstairs, I saw a look of surprise on Bobby's face when he saw me. He thought I didn't notice, but he smiled when I sat down at the kitchen table to eat some leftover soup. My appetite wasn't fully there yet, but I knew I had to eat something.

While I was eating, I was reminded of the stark reality of what was going on with Sam when Bobby headed downstairs to check on him.

"How is he?" I asked Dean, who was sitting next to me, one arm wrapped around my shoulders, the other resting on the table.

"I don't know," Dean replied, staring down at the beer bottle in his hand. "He's just been out."

Worry flooded through me, as well as guilt. Was Cas right? Could this kill him? I couldn't stand to lose him. Neither could Dean. Not again. Not now.

My thoughts were interrupted by Dean gently squeezing my arm. I looked up at him from the table, seeing a knowing look in his eyes. I'm sure everything I just thought, he'd already gone through in his own mind tenfold.

Not too long after, Bobby came back up, informing us that Sam was, in his own words, still snoring away down there. By then I'd finished my soup and Dean had taken the bowl to the sink.

Bobby made his way over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Happy to see you up and at 'em."

I nodded and placed my hand over his, giving it a squeeze before letting it go. Bobby patted my shoulder, giving me a small smile before leaving the kitchen. I looked back to Dean, seeing him smiling at me. He walked over to the table, taking my hand in his, leading me to the living room. I curled up on the couch next to Dean with a blanket over us, my head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me. The TV was on, a hockey game playing low in the background. Bobby sat at his desk. He didn't say anything but kept looking up at us from the book he was reading.

Eventually, I heard Dean's breathing level out followed closely but quiet snoring. I gently maneuvered so I could look up, seeing that he had fallen asleep, his head resting to the side. By that time, Bobby was getting up to head to bed. Before he went he asked me if I needed anything, but I declined.

Once he was gone, it was just Dean and me, the only light illuminating the room coming from the TV. A pang of fear ran through me when I realized I didn't get the chance to take my sleeping pills, but because Dean was out of it, I convinced myself that I didn't need them. I'd be okay for one night.

With that in mind, I rested my head back on Dean's shoulder, getting comfortable. It looked like we were sleeping on the couch tonight, but I didn't mind. We were together. That's what mattered to me right now. That's all I needed...

Anyone offering free therapy for last week's episode? This week's, too? Actually, make that every single one in the final seven. No, but seriously. I need it. No spoilers, but I am not okay. If you know what I'm talking about, I'm sure you aren't either. Feel free to DM me so we can cry together :')