Death was cold, it ached, it screamed out. Death was dark, encompassing, unending. Death didn't flash out the backstory of your life, it didn't lead you to a high place. It didn't leave you wet and drained and reaching for something that was completely beyond your touch. Death, it seemed, didn't want me.
It took everything I had to open my eyes, to try and find my way back to reality, but it was hard, harder than anything I had ever done. I probably shouldn't have slept, but with the blood loss there was no way of getting around it. Sometime later I remember waking up, my side stuck to the bed with drying blood, and my lids felt heavy, like two small weights wanting nothing more than to close.
I wasn't going to give into this, couldn't give into it, and I knew I needed to move. First it was my fingers, flexed the cold ache out of them, then moved onto the arms before I found the strength to push up and away from the fabric. The bleeding had stopped from the pressure applied, but I knew as soon as I peeled the sheet away, it would begin again.
Shaking fingers made it hard to grip the knife, but somehow they managed to get it though the sheet and I was finally free to fall off the bed. Landing ungracefully as possible, the air rushed from me as I felt the bruised and broken bones of my ribs and the darkness swallowed me whole.
Hours later, maybe moment, maybe days, heavy lids opened again and this time I was looking at the side of the bed. I swallowed dryly and moved my head around, hoping to find some sort of direction, but again, I only moved as far as my body would take me. Pushing up and shifting as slowly as possible, I managed to crawl over to the bag that sat by the edge of the dresser.
Struggling to catch my breath as I leaned back on it, I took the knife and cut the length of my tanktop, exposing the sheet that was still stuck to my skin. Everything seemed to take ten times the effort, but I knew in the end it came down to one thing. Stitches.
Another hour passed as I fought with consciousness and the water bottle cap in order to drench the sheet and remove it slowly from the wound, even drinking what was left seemed to take effort that I didn't have. Dumping the pack beside me, I was able to pull the first aid kit from my bottom, a bottle of peroxide and a hidden fifth of whiskey. Perfect!.
The pain that shot through me when I huffed a few breaths before dumping the peroxide onto the gash was nothing compared to the searing pain of the first ten stitches that I managed to make it through before my world faded once more.
Blinking back to reality, I was happy to find that I was laying on my right side, away from the ugly wound and after a quick drink, not that whiskey was going to do me any good at all, I found the courage to continue, passing out again before the next fifteen were finished.
This was becoming a problem.
The bag contained granola bars and two more bottles of water, all of which I managed to finish within the hours it had taken me to finally finish the gash and knock my own ass out five more times. The blood loss was going to kill me if the infection I was sure to get didn't first. I needed something else, something to help with the regeneration of cells but since I could barely move without becoming exhausted, the option of sleeping anywhere but on the floor was completely nixed.
The next time I awoke, the sun was high enough in the sky that I was able to find my phone without the help of the bathroom light, the only one that had been on since I arrived, and I checked the time. A day had passed.
Feeling the lethargy of my wound, but the pressing issue of my bladder, I turned onto my side, dropping my arms in front of me as I tried my best to get on my knees. It worked, for the most part, and I made my way towards the bathroom at a snail's pace, becoming winded enough to say fuck it and lay down with my face to the cold hard linoleum before ever reaching the toilet.
I couldn't breath, so I had decided that I was just going to wait there then, until I mustered up more energy to move. It took longer than I thought.
This went on for days, four days to be exact, but with the in and out of consciousness, finally getting the strength up to bath, finding the right kind of clothes that wouldn't kill the patch job I had done and learning how to wrap my own ribs, I accomplished a lot, including getting food. Stolen credit cards always came in handy, and a burger joint that delivered was something I lived for.
By the fourth day, I had managed to befriend the driver, who stopped asking if he should really be calling an ambulance by the color and look on my face, and even had him stopping off at a convenience store for orange juice and anything that might help keep my blood sugar up. The sheets on the first bed were totally ruined, there was blood soaked into the mattress and I had to throw away the sheet and my clothes.
My phone rang a total of five times, I never answered it once, but as I sat down on the floor between the beds, too exhausted to make it up to the pillows on that fourth night, having tried to accomplish something other than eating or sleeping, (like moving, getting motion going in my body) I thought about the dreams that had always stirred me from the blackness.
Sam's mouth on mine, Dean's hands on my body, the way they both felt, the way they took what they wanted, the shear panic in my brain, the heart in my chest that raced, and I knew that something wasn't right. Something was escaping my attention.
On the verge of another blackout, another descent into darkness, I heard the alarm from the room next door, the way it beeped at a steady pace and suddenly, I saw myself in a hospital room, a woman with bright blue eyes hovered over me, penlight blinding me and when she moved it, there was a quick shift of black, like a matte black that covered everything.
At that moment, my ribs threatened to burst against the makeshift tie that was around them. I struggled to breath as her words came back to me. Hunter she had repeated it, but she was a demon, why was she telling me that hunters didn't last long there, but there was yet another shift in my memories, a diner. Some old trolley car diner where I walked by her, then had her pinned to the bathroom wall. Hunter was her word again, didn't belong here. Signs, she used, look for the signs, or follow the signs, but my heart was racing now as I remembered the black eyes on Dean, the menacing way he held me, took me, tied me up. The black flash from Sam's as he pressed into me, growled in my ear, made my body feel everything, and like it.
Demons, they were all demons but why, why would she sat those things. Look at the signs. Why couldn't I just remember everything and be done? Why couldn't I just go home or die? I should have just let death take me, but then again, as I recalled, death didn't want me.
I placed my head back against the bed, my hand against my chest and I counted by from fifty, trying to hold onto everything that I was, everything that I had in me that helped me survive but it was Sam's voice that snapped me to attention.
We had an argument weeks ago, but still three days before the vamp nest, he had called, he had wanted to know if I was okay, but I had never answered, never called back and when I was here, when I could have called out for help, I threw the phone across the room. There was a reason for that, I was sure, but there was nothing that I could place my fingers on.
Signs, what fucking signs?
I managed to get the pillow down from the bed, the comforter untucked as I slept between them, safe in a little cave, gun by my side, blade handle under my fingers. That was when the flashes really started. Signs, she was right I was ignoring them.
Four days, no matter what I had always been down for four days before I was able to move, four days at the hospital, four days before I was able to get in and out of a bath alone. What was the meaning of four days. A week after that, a week after they took me home, Sam had gone rogue and a black-eyed bitch, a week and Dean had become a Dom, tying me to the bed, taking what he wanted. One week and I had killed them both.
Reyes… the woman herself was a demon, a demon that they trusted, in a hospital that hunters didn't last long, in a diner that she was a waitress in. Sam's eyes, Dean's eyes, the knot in the rope that held the handcuffs, the layout of the bunker, the phone call when I finally hit the bed.
What finally got me, what really triggered everything was how easy they died. Dean would never leave his blade around, so close to something like what was going on, no he would have had it locked down. There was no way I was going to be able to bring him to his knees by slamming my head against him. There was no possible scenario that he would use a knot that I could have so easily slipped out of if they were the ones that taught me the trick.
Sam would have never stepped further into the room if Dean was dead, he would have drawn and fired. He would have dodged, not stood and taken the blade in his chest no matter how quick I was to toss it. He would have never been so ill prepared, never so vulnerable.
My eyes fluttered open, a ray of blinding light cascaded over me yet again and I shivered at the cold. I felt as if I had gone back to the beginning again, but I was still laying on the floor, still tucked in that blanket, and then it all flooded back. Everything that I had seen and felt with both boys, at the bunker, here at the hotel and I couldn't stop the racing of my heart.
Covered in sweat, the blankets around me soaked, I felt the fever flash through me. I pushed everything off, stripped down to a pair of boyshort and a tank before even thinking of glancing at the stitches. I had made it four days without even so much of a hint of infection but now, I could feel the rush of it through my veins, not even a regular one, but a blood infection that had me curling over in pain.
I swallowed as much as I could, trying to get the dry, burning pain from my throat as I grabbed the phone and called the young man I had befriended, begged him to bring me anything he could get his hands on, water, orange juice, something to help and I crawled over towards the bag, hoping that there was some sort of syringe with an antibiotic stuffed into the bottom of it.
Finding something, a small vial marked azithromycin, I grabbed an unopened syringe, filled it with 25 milliliters, my eyes trying not to register how big the damn thing was, and quickly jammed it into my leg, pushing the plunger down with a measured movement. Once I finally withdrew it, capped it and tossed it in the closest trash, I waited for the young man to arrive.
I dozed in and out in the time it took for the knock on the door to rouse me from the edge of the darkness, but I was feeling strong enough to get up and move, the heat in me settling down and I wondered if the medication was already working to battle the infection in my system.
With one hand grabbing the small angel blade that sat on the table, something Cas had given me as a present months ago, I wrapped my fingers around the handle and turned it, listening for anything out of the ordinary, but there was just another familiar rap on the door.
"Ms. Santana?" Came the boy's voice and I let out a breath before opening the door.
I should have known better, I should have been more prepared but when the latch gave and the door thrust in on me, I had no choice but to react in the only way I knew how, with violence.
The body that flew at me was slight, feminine and familiar, like I had been in a tangle with her before. Her bright blue eyes locked on mine, but her grin was full of malice as she swung with everything she could muster. I countered, the breath knocked from me but I managed to hold onto the blade before tucking it in the back of my shorts.
With a jab, I felt her stomach give, her breath leave her lungs and I lunged closer, until I was able to twist the wrist I managed to grab ahold of behind her back, snapping it up towards her shoulders as an audible crack echoed through the room. I should not be able to do this as damaged as I was, and I felt the power surge through me.
These antibiotics were awesome!
Hearing her belt out a scream, I kicked her knee, sending her tumbling to the floor with all my weight on top of her, the problem was, the fall shifted my ribs, which made me growl, which only pissed me off more as I flipped her over onto her back and thrust my fist against her face.
One broken arm lay by her side, the other did very little to block the assault I was now reigning down on her as I moved with a right hook and then left, alternating blows before I sent one straight to her ribs.
Broken and bloody, I knelt against her thighs and watched as she looked at me with a blood-soaked grin. Shifting so that I could get the best hold on her, I moved her against the wall, supporting her shoulders on the wood as I straddled her waist once more. Pulling the blade from it's spot, which amazed me hadn't caused any damage, I pressed the tip against her throat.
"Tell me who you are!" I growled, using my other hand to grip a handful of her hair. The undamaged arm came up to grip my wrist but without a thought, I stabbed it with the blade, sheathing it halfway into her skin. She screamed out again, dropping her shoulder as she looked up at me from under drenched hair. "Who are you?"
"A friend," she whispered and I felt her body move under me, like a shifter shedding skin and her thighs got thicker, hip bones dug into me as her chest widened and her hair shortened. Those blue eyes never changed, they only became brighter. The black hair slipped between my fingers as he looked up at me, still sporting the damage I had done. "Rayna."
"Cas?" I snapped, angry and uncertain, but I wasn't falling for that trick again, not with what I had just been through with the boys. I moved my hand from his head, sliding it down over the scruff that covered his jaw before I grabbed hold of his shirt, twisting that tie around my hand.
I didn't say anything, there was no point, he wasn't really there, was he? This was just another hallucination, something brought on by the fever, but he was so warm. I took as deep of a breath as I could, taking in the soft smell of what I would have associated as a summer breeze, something that was completely Cas, placing the blade down on the floor beside his broken arm.
"Ray, you need to fight this, you need to get away, get out of this room." the low gravel of his voice sent shivers through my overheated body and I sat down hard on his lap, feeling the sudden strangeness of his erection below me. Closing my eyes, I slid against him, and felt him shift below me, as if he were trying to get away. "You're not that far gone, Ray, you need to follow your heart, it will pull you out."
My heart? My heart had been broken by the two men that I loved the most, used and ripped apart in my mind, taken and twisted and there was nothing left to follow, but I knew that what I wanted to do was wrong, how I wanted it was even worse, but it didn't stop the thoughts, or the movements that came next.
I yanked at his tie, bringing his lips to mine, chapped, dry lips that at first stayed under the pressure of my own, but as I tilted my head just a bit, as I angled everything just right so I could feel them more, I heard a low moan escape him and he opened just enough that I could swipe my tongue across the soft inside of them.
He tasted like strawberries and cream, like everything holy and sinful and I rutted down against his dress pants, trying to satiate the sudden heat in my core. I deepened the kiss, dipping my tongue between those lips, wanting to feel his arms around me but I smiled into it, knowing there was nothing he could do.
Groaning as I pressed harder, moved quicker but with no relief, I slowly moved my free hand between us, and my mouth left his to catch his breath, if angels really breathed. I knew he wanted to get away, but couldn't and I smiled as I released the tie from my grip. Taking the hand that I had stabbed, knowing there was still sensation in them, I moved it carefully placing the palm against my thigh as I tugged the edges of the soaked shorts away from my heat.
Lifting my head, I stared down into his eyes as I folded his fingers, settled his hand between my legs and used my own need to push him up into me. I sighed at the fullness, at the burn the forceful entry had caused and Cas looked up at me with a creased brow, not sure of how he should feel, but knowing this was doing so much more to him then it should.
"Don't worry, angel," I whispered as I rolled on his fingers, letting the two inside me stiffen as he made an effort to push up as I came down. "I'm not going to hurt you anymore."
"Ray," his word was breathless, but he was staring up at me, lips parted, starting to look completely wrecked without me even touching him.
That was when I knew what I wanted next and how much I wanted it. I grabbed his belt and yanked at it, tugging it aside as I continued to ride his fingers, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on the man, the being beneath me, and he let out a whimper as I snapped open the button, moved the zipper down as skillfully as I could in order not to hurt him anymore.
His eyes closed as my fingers wrapped around his girth, pulling him past the harsh fabric, while stroking up the length of him. He moaned, as if this were something new, which I knew it wasn't and I couldn't help but feel the pressure growing in me. Sliding up around him, feeling his body quake under me just from my hand drew noises from me that I couldn't catch before they escaped and I let my eyes close for just a second before I shifted off his fingers.
Cas groaned at the loss, but that was when the smile crossed my lips. Wrapping that tie around my hand once again, and my fingers around the base of him, I moved in for another kiss as I placed the head of his cock against my slick hole. God, did I want this, I wanted him and I was going to hell because he was an angel, but then again, I really didn't care.
Sliding down just over the tip, I brought him up to my mouth, pulling on the tie enough to choke him but he only submitted to my need as, inch by inch, I took him in until he was panting against my lips.
Riding him as if it were the last thing I ever did, I could feel every nerve in my body coming undone. He was perfect, in length and size, wide enough to touch every sensitive spot inside me and I could feel the edge that it was bringing me closer to. I released his lips, backed away enough to see the pleasure that crossed his expression, and the confusion as he bit down on his lip, tried to buck up into me and screwed his eyes tightly shut.
"Wait, please," he begged as I felt him swell inside me, knowing his end was near, and those bright blue ones were suddenly open and alive. I grabbed his hair, tugged his head back and kissed him solidly as my body trembled, electric currents running over every inch and just as I moaned into him, I heard him gasp before pulling away and grunting through his own release. "No, no," he pleaded as his body shuddered beneath me as I came to rest on his cock, skin flush to skin and the warmth that he spilled inside me slowly leaked out as pulled up on him. He clenched his teeth as I moved up enough to tease at the oversensitive tip and he shook his head against my hold. "Rayna, please, wait."
"For what, Cas?" I needed to know, but he let all the fight go out of his body as he leaned more against the wall, slumping down as he took me in, eyed over my state and licked his lips. With a smiled, I released his head, twisted that tie just a little and reached for the angel blade beside my leg. Wrapping small fingers around it tightly, I slowly leaned down and kissed him, just a soft gentle kiss that sent a surge of power through me. "Thank you, Angel."
And I jabbed the tip of the blade up through his ribs, straight into his heart. He looked at me, wide-eyed and scared as the spark ran through him. He drew in one last breath, his lips moving as if he were a fish out of water searching for words before he went limp against the tie.
With a breath I stood on shaking knees, pulled the blade from the spot it was lodged in and looked over the man that lay there. I moved as fast as I could, suddenly feeling the extent of my injuries, the wild ride with the angel and the fact that I was nowhere near healed enough to have done that, struggling to collect my things, and get dressed, which pulling on my boot seemed to take the most amount of effort.
Still feeling him between my legs, I glanced over one more time at the still body before I closed the door to the little motel room. I expected a flash of bright light, but there wasn't any, I thought for sure there would be some sort of loop, that I would be back in the same spot that I had been before but then I remembered the signs. It had only been four days.
The sun was blinding, and I nearly doubled over from the pain of the headache it caused, but when I looked around and focused, I only saw one car in the parking lot, my own. A pristine condition 1970 Olds Cutlass 442, dark blue in color, sat right where I had left her, guarding my bedroom door.
Smiling, I settled behind her wheel, cranked the engine over and drove towards the only place I had ever been safe. The bunker in Lebanon, Kansas.
I'm not sure I ever really knew where I was, but I knew it wasn't Wichita, and after a week of being totally exhausted, driving when I could, stopping more often because I couldn't keep my eyes open, or I needed food, I finally arrived. Parking outside the entrance, I slowly slid out, tried to stretch, but felt the pull of the stitches before I could really get a good one in.
The area was quiet. When the door squeaked open, I was greeted only with silence and I stopped at the landing, looking over the map table before I placed the bag down, slipping the key into the front pocket. Curiosity got the best of me and I made my wait down the iron stairway, setting down softly on the linoleum floor. One sound would have echoed off this place forever which was odd because the buzz of the generators was gone.
It looked the same as I walked through, Sam's research was everywhere, papers gathered on the main hall tables, books piled up in his room, his bed made, but not really completely, as if he had just slipped out to use the bathroom. Dean's room was as it had always been when he wasn't in it, perfect bed, clean counters, organized weapons and none of them were missing. Even the kitchen looked spotless and unused.
After making the rounds to the armory, the electrical room, even the shooting range, I found myself walking up the set of steps towards the garage. Light automatically came on, four sets one right after another, illuminating the large open space, with bays filled with old cars and a few motorcycles. The shiny black and chrome Impala even graced her space among the rest, but it was the darkened corner that caught my attention.
Slowly, I slipped past Baby, my fingers running along her edges, until I stopped by the edge of the trunk and looked over the pile of metal that was once a dark blue Cutlass. My heart raced, thumping against my chest as I stared and shook my head in confusion.
I could feel the breath in me become harder, and with that the pain began to seep into my bones. My arms and legs felt heavy, the sounds that echoed in my ears were muffled and underwater, and I was on my knees before I could make myself sturdy enough to stand.
My vision waved and flashed and suddenly I was staring up at Sam, pieces of an argument invaded my senses, the words were broken but I could make out the anger in our voices.
Hunt, don't hunt, that was part of it, afraid for me. Stay or go, it didn't matter, but it did. I love you, Sam, my voice invaded, I love Dean too, no, not just too, not just in a family way. I was in love with them both. I needed to go, I needed to hunt alone, I needed to go, had to go…
The lights flashed from the side, me behind the wheel, the rain cascading down in the dark of night. Coming at me, no, coming from beside me, speeding, racing. The world was spinning, never stopping, the pain was overpowering, the fight was going out, the lights were leaving.
The final descent into darkness stretched around me, it took everything, made it cold, made it hollow and alone and I was in hell.
Cold concrete under fingers.
Blackness, all I can see is blackness.
Air, I needed air.
Where was I? I can't breath.
A light, a light is coming in, I can make out the shape of my boot.
Air. Air.
Ice, the walls are like ice and my fingers, I can't feel my fingers, so cold, so cold against the concrete.
Arms above my head, bracing my elbows, pull back on my knees and kick.
KICK!
Knees only go up so high, only so much force. Only half of what I can do, not strong enough.
Eyes water, breath. Need to breathe, only enough for one word. One word.
"Cas."
I found my way only to be locked inside a concrete coffin, just my damn luck. My eyes drift shut, closing as I huffed small breaths of the remaining air. The descent into darkness was there, right there and all I had to do was stop breathing.
The crack that echoed through the building almost sounded like the entire thing had shifted, and my eyes flew open to look down at the slits by my feet. Crackles of noise seemed to surround me as the spiderwebs of glowing light formed in the concrete, and I tried not to scream, but there was nothing I could do, the light at one end wasn't strong enough to keep the darkness at bay, not enough to keep me from falling as it took over my vision.
The air was cold and I couldn't help the shiver that flowed through me, but the light was bright enough to pull me up and out of the blackness. I opened my eyes, the best I could, only to find myself staring into bright blue orbs, ones that I had left dead and bleeding in a motel room somewhere in the world a week ago. His arms, his warmth was wrapped around me and for a moment, my consciousness swayed.
"Hey, Cas," I mumbled out, feeling the dryness of my throat.
"Hello, little hunter." He said softly, lifting his fingers to press against my forehead. Instantly, he erased all of the pain.
"CAS!" Dean's voice echoed off the walls of the mausoleum, and I heard the thunderous approach of two sets of boots.
"Cas?" Sam's questioning repeat of his name seemed closer and I picked up my head enough to watched the two of them come around the corner.
Both men stopped, breathing heavy as they looked down at me, but all I could see for a moment was the monsters they had been. I sighed, swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat, the terror of the nightmares that I had experienced and waited, just waited, taking in the sight of them expecting the black to go across their eyes.
Dean's hands were suddenly on my cheeks, warm and inviting and his lips were on mine before I could take another breath, gentle, with no force behind them and only love. The shock in his eyes was priceless, but it was trumped by Sam's need to rip me from Cas' arms and hold me to him as his mouth captured mine.
Love flowed from them both as hands moved in my hair and bodies wrapped around me.
I was home.
Cas handed me a hot cup of tea as I sat tucked in the corner of the couch, a blanket wrapped around me. I had been able to change into my normal clothes, showered off the feeling of being asleep forever and still couldn't get warm enough to get the shivers out of my skin. Sam sat on the small chair across from me as I stared at the cup and Dean seemed to pace behind him, his arms crossed, waiting for something, but I was waiting for them to strike.
Cas finally sat down on the couch at my feet, folded his hands together and looked up at me with a furrowed brow.
"What happened?" was all I questioned.
"You died." Dean said stoically and I whipped around to look at him.
"Obviously, otherwise that was a really cruel prank sticking me in a concrete coffin." I snapped before looking back at Cas. "How did I die?"
"The night that you and Sam argued, your car was totalled by a Mack Truck that ran a stop sign," the angel whispered, and my eyes went to Sam, watched the hurt and the pain fill him as he looked down at his hands. "They did everything they could at the hospital," he continued but my eyes were locked on the younger brother, "it took them three days to get you stable, and Sam was the first one at the hospital."
It had been three days since Sam made the phone call, checking in, but I never got back to him. It wasn't even really contact, more like a missed call.
My lips trembled as I took a breath and nodded for Cas to continue as he placed his hand on my knee.
"Four days after that, you were pronounced brain dead, due to the lack higher brain functions, there was nothing else they could do," he spoke softly and my eyes went up to Dean.
"You're not going to die, Ray," Dean snapped but I could hear the concern in his voice. "Stop being so dramatic." But there was another time that his voice rang out. "What the actual Fuck? RAY!"
"Only your basic functions were working, within a week, you were gone."
Everything happened a week after, everything seemed to spiral down hill after that I shook my head, looked over the three of them and then landed my glare on Cas.
"You didn't burn me." I stated and shook his hand off, "why didn't you burn me?"
"We need to keep you safe," Dean spoke up, "we need a way to get you out."
"Out? Out of where? Poughkeepsie? You stuffed me in a box!" I growled and watched him.
"Out of hell," Sam replied.
"Hell?" it was just a whisper of a word, "I was in hell?"
"For ten years, twenty-six days and twelve hours." Cas answered.
"Wonderful, let me just put that in my "places I never want to go back to" book," I nodded and pushed him off, standing up from the couch as I steaded myself on wobbly legs. I ran a hand though my hair but let it drop as I met Dean's eyes. "Why?"
"The hunt you were on, it wasn't a vamp nest," Dean spoke up, "it was a brothel, run by demons, very nasty, nasty demons, and they wanted you something awful."
"So what? You pulled me out?" I turned to look at Cas but the angel just shook his head. "How am I here then?"
"A demon, named Reyes." Sam added his own voice to this story, "we struck a bargain with her, she would go in and try to get you out. They know Cas, from when he got me, when he pulled Dean out. And you were guarded, they weren't just going to let anyone in, not without a fight."
"So you let a demon try to help me escape from demons?" I shook my head, licked my lips and tried to hide the smile, before I huffed out, "fucking perfect!"
"Ray," Dean said softly, "we knew you were going down from the moment you started to fade, and we tried to stop it, we did, but there was no way to get in, you were too closed off."
"I got home, I escaped from hell, from some Freaky Friday repeat of my life over the course of two weeks to find out that I was the one closed off. Seriously?" I glared at him, my anger mounting, my need to punch something growing and I clenched my fists. "You have been emotionally closed off from the moment we met, Dean Winchester, so don't you think that knowing I was fading or giving a fuck now is going to change anything."
"It does change things," he whispered, his voice even as he came to a stop but didn't approach. "It changes everything, you being here, breathing, screaming, hell, the fact that you're glaring at me and all I can think about is how beautiful you are changes everything."
"What?" I was stunned, but not into silence, more like into a rage.
"I love you!" he let those words slide out like they meant nothing. "From the moment you tossed yourself through a window, thinking you were all badass, I loved you, and not a moment goes by that doesn't make me more sorry for not telling you sooner."
I felt my chest compress, like the broken ribs were still there, as if I was still trying to breath, and I looked at Sam, my eyes filled with tears but they were nothing but angry, especially when all I saw was the face of the man who had hurt me. He just kinda opened his hands and drew his lips tight.
"That's it?" I questioned calmly, "that's all you got?"
"Ray," he started, drew in a breath, and stood, "I'm sorry, I said some stupid things, I did some stupid things that I will always regret." He paused, and the next sentence was said as if it meant anything, "you're in love with my brother."
"I'm in love with you too, you ass!" I seethed and shook my head. "If you had listened to me that night, Sam, just heard me out, you would have known. I love you too, you were first, you would always be first, but I couldn't love Dean any less just because you wanted me too. So what, you just let me descend into the darkness, let hell run me for a month and a half?"
"I don't…" he stumbled but didn't move any closer and I shook my head. "I tried, Ray, I searched every book, every journal I could find. Eventually, we tracked down Reyes, she was the only way to get to you, the only way I could imagine being able to get to you. None of us could follow you down, it was too far, you were… you were gone, and by the time she found you." Sam's gaze fell to the floor. "They used us, they used me to get you to break, my love for you, Ray, they tried to break you with it. I don't know what to do with that."
"You don't do anything, Sam," I replied and took a breath. With one last look at the three men in the room, I breathed in as deep as I could and walked away.
*****
Cas knocked on the door as I sat to the edge of the bed, twirling the minture angel blade in my hand, feeling him enter the room without even looking up and he stood there, at the footboard, probably with his hands in his pockets.
"I followed you," he said softly, "I followed you as far down as I could. I watched your descent, and then I was pulled back, I had nothing to hold onto, and I let you down, I let you go."
I smiled as I nodded, my elbows on my knees and I blinked away the tears. "Do you know what I did the moment I saw you, because, you know, they used you too," I paused, if only to stop the laughter, "I fucked you." I nodded to myself as I let this admission out, "I screwed you until you came and then I stabbed you."
"That's… understandable." he mumbled, a little confused.
"No, Cas, it's really not." I answered, standing up as I turned to him. "You're my best friend and I beat you to a bloody pulp, broke your arm, put a blade through the other and then tormented you until you were nothing but a wreck under me, how is that understandable?"
"You were…"
"If you say, in hell, I will rip your wings off." I watched as his lips drew thin. "Go away," I said softly, tears flowing from my eyes, "I did some things there, Cas, wanted some things that no one should want, brutal, nasty, unforgivable things, I wanted them all, but what I did to you… please just go away."
"I won't," he sighed and stepped closer, the only one of the three that made the attempt. "I won't go away this time, I won't let you go, not again."
"I hurt," I breathed out through trembling lips, "every broken rib, every stitch, I still feel them, Cas, and I hurt." I closed my eyes as my whole body shook. "I don't want to hurt anymore."
His arms were wrapped around me in less time than it took me to breath out the last word. That warm solid body was pulling mine in, holding me tight and not letting go as the sobs shuddered through me. I trembled against his touch, ached for him to hold me tighter, needed him to get rid of the cold.
All I wanted was the darkness.