Disclaimer: I do not own the concept or characters from the show "Supernatural." Any other characters not related to the show, The Vampire Diaries or Nightwold series, however, are mine and are not to be used in any other fan fiction. Some concepts were also borrowed or loosely adapted from L.J. Smith's "Nightworld" and "The Vampire Diaries" series. The original stories were developed using SPN episode content up until 02/11/10 and this one may include anything up through 2019. I will not include any spoilers for future episodes of Season 15, though my story took its turn after SPN Season 4. This is the start of a new trilogy. The first trilogy is: "Possession," "Broken," and "Sacrifice," followed with a new trilogy, "Mission," "Prelude," and "Bound." This story takes place where Prelude left off and has the same characters from the first trilogy. I do not own any quotes used in the actual episodes.

"Are you coming, Dad?"

No, he wasn't. He couldn't. Gwen had planned a little ceremony down by the firepit before they left. A small memorial mostly for the kids. Dean had heard about it through the grapevine since he hadn't gotten an actual invite. Gwen wasn't talking to him. That was fine. He was too busy packing his bags, trying to avoid looking at anything that had been hers in the cabin for the last few days.

"Come on, please for me, for us," April begged, pointing over to Dylan, who was solemnly leaning against the door frame. His son looked exhausted. Dean knew he wasn't sleeping because he wasn't either. Didn't help that Dylan was an empath. The weight on that kid's shoulders must have been massive. Both kids stood dressed in black. "I—I can't do this without you, Dad."

"Look, kiddo, you three have family there. Sammy, Bobby, Cas, Ruby, and Gwen. I just can't, April." He really couldn't. Everyone was so devastated, even Sam, who couldn't or wouldn't tell him exactly what happened, only that he had found her body in the haze.

"She's dead. I'm so sorry." That's all Dean could remember Sam saying to him that night before his younger brother broke down. It took a moment for it to register. His brain couldn't process those words. Hell no, she couldn't be dead? No way, how many times have they come back and they were freakin' human? She's an immortal for Christ's sake!

"Dean, she had a stab wound to her chest...and her eyes were…" Sam had been able to continue, shaking his head as the tears fell.

Dean couldn't help but picture the scene in his mind. He'd seen how bloody wounds to the chest could bleed and bleed, how it spread all over and down the body. Dean also remembered what demons looked like after using the demon blade. But he couldn't imagine her like that. Even after all the crap that went down, and how angry he was with her, he still couldn't think of her that way.

Bobby appeared behind Dylan in the doorway, waiting to take the kids down to the vigil.

"Daddy, she loved you!"

Did she, though? He kept thinking back to how she had talked with him in that cellar, how damn holier-than-thou she had been that she had pulled the wool over his eyes for so damn long. The way she had looked at him—with his blood dripping down her chin. There was not a twinkle of remorse in her black eyes.

"No, she didn't, A.C! She LIED to us for the whole time. Do you know what she did? She tossed me against a wall and fed on me. She tore into my damn throat. That's not something Ab–your mother, the one I knew–I thought I knew–would do. She played us. So go ahead. She was still your Mom; I get it. Do what guys need to do. I've made my peace that she made her choices, and she ended up exactly how she would have ended up either way, either by some other hunter's hand or mine."

April slapped her dad right across the face, his head violently twisting to the right. Man, she had an arm. "So this is all about the fact that she had 'attacked' you," she mockingly laughed through tears. "This is the first I've heard of it, and I've already figured it out. Are you that dense? You don't fucking get it, do you, Dad?! Coming from this supposedly great hunter, you sure are stupid. Isn't it so flippin' obvious? She played you to play THEM!"

What?

"Yeah," April started, her green eyes wet, a tight smile on her face. "She knew you wouldn't leave her behind if you thought she was normal, apple pie Mom—she knew you'd get us both out at any cost, your life included. And Mom knew there was one thing that would make you forget about her—and you did just that, didn't you? She got you to focus on one objective; me. And you got me to safety. You did what she wanted you to do, and she proved her loyalty to them to boot. She got you to do what I thought was impossible; she got you to abandon her."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Do you know the last thing she said to me was that she loved me?! And that she wanted me to tell YOU she was sorry?! The only playing she did was on you that last night, and it worked– for us. She sacrificed herself for me," she sobbed, Dylan silently placing a protective arm around her shoulder as she raged at her father through tears. "Do you know how shitty it feels to be the one saved?! Do you know how much guilt I fucking carry with me?!" She reached into her purse and pulled out a book, slapping it hard into his hand. "Read this page. She left this journal for me in my room. I just thought you should see it. We're going down to the fire."

No. No. No.

There's no way he would have let all of that slide. He would have realized if it was a plan–wouldn't he? But he was so consumed with rage and regret after she had laid into him. After all, she seemed so damned evil. Fuck. She KNEW that was the only thing that would genuinely get him to the core, that would make him forget her as Abby and not a monster. She knew.

Bobby lingered in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, his face obscured by his trucker's hat. Dean could see he was trying to keep it together at April's revelation.

"Dean," he started.

"Don't, Bobby," Dean stopped him, his voice trembling. "This can't be true, right—what April said? There's no way—if you would have seen her, heard her–"

"You're right, Dean, I didn't see or hear her, and I still told you something was goin' on with her. And you were so damned sure she was a monster. That she was gone, and you were up on that high horse and just so pissed she got the jump on you that you didn't care. And she was there all along, and still savin' your ass. Do you know what I heard April tellin' Dylan in her room—Abby shanked herself—"

"Wait—no, no, there's no way, Bobby," Dean nervously chuckled. "No, she promised she would never–"

"Yeah, well seems like she promised you a lot of things she couldn't keep given the circumstances. That's what April said, Abby somehow used some sorta chant and hoodoo and yanked Lilith from outta her and Abby locked it in her own body. Your daughter watched her mother take a literal demon for her and then take a blade and stabbed herself in the chest–"

"Bobby, stop!"

"No, I'm not gonna stop, Dean! Your daughter is gonna have to live with that for the rest of her goddamn life! And you of all people know how that guilt eats at you. So that makes what you just did to your daughter, to your sons—that's a dick move right outta your dad's playbook! And I know you, and you are a thousand times the man, and especially father, your dad ever was! I mean, look at your kids, dammit! They're the closest things I've ever had to grandkids and are some of the best things in my life besides you boys. I look at them and forget that they are even half anything other than human; all I know is that they are half you and half Abby and are the best damn parts of both of you. It wasn't just you that raised them to be who they are; it was you two together. You guys did what I thought was damn near impossible; you managed to hunt and raise those kids normal and healthy without them having the foggiest idea of your real jobs for years. I still have no idea how you guys did it– "

Dean shook his head. "No, you're not pinning this on me, Bobby! She made her choice! I can't blame anyone but her! She knew she could always come to Sam or me, and we'd have her back always, and she still decided to go on her own and make her own stupid mistakes!"

"Wait, Dean, so you're tellin' me that if the angels or demons or whatever had you, that you wouldn't have tried gettin' Abs to leave you behind if you knew it was a trap? Or Sam to leave you? Or that you wouldn't have kept something from Sam if it meant his safety? That you wouldn't have done the same thing? BULL CRAP! You are the literal poster boy of puttin' yourself upon the cross for the people you care about, Dean! You know you would, especially if somethin' involved the kids!"

Dean could feel his chest tightening, the tears coming to his eyes.

"You were just so damn furious with her for what she did to you to see what she was doin' for you," Bobby scolded. "Boy, I know that hurt. Before I lost my wife, do you know the last real convo we had was a fight? A bad one, and we never got to make up. I never got to say I'm sorry for being a damned fool, and I'll regret it till the day I take my dyin' breath. And the worst part is knowin' all we know in our line of work, and still not findin' a way to get that time back. And we know what makin' deals with the devil to right our wrongs always bites us in the ass. You know, it's funny—not long ago, I had a conversation with Abs about losing Karen. She was so interested in what it did to me, and now I know why; she wanted to know what losin' her was gonna do to you. She was more worried about what goin' away was going to do to you than herself. Do you even know how much she loved you, boy?"

Dean rubbed his face with his hands, hoping to erase what Bobby had just told him. Hoping to God, it wasn't the truth. But deep down, in his heart and his gut, what Bobby was saying was ringing true.

Bobby slowly walked over to his surrogate son, placing a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eye.

"Son, I get your anger, and now it's gonna be replaced with a different kind. I don't blame you one bit for what happened because it won't change a damn thing, and it won't help you. I can't tell you how to feel or grieve, or nothing, or tell you how long it's gonna take you to sort through the crap. But I am an old man who lost his wife a long time ago and can tell you you're gonna go through Hell. You're gonna resent the world and be mad at God and anything else you can think of–and it still isn't gonna bring her back. When I lost Karen, I hit the bottle hard before I turned to hunting as a sorta therapy, maybe even penance. And all through the killin' the demons for hurting her, the hole was still there. Then one day, the hole was there but not as big. That part never quite heals up. But you, don't you ever forget you still got three kids that need their dad, a brother who would walk over hot coals for you, and me. I'm not gonna lie and say it's not gonna hurt, Dean, and at some point, you're gonna have to let it start hurtin' and fight your way through. I know damn well you can do that even though I wish you didn't have to," Bobby explained, tears in his eyes. "She became like a daughter to me, you know? After all these years? She was family. Like I said before, family don't end with blood. And I'm gonna miss her a hell of a lot—and, look, if you can't go down there, know we got the kids. We'll be there for them until you can."

Bobby patted him on the shoulder and made his way out the front door of the cabin to join the others.

Left alone, Dean reluctantly opened the blue velvet book his daughter had handed him, flipping to a dog-eared page. He recognized the handwriting right away, Abby's journal. She was always writing in it. To him, it had always been just a giant waste of time.

'My dearest daughter, this journal is yours now. I am leaving you in charge of this secret. It's up to you if you would like to reveal this information to your father. I don't have the heart. Every minute that I lie to him, keeping this secret close, I'm betraying my husband, my best friend...'

Dean's breathing was starting to become erratic as the scene from the ballroom was now entirely fleshed out in his head. He had some sick, morbid hope that maybe she had vamped out and was ganked by someone. After attacking him, if she was indeed like that, he could live with it. He really could. But—not now, not that.

'...Sweet girl, I will stop with that now. Hate me if you will, but know that when I must leave—if I must leave, my heart stays with you all. I love you. Just remember that of me, even if mingled with resentment. Just know that I love you all and, wherever I will be, I will be loving you all the same.'

Dean dropped the book and sank to the floor beside it as his mind recognized the truth. April was right; Abby had played him, but only at their last meeting. The reason why April wasn't talking about how her mother died was apparent; she had seen it and knew it would be too damn hard for the family to take. He was the one that had the demon blade on him when captured. Ab must have gotten hold of it as she was attacking him. She had this planned. She needed him out and wanted him to get April. She knew she was going to take Lilith out. She's the one who took the knife—

Flashes of memories started tangling with the horrific scenes.

Abby's mouth at his throat, her hand sweeping stealthily into his jacket while he was distracted—

"Dean, look at me. I love you. I love you so much that it kills me that you may not be here in a year. No, don't turn away—I don't want to let you go. You're everything I've ever wanted in my whole life—You saved me time and time again. I'm going to protect you. I'm going to get you out of this deal."

She probably hid it in her garter—

"Look, we gotta get this sorted out now, Abs—before it's too late. I–I don't wanna lose you. I don't wanna spend the rest of my life thinkin' I let you run out without tryin' to pull you back. And most of all–I don't wanna have to hunt you."

Abby took the demon blade and she—

He couldn't finish his thoughts, but it was playing in his head. She took it, and she drove the knife into her chest. She killed herself.

"NO!" Dean screamed and hurled the journal at the mirror across from him, the shards falling to the ground as he started punching the wall until his knuckles bled.