Just a warning, this chapter will talk about things that could be upsetting to some. It goes right from where the last chapter finished.
Jamie sipped at her coffee, releasing a long breath as she tried to summon the strength in herself to keep her eyes open. She knew that it was only going to be a matter of minutes before Dean arrived back at the motel to find her note telling him to meet her in the diner, she just couldn't stand staring at the walls of that motel room any longer. She tried to spent the least amount of time in them that was possible. She couldn't take another talk with Dean like the one they'd had earlier that morning, for a moment she had thought she was going to crack, that she was going to spill her dark secrets to him.
You know what happens if you talk, Jamie, and I don't want to do that. So it stays between us, alright. Always.
The blood chilling voice still swam around her mind in relentless circles, never-resting. She heard it every single time someone asked her one of those monotonous, repetitive questions; why do you drink so much? What happened to you? Why are you like this? And she had never, ever broken. Not yet. But Dean made it hard to keep everything bottled up inside, he had a way of getting things out of people. He pushed and pushed until he got his answer, and a part of her had wanted him to know, just so he would stop thinking that everything had been his fault. She wanted to make him understand why she had left, but she knew that she couldn't. Honestly, she was still scared.
She inadvertently jumped as Dean dropped down opposite her in the booth and gave a small smile, a smile which quickly turned to a frown at the look on her face. She was drained completely white of colour, looking as though she had just seen a ghost. Her eyes were wide and staring straight ahead, unseeingly. For a moment he was certain she was going to throw up.
"What is it?" he asked, concerned. He glanced back over his shoulder to try and work out what she was staring at, but there was nothing there, nothing that stood out to him anyway. He turned back to her and raised his eyebrows. "Jamie?" he pressed, seeming to break through her thoughts. "You alright?"
"That jacket." she whispered, more to herself than to him. "
Dean looked down at his leather jacket, the one that had once belonged to their Dad, and frowned. He was now utterly lost. "What about it?"
Jamie opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, then looked down and shook her head. "Nothing," she mumbled, her eyes fixed on the coffee cup in her hands. "It's nothing, forget it."
Dean raised his eyebrows, clearly unconvinced. "You sure?" He didn't understand why she didn't feel she could talk to him.
She nodded slowly. "Yeah, just," she paused for a moment. "It doesn't matter."
"Hm," The frown held on his face but Dean brushed it off, deciding it better not to start another argument with her. "So," he began brightly, obviously intending to change the subject. "Where've you been all this time?"
Jamie shrugged. "Hunting." she replied simply, saying it as though it wasn't really a big deal to her.
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Since you were sixteen?" he pressed, clearly anything but happy about it. "How the hell does that work? You can't hunt, on your own, at sixteen, Jamie."
"Sure you can." she countered. "You get a fake ID that says you're twenty-one, hustle enough pool that you can bribe your way out of any problems, and you're fine."
Dean stared at her, mouth agape, it all sounded so simple coming from her, he couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe that hunting on her own at that age, having to take care of herself like that with no one to watch her back, with no one to rely on, had been better than being with him and Sam.
"Wow," he commented, the only thought he could seem to word. "That's.. That's.. Just, wow." He shook his head at her. "So you think that you were better off lying and breaking the law on your own than what you were with your family? That's nice, Jamie. Thanks."
"Hey," She shrugged. "You asked."
Dean sighed. "So, what? You've been on your own all this time? I mean, did you meet someone?"
A part of him wanted her to say yes, maybe in the hope that she'd had someone watching her back, someone to stop her doing anything stupid or getting herself killed. But a part of him wanted her to say no, because he didn't trust other people where his family were concerned, whoever they were.
Jamie scoffed, shaking her head. "Like who? I stay the hell away from other hunters, Dean." she replied bluntly. "I mean, for a start, I don't know how many of them Dad put an APB out on me to, and second, I don't trust them. I don't trust anyone."
Dean gave a nod, at least he knew that she wasn't stupid. "Smart move." he commented.
He could take some reassurance in the fact that he knew, even if he hated the idea of her hunting alone at such a young age, that she had been doing it with the right frame of mind. She was cautious, and he could even say that she was responsible. But he also knew that she was right, there were a number of hunters out there he knew for a fact would call their Dad and tell him where she was if they were to run into her. But he still didn't understand why she had such a fear of her own family finding her again, that still remained a mystery to him.
"So, what's the plan then?" he asked her, nodding over at one of the waitresses for a coffee as she passed.
Jamie rolled her eyes at the flirtatious smirk on his face as he looked the woman up and down, he clearly hadn't changed. As much as she didn't want to let herself admit it, she mad missed him since she had left. She had missed the way that he had been able to make her smile, even if it was only a moment, when smiling seemed so far out of reach. She missed how he had sometimes been able to make her forget her own dark thoughts. Now and again, even without realising he was doing it, he had reminded her not to give up, that it wasn't worth it.
"I dunno," she muttered as the woman walked away. Dean finally tore his eyes away from her and turned his attention back to Jamie. "Suppose we'll have to kill some time, can't really do anything until tonight, unless you wanna burn up a body in broad daylight."
Dean nodded in agreement. "Alright, what d'ya wanna do?" he asked, taking a drink of his coffee.
She shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I've got some stuff I need to do, so -"
"What stuff?" Dean cut her off suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Just stuff," she said defensively. "It's not important. I'll, uh, I'll meet you tonight, okay?"
Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but before he could even think up an argument she had already crossed the diner and left through the doors. He shook his head to himself slowly, something was up with her. He couldn't work out whether she really did have something to do or whether she just didn't want to talk to him all day, but he could take a pretty good guess. She was so closed up around him, more than he had ever remembered, she made it look like an effort just being around him. He missed his sister, the one that he had grown up with, before she had become the way she was now.
That night, 11:32pm.
Dean walked through the dark graveyard, shining his torch around slowly as he looked between the different names on the rows of graves around him. Jamie hadn't shown up again, he was starting to think that she had skipped town and bailed on him, which wouldn't be a big shocker to him if it was the truth. But if that was the case, the first thing he intended to do once he was done with the hunt was find her and get some straight answers. He didn't understand her, at all.
He walked further into the graveyard and stopped at a sound behind him. It sounded like a faint scraping somewhere in the distance, but he couldn't quite work out where. He frowned and turned in the direction of it, following the sound that only became louder the closer he got to whatever it was. The sound became clearer the further he walked, until the point that he was completely aware of what it was. He came to a stop at the edge of one of the graves, peering down and raising his eyebrows.
"You took your time." Jamie muttered, not even bothering to look up and make sure that it was him.
Dean dropped his duffel bag and scoffed, jumping down into the half dug grave so that they were standing face to face. "Well, I would've gotten here earlier if someone wouldn't have ditched my ass this morning, again." Jamie rolled her eyes and went back to shoveling dirt out of the grave. Dean grabbed a shovel of his own and began doing the same. "I'm guessing you're not willing to disclose where you've been all day?" he pressed sarcastically, already knowing what her answer would be.
Jamie scoffed. "You'd be guessing right." she quipped.
Dean shook his head. "You know you're not gonna be able to keep up this lying forever, Jamie." he told her simply. "Sooner or later, you're gonna have to tell me what's going on with you."
She huffed a laugh. "Well, I choose later." she retorted.
"Of course you do." Dean muttered, not at all surprised with her answer.
It didn't take long to hit the coffin. Jamie pushed herself up out of the grave and grabbed a shotgun as Dean smashed open the wood with the back of his shovel. He cleared his throat at the quickly becoming familiar sight of a skeleton and also pushed himself up out of the grave. He grabbed the salt from the ground and began to pour it over the bones. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of a gunshot, seeing Jamie shoot the pale, transparent form of the ghost, before he turned his attention back to the grave.
Once he was done, he tossed the empty salt container to the ground and turned just in time to see the ghost appear and throw Jamie off somewhere in the darkness. His eyes frantically scanned between the graves for her. "Jamie?!" he yelled. "Are you alright?!"
Before he could wait for an answer, Dean seemed to feel the presence of someone standing behind him and turned around, coming face to face with the ghost. There was a murderous look in the cold, dead eyes that stared back at him. Before he even had a chance to register the fact, not even a second after he had turned around, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the night air and the ghost dissipated in front of him. He turned to Jamie and gave a small nod. "Thanks for that." he muttered.
Jamie didn't respond, just threw him the bottle of lighter fluid which he then poured over the bones. He tossed down the matches and watched as the fire broke out through the coffin, engulfing the body in flames.
It seemed surreal to him, the two of them had never taken a hunt alone before, never with just the two of them there, yet it felt like the most familiar thing to be doing. Without words, they seemed to fall into such an easy pattern, it was like it was all routine to them already.
Jamie dropped the shotgun down to the ground and sat down at the edge of the grave with a heavy groan. The pain was clear on her face, she didn't even bother to hide it. "You alright?" Dean asked, concerned.
She nodded slowly. "I'm great, just gimme a minute."
Dean looked skeptical. He moved to sit down beside her on the ground and sighed. "Hey, you went with quite a bang there, your ribs might be cracked." he pressed. "Let me take a look."
"Dean," she protested. "My ribs are fine."
"Just show me, we'll make sure." Dean tried again.
"Dean -" she went to argue but Dean wasn't having it.
"Show me, Jamie." he said a little more forcefully.
She sighed, defeated, and pulled up her t-shirt. Through the darkness, even with the only light coming from the fire burning beside them, he could clearly see the amount of scars on her stomach. If he hadn't known better he'd have said that they had come from knives. They looked years old, yet he never remembered anything happening to her when she had been with them, he would have noticed. He was sure he would have noticed someone plunging a knife into his kid sister's stomach.
"What the hell happened there?" Jamie didn't answer, shaking her head and refusing to look at him. Dean sighed and tentatively reached out to feel her ribs, satisfied that they weren't damaged. "You were lucky," he commented. "I think you're just bruised."
"Yeah, that's me, lucky." she muttered.
Dean frowned, brushing off the comment and putting it down to the pain. "So, where were you all day?"
For a second she looked grateful that he had changed the subject, but a part of him knew she still wouldn't say so. "Why does it matter where I was?" she asked defensively.
"You been out drinking?" Dean took a guess, at the same time he quirked an eyebrow at her. "Or worse?" he pressed. "Are you on drugs?"
Jamie scoffed. "No, Dean," she said, exasperated. "I wasn't drinking and I am not on drugs."
"Alright then, so what? Getting laid?" he nudged her arm with his elbow, throwing her a smirk. "Got a boyfriend that I don't know about?" Jamie just scoffed. "Okay, so then maybe that's the problem? No boyfriend. You need to get laid, it's probably why you're so cranky."
Jamie turned to him in disbelief. "Okay, you did not just say that to me."
"Hey, come on," Dean persisted. "I won't tell anyone. When was the last time you got laid, Jamie?"
She could feel the blush creeping into her cheeks, looking down awkwardly. "Dean -" she shook her head, staring at her lap.
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Wait, never?" she looked up at him and said nothing. "Not even once? You - wow. No, that's, uh, good." he nodded. "Good for you."
"Dean, I'm only twenty, what is the big deal? Huh? I mean, so what if I haven't." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You know, if I remember right, you used to beat up people just for looking in my direction, are you surprised I'm psychologically scarred?"
Dean chuckled. "Yeah," he smirked. "Good times."
Jamie gave a short nod, saying nothing. Her eyes burned as she stared into the fire, pushing back the memories that had crept up through their conversation and burying them somewhere in the back of her mind, trying not to think about them. Neither of them spoke, just sat there for a while and never uttered a word to the other. Dean gave the occasional glance at her out of the corner of his eye, like he was subconsciously making sure that she was okay, something he highly doubted.
The drive back to the motel was silent, almost tense. Neither of them wanted to speak, as if they already knew what was going to happen when they got back there. Jamie couldn't stay with him, she knew that. She couldn't live out that life with him, she couldn't hunt with him, and he couldn't know why. She couldn't tell him, there was no way. The best thing she could think to do was get out of there before he had a chance to talk her out of it and make her change her mind. She couldn't let him do that. She needed to go.
Dean followed her into the motel room, his eyes fixed to her back as he watched her closely, anticipating her next move. He had a pretty good idea what she was about to do, and if that were the case he was about to lose his temper, very quickly. He closed the door behind himself, using a little more force than was needed, and stopped. Jamie walked further into the room and grabbed her duffel bag from the floor beside her bed before she dropped it down onto the edge. She busied herself with shoving her clothes inside, arranging them into some kind of an order, he thought perhaps just so that she didn't have to turn around and look at him.
"So that's it? We're done?" Dean asked, coming out as more of a statement than a question. Jamie said nothing, her back still facing him. "After all this, you're still gonna turn your back on me?" he scoffed. "I don't believe you."
"After all this?" she repeated incredulously, still looking down at her bag. "Dean, it was one hunt. That's all. And I told you how it was going to be before we started. It was just business."
"Are you serious right now?" Dean pushed in disbelief, shaking his head at her.
Jamie released a deep sigh. "Dean -"
"No." He cut her off before she had the chance to say anything more. "We're gonna talk about this."
"Talk about what?" she snapped, sounding to be at the end of her short patience with him. He had known that one of them was going to crack, and he was starting to think that it was going to be her.
"We're gonna talk about why you walked out on your family, Jamie." he said harshly. "About how you turned your back on your own twin brother. How you left me wondering day and night for almost five years whether or not my kid sister was even alive."
"Dean," He could tell without even looking at her face that she was speaking through gritted teeth, her hands were gripped in tight fists at the material of her bag in an attempt to hold her anger. "I am not having this conversation with you. What's done is done, alright? Just leave it."
"No, I won't just leave it." he retorted sharply. "I want answers, I mean, I think I deserve some answers. Why the hell did you walk out on us?"
"Dean -" she tried again, but Dean wasn't having it.
"What, were we really that bad?" he continued before she could stop him. "I did everything for you, Jamie. Anything you wanted, I did it. And you still walked. You still walked out and left me. I mean, do you have any idea what that was like, huh? Did you think for a second, while you were running around chasing ghosts on your own, did you think about how I felt? I thought you were dead, Jamie, what the hell kind of sister puts their brother through that?!" he shouted at her, he was angry now and they both knew it. He didn't look like he was going to calm down, but Jamie still didn't turn to face him. "I looked everywhere for you, you ran away on my watch. Dad went crazy when he finally came back, and Sam, don't even get me started on what it did to Sam. The simple fact of it is that you walked out on us, on me, and I wanna know why."
"It wasn't you." It came out so quietly that she barely even heard it herself.
"I'm sorry, did you just say it wasn't me?" Dean repeated incredulously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"
"It means I did not leave you, Dean!" she almost screamed the words, finally breaking as she span around to face him.
Dean was physically knocked back a couple of steps in shock. He had never heard her sound that distraught before. He had never seen her look the way that she did. There were tears falling down her cheeks, a shattered look in her eyes like everything she had held in over the past couple of days had finally broken through her walls, collapsing them like water through a dam. Dean watched her, studying her face for any kind of indication of what was really wrong.
"I left him." she finished quietly, her voice dying to nothing louder than a soft murmur.
"Who?" Dean frowned, confused. "Dad?" he asked, the only one he could think that she could mean. "Why?"
"Because," Her jaw visibly tightened, he could see that she wasn't breathing, all her attention seemed focused on not breaking down. "Because he's a fucking monster." she replied, her voice little louder than a broken whisper, cracking over the words.
He stared at her, he felt at a loss for words. "What the hell are you talking about?" he pressed, tentative of her answer. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to like whatever she was about to say.
Dean looked at her carefully, on the outside she had appeared to be perfectly fine. There had been an obvious void of emotion, but other than that she had seemed relatively well put together. But now he was starting to see, it was all in her eyes. Despite the thin application of mascara, they were still rimmed with a darkness, they shone with whatever haunting and terrifying memories that she couldn't seem to let go of. He recalled seeing that exact same look in her eyes when they had been teenagers, he had seen it every single day and he had never once lifted a finger to change that. He had never even bothered to find out what had been wrong with her. He had spent years with those same eyes, scarred and lost and seemingly broken beyond repair. And he had never noticed.
Jamie pulled a hand down her face and dropped the duffel bag to the floor before she sat down on the edge of her bed. Dean pulled off his jacket and moved to sit on the edge of the other one, facing her straight on. She stared nowhere but the floor, like she wasn't able to even lift her head enough to look at him anymore, and shook her head slowly. She couldn't tell him. There wasn't a way to tell him something like that, the words just wouldn't come out.
"Jamie," he coaxed, his voice dramatically softer than it had been. "Please," he almost pleaded with her, he needed to know. "Talk to me."
She reached up and wiped away the tears from her face, he noticed how much her hands were shaking. Jamie couldn't remember the last time she had cried, it had been years. She never felt anything, a part of her had thought that was just damaged, that she couldn't feel. She had seen the most awful things and had never even felt close to tears, she was just blank. And she hated it. Her innocent feelings had been taken away from her, she head learned to ignore them and push them away to avoid more of a beating to them. She had never allowed herself to feel the emotions that her own mind cried out for her to acknowledge - pain, hate, confusion, despair, fear - she had locked them away and allowed herself to go numb.
Jamie gave a shaky breath and cleared her throat. "He hit me." she whispered. "And he," she paused, rested her head in her hands as she choked on her tears. She hadn't been able to cry about it before because with her, any expression of feeling, even a single accidental tear, was just cause for more severe abuse. The only way around it had been to shut her emotions down completely, to push them further and further away until she could no longer feel them. "He made me do things."
Dean held his breath, he could see how hard she was struggling to even get the words to pass her lips. He had a horrid feeling what she was about to say, and he wasn't sure that he could bear to hear it. "What things, Jamie?" Despite how hard he tried to cover it, Dean was terrified of what she was about to say.
"Things that I didn't wanna do." she mumbled. Her hands dropped to her lap as she straightened up a little, taking a deep breath to compose herself. "He raped me, Dean."
That was it, he wasn't sure he could take it. He had been praying that would wouldn't come from her mouth, but there it was. And everything felt like it was coming crashing down around him. The man that he had spent so much time with, the man that he had looked up to and respected his entire life, the man that he had thought had always tried to do the right thing by them, he had been the reason behind the destruction of his little sister's life. Dean had spent years wondering where she had gone, why she had left, he had blamed himself for it and wondered what he could have done to push her to that, and it had been their Dad all along. And then he had to ask himself, how long had she been like that? Because as he thought about it, he couldn't remember a time when his sister hadn't had a dead, hopeless look in her eyes.
"How long?" he managed to ask, his voice strained as he tried to hold back his emotions. "How long was he hurting you, Jamie?"
"The first time, I was nine." she mumbled. "And then it just went on and on, it never stopped. Not until I left."
At that point Dean thought that he could physically throw up. He remembered her at nine, she had been nothing but a sweet, endearing little girl. She had been happy and full of life, blonde hair and a bright smile. She had been so irreproachable, before she had known the evil in the world, before she had been robbed of her own innocence. He had adored her. She had been the one to put a smile back on his face when he came home, she had been the one never ashamed to hold his hand as they crossed the street, she had trusted her big brother to always keep her safe, and he hadn't done that. And then she had changed, and he had never known why. There had been a time, probably not too long after that, when she had become quiet and distant. He had eventually gotten worried, thinking that maybe someone had been giving her a rough time at school, he'd spoken to his Dad about it who had diminished his concerns and pushed them aside, and now he understood why.
He got to his feet and took a few steps away from her, his hands gripped in his hair as the tears shone in his eyes. He couldn't handle it. Being a kid was supposed to be the carefree time of someone's life, it was supposed to be the happiest time, when life was full of magic and wonder and there wasn't any evil. It wasn't supposed to leave someone living a nightmare in the darkness of their own scarred life. To think that his own sister had been going through something like that for all those years and she had never breathed a word to him, it made him feel ill.
Jamie slowly pushed herself to her feet and crossed the room, picking up a bottle of whiskey from the table and taking a long drink from it. She had never told another person before. The only two people that had known were her, and her Dad. And she had thought that it would always stay that way. She had never expected that she would find it in herself to be able to tell another person, especially Dean.
"You, uh, you remember how he used to take us shooting? And then now and again he'd take me on my own, said I needed to get a bit more practice?" Dean slowly turned back to her and nodded, he knew deep down that he really didn't want to know. "And those times that he said I needed to do some extra training, or the times he pulled me out of school early and told you I'd been ill. Anything he said to get me on my own, Dean, that's what he was doing. Every single time."
Her crying had stopped, there was no longer tears on her cheeks or a quivering of her lip. There was no longer pain in her voice, there was nothing left. She spoke with no feeling, no emotion, nothing. She was once again just blank.
"Then he'd get angry," she went on. "At himself, at me, I don't know. But it happened every time. And then he'd beat me, everywhere but the face. He made sure that he didn't leave marks where you'd see them. He knew what he was doing, even when he was wasted he knew what he was doing."
Dean shook his head slowly. "No," he whispered. "No. I can't believe this." He pulled a hand down his face and blinked back the tears. "Why the hell didn't you say something, Jamie?!" he yelled. "Why didn't you tell me?!"
Jamie scoffed, slamming down the bottle. "You don't get it, do you? How was I supposed to tell you?" she retorted. Dean blinked, obviously taken aback. "You worshiped the ground he fucking walked on, Dean. You never would have believed me!"
"Of course I would've believed you!" Dean shouted back.
Jamie sighed and moved to sit down on the small couch, her head in her hands. Dean's anger subsided, being replaced by a mixture of hurt and guilt. "He told me I looked like Mom, that he loved me," she paused. "And he told me that if I breathed a word, I'd be dead."
Dean closed his eyes, he turned away from her and gripped a hand in his hair. He had to wonder if the black hair had been an attempt to get away from the unmissable likeness that she had for their Mom, now more than ever. She looked exactly like her, it was one of the first things that Dean had thought when he had properly seen her the previous night. He was murderous, he felt as though he could rip the man apart with his bare hands just on principle. He didn't know what he was going to do when he next saw him.
He turned back to her with tears shining in his eyes, threatening to fall. "Jamie, I'm sorry," his voice was just a whisper. "I shouldn't have let that happen to you. I'm so sorry."
She gave a small shake of her head. "How am I supposed to forgive what he did to me, Dean?" she asked quietly. "How am I supposed to let it go?"
The one thing that she had never been able to do was let it go. A part of her had clung to the hope that growing up would bring an escape from the pain. When she had left she had thought that everything she felt in her heart - the pain, the fear, the shame - she had thought that it would fade away in time, but it hadn't, it had never left her. She could remember the little details, the things that he used to say to her, the things he had done to her, they were memories that only seemed to grow stronger and stronger the more she tried to forget them, until she could feel the weight of them pushing her down.
It was always there, it was everywhere she turned; a nightmare that never left. It was standing in front of her and blocking her from moving on with her life, it was behind her to stop her from running away from the pain, it was next to her, inside her, every single day. It followed her everywhere, even in her dreams, and she just couldn't let it go. Every day, every time she close her eyes at night, she could see him. Every time she heard a sound behind her in the darkness she would think that it was him, she would think that it was going to happen again. There was an urge to kill anyone that got too close to her, anyone who was to touch her unexpectedly, sometimes she jumped when people did something as simple as lay a hand on her arm.
She hadn't seen her dad in four years, and he still managed to control her life. She still a prisoner of her own dark and abusive childhood, and at every single turn she made she was just re-encountering her own trauma.
After what seemed like the longest time contemplating his answer, Dean sighed. "You don't," he answered simply. "And neither do I." He moved to crouch down in front of her, forcing her to look down at him. More tears fell from her eyes. "We're gonna fix this, okay? You're not on your own anymore. You're never gonna be on your own."
"I'm not worth it, Dean." she muttered, and he knew that she honestly believed her own words.
"Don't you dare, Jamie. Don't you even dare." She looked down at him, for the first time since he had seen her in that bar, their eyes met. "I need you to believe me when I tell you, Jamie, you didn't deserve anything that he did to you."
As he looked up at her he could see how alone she truly looked, and then he thought, she had probably never let another person near her after that. She had probably denied herself all kinds of human affection, never letting herself be loved again out of fear of being hurt. The one man who was supposed to love her unconditionally had destroyed that trust for her, and it had left her in a position where she wanted to isolate herself from the world.
He tentatively moved to sit beside her on the couch and placed an arm around her shoulders with the faintest touch. He felt her body stiffen at the contact, she seemed to go cold like a statue, void of life.
"Jay, I'm here." he whispered. A small sob escaped her at the familiar nickname she hadn't heard in years. "I've got you."
Slowly, she seemed to soften. Dean's arm held her gradually tighter until she had relaxed enough that he was able to pull her to his side and wrap his other arm around her protectively.
"You're never gonna be alone again, Jamie." he told her. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? Not without you."
"I can't see him, Dean." she suddenly said, she once again sounded scared.
"No, neither can I right now." he agreed, more to himself than to her. He knew if he was to see him at any point in the near future, there wouldn't be a doubt that he'd be blinded by his own rage and he'd try to kill the man. "You don't have to see him, Jay. I promise, he won't ever get near you again."
Jamie seemed to calm a little, allowing herself to lean against him. Her hand gripped to the front of his t-shirt tightly, as though she was terrified to let go of him, her eyes closed. "I'm sorry." she whispered.
Dean frowned, looking down at her. "For what?"
"I never wanted to leave you, Dean." she murmured. "And," she paused, thinking over her words. "I miss you."
Dean closed his eyes for a second and shook his head. He kissed her forehead gently and held onto her tighter. "I've got you, baby sister. It's gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay. I promise."
And somewhere, somehow, she believed him.
I know, I know, I'm absolutely awful! I'd normally never write anything like that, I loved John, but when you get the request it's gotta be done! ;-) Hope you liked it, and thank you for reading and a special thanks to the ones who reviewed the last chapter, you're all amazing! :-))