so, as everyone knows my story takes an episode and breaks it into three parts. like season 1, this last epiosde is running a bit shot. All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2 will only be two chapter long. so yes, THERE IS ONLY ONE MORE CHAPTER AFTER THIS ONE FOR SEASON 2.
review if you want season 3 babes, enjoy as always and thanks for reading :D
0o0o0o0o0
Chapter 61: All Hell Breaks Loose 2 Part 1
Three Days. 72 hours. 4,320 minutes. And 259,200 seconds. Sam had been dead for 259,200 seconds. I kept adding time in my head. There wasn't much left that I could do. Dean was lucky I was eating, showering and sleeping when he told me to. I wondered if he knew how many seconds Sam had been dead. Deep down I think he knew, that he was counting the seconds just like I was, he was just hiding it better.
I shifted on the creaky mattress, the coils moaning beneath. I think they were angry that my pregnant belly and I hadn't gotten up from this bed since we moved Sam here to Bobby's house. Was this house always linked with death in the Winchester's family? First John and now Sam? I hated this place. But where else could we have taken him? To a motel? Or left him in that poor excuse for a town? Maybe the only reason we had to come here was because we hadn't buried him yet. Tears filled my eyes and scorched my irises like a fire. No. We weren't ready yet. Dean and I hadn't said goodbye enough times.
I sniffled and blew my nose, throwing the tissue onto the ground with the other ones. I wondered how many tears had fallen since that night in that stupid wasteland. Hundred? Thousand maybe? Probably a million. More tears that I had ever cried in my entire life, that was for sure. And they never seemed to stop coming. No matter how dried up I thought I was.
A knock sounded on the bedroom door and I didn't need to ask to know who it was. "Andy?" He opened the door anyways. Just like he did every morning. This was our morning ritual. And I was growing tired of this same routine. Was I this annoying when John had died and I had kept badgering Dean? "Babe, you need to get up. It's not healthy for you to be lying around all the time."
I sniffed and rubbed my nose. He seemed better this morning. His voice was less shaky, like all the booze had finally helped settle his nerves. I almost felt like screaming at him. Almost. All the energy I ever had anymore was used for opening my eyes and blowing my nose. Why wasn't he as upset as I was? Didn't he grasp that Sam was dead? That he was going to rot from the inside out and we'd never see him smile again, or open his eyes or laugh or any of the other things I had taken for granted. I swallowed thickly. I'd never smell vanilla coming from him again or feel his arms around me. Did Dean not understand that too? Did he not comprehend that Sam wouldn't be able to do any of those things anymore because he was gone?
"I don't know what you want from me." I admitted softly. "When I was cleaning, all you wanted me to do was go lie down. And now that I'm here, you want me to do something else." I sounded angry. I basically had three emotions. Anger, distraught/depressed/upset, and catatonic. Was that an emotion? It seemed like it was becoming one.
Dean came into the room and sat on the bed near my pelvis. He ran a gentle hand over my stomach and Riley shifted. It was amazing to me that she could tell her daddy was near even when he didn't say anything to her.
"Bobby has so much dust around this place that cleaning it would be a hazard." He said with a small smile.
That smile wasn't real. It was all a show for me. Like him smiling would make me feel like I could do it too. It just made me feel more depressed. I was afraid of telling him that though, how I was really feeling. He was doing so well. Better then he had been with his father. I wonder if he had thought back to how he had been when his dad died and decided to be different, since Sam couldn't be the one that picked me up and took care of me this time. Because Sam was…
I didn't respond to him. I played with the bed sheets. He sighed, getting aggravated. "Andy…you're…" Go head Dean. Yell at me. Scream at me if you need to. Do anything you need to do to stop those fucking fake smiles. "You're driving me up the wall here. You either clean till you're exhausted or don't move at all."
What was the difference? I cried no matter what I did. I huddled up on this bed and sobbed until Dean came up here and rocked me to sleep. And even in my dreams I cried. Or I cleaned, nearly catatonic when I did. I didn't care if the dust choked my lungs or if the cleaning products burned my skin. Tears usually fell from the strong smells of ammonia hitting my eyes for a too long period of time. They fell right onto the glass I was cleaning, undoing the day's work. I'm not sure which one Dean hated more. There probably wasn't much of a difference.
"Why are you in here?" I snapped, cutting off his next sentence. I looked up at him and he frowned softly. I was hurting his feelings or pushing him away. I was doing something to cause the frown. I used to care about doing that, I knew I did, because it felt weird not caring at all if he left and never came back. I was scaring myself. I didn't care if he came back. I didn't care about anything anymore.
"I just…" He swallowed. He looked like he knew that this was a loss cause. That I was lost and I couldn't be brought back. Just like Sam. "I wanted to know if you were hungry."
My stomach grumbled at the word, like it was trying to remind me what the word actually meant. That I needed to eat. "No."
Dean shifted his hand over my stomach. "You've barely eaten in the past three days."
I grinded my teeth together. "Don't try and force feed me, Dean. I'm not a toddler."
"Then stop acting like one!" He suddenly screamed, making me jump. Had I hit a nerve? He sighed after that, taking the hand off my stomach to rub over his face.
After a few moments of composing himself, he looked at me again. Apparently the anger had hit his tear bank, because his eyes were flooding with them. I felt a tinge in my heart, like I was supposed to remember that causing tears was a horrible thing to do. Especially to someone I loved so much and was suffering just like I was. I had to remember Dean was on the edge too, barely holding himself together. Like one stitch holding a bullet wound closed.
"It's not only you that I'm worried about." He said calmly. Perfectly composed again, tears dissolving from his eyes. He must have been practicing. "You not eating will affect Riley too. So if you're not gonna eat for yourself or for me, please eat for our daughter."
Dean's last words seemed to ring in my head for no reason. It seemed that he had hit a nerve as well. A nerve that I hadn't even realized was there. Suddenly, all I was feeling became hyper sensitive and my emotions became ten times worse. My chest hurt from holding in sobs and my throat was sore from the sobs that had already made their way out. My cheeks were cold from tear tracks that I hadn't wiped away and my nose was stuffed to the point where it felt like I couldn't breathe. I was hungry. So very hungry and Riley was too. Like I could feel her stomach grumble as well. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was…hurting Riley by not eating. Why hadn't that thought occurred to me?!
I sat up, looking desperately at Dean. "Oh my god, I…I'm starving her!"
Dean shook his head. "No, sweetie, you're not. Riley's not starving. Even if you skipped a meal, she'd feed off your nutrients and energy before that happened."
"She's hungry, Dean." That came out with tears, even though the sentence hadn't been sad. "She's hungry because I am." How could I be so damn selfish?
"Okay," Dean said softly, stroking the side of my head. "Okay. We'll get you something to eat. Don't worry, she'll be fine." He cupped both sides of my face. "You both will be fine."
"I'm sorry." I choked out, a sob following. But that didn't make my chest feel better. "I'm so sorry, Dean."
He pulled me into his chest and held me tightly to him. He stroked my back and rocked me softly. "Shh, I know you are. It's okay."
"It's not okay!" I screamed, loud and painfully. Didn't he understand? "It will never be okay." My arms curled around his back and my fingers wrapped around his shirt.
Dean swallowed and buried his face in my hair. I felt tears hit my neck and his body started shaking a little. He was trying to stay strong for me but my sobs were breaking him down.
Yeah. He understood. And so did I. No more vanilla or late night zombie movies that kept us up to three AM. No more siding with me and getting Dean to go to a café instead of yet another burger place. No more of his laughing or amazing smiles. No more phone calls from him; whether the call was case related or just to ask me what I wanted at the store. Because Dean sometimes forgot my favorite ice cream or chips. No more seven AM breakfast runs for bagels and coffee. Because Dean slept past eleven. No more putting his clothes into a pile to give to him when I did the laundry. Less bags in the trunk. No one would touch the last gun he picked up and no one would ever even mutter a 6 feet tall joke again. No more double hugs. No more of his arms around me or his huge hands in my hair. His chest hitting against my back from his breathing. His lips against my cheek or my forehead. Never ever again.
Because there was no more Sam.
O0o0o0o0o0
I sat at the table as Dean fixed me some food. I wasn't sure what he was making, but it smelled good. I didn't even know Dean could cook. Cereal and spreading cream cheese over a bagel, sure, but cooking? Like with an oven or a stove and hands on kind of stuff? Who knew. I definitely hadn't. I think it might have been soup. He could make packaged soup. Water, stirring…yeah, Dean could do that.
I looked around the kitchen and sighed softly. I wanted juice but I didn't think there was a clean glass. This place was a mess, even with my incessant cleaning. Maybe I had skipped the kitchen. Actually, now that I thought about it, I was pretty sure I had skipped it. There were glasses everywhere, not all of them empty. There were pizza boxes and Styrofoam containers, napkins and silverware, sugar packets and half empty plates. I was surprised the room didn't reek like rotten food.
"This kitchen…" I started and Dean nodded, turning to look at me.
"Yeah, we're pigs apparently. I feel bad for Bobby. We're crashing here and we basically trash the place."
"Just the kitchen." I said softly. "Everywhere else is clean."
Dean almost smiled. Half of his mouth twitched. "Well, you of all people would know that huh?"
I nodded. Part of me understood that that had been a joke and I should have smiled or acknowledged it or something. The other part was too tired to even speak. But I knew if I stopped speaking all together Dean would probably have me committed somewhere. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him turn back around and stir the pot on the stove. I rose slowly from the chair and looked for a trash bag. But before I could even do that, I came up besides Dean and waited till he looked at me.
"Yes?" He asked softly, turning the fire off.
"Can I clean this room?"
"Can you eat first?" He asked, his question a second after mine, like he knew what my question had been before I asked it.
He took a bowl from the cupboard above the stove and ladled some soup into it. He put the ladle back down in the pot and extended the bowl to me. I looked at it for a moment, sighed and decided not to argue. I took it back to the table and sat down.
Dean opened the drawer next to the stove and handed me a spoon. "Last clean one."
Lucky me. I took it from him and set it in my bowl. I stared into the soup. It was chicken noodle as far as my nose could tell. The steam and heat from the liquid pushed against my face, warming my cold cheeks. I tried to make words out of the alphabet noodles as Dean poured the rest of the soup into a container and placed it in the fridge.
I pushed the noodles around with the spoon. I managed to make the word 'she' and 'cloud'. I licked my lips and kept moving the spoon to make new words. 'Cake' and 'Sam' appeared. I shook my head and closed my eyes. I took a second look. It didn't say 'Sam', it said 'Sun'. I sighed and scooped a spoonful into my mouth, ignoring the burning on the tongue and roof of my mouth. My brain was playing tricks on me. I wondered if I'd start to see Sam's name everywhere or think I saw him in the street or grocery store. God, when would it end? It had only been three days. I had more of this ahead of me.
"Is it alright?"
I looked up at Dean. I felt like giving him a confused look to put off answering the question. Instead I ate another spoonful and nodded. "Its fine." My voice sounded foreign.
"Followed the box so," He shrugged his one shoulder. "Shouldn't be too horrible."
"You can follow directions, Dean. I congratulate you." I was joking with him, like I used to. But my voice was so rough and smiles were non-existent anymore. It looked and sounded like I was making fun of him. I had to back peddle. I wish I could have done so without talking. "That was a joke, babe." Think, Andy. What did smiles look and feel like four or five days ago? The muscles in my mouth jerked softly, tired from lack of use. Was that a smile?
Dean smiled regardless of whatever it was and came closer. He kissed my head. "Thanks." Though, I wasn't sure if that was from the congratulations or because I had attempted to smile.
I just nodded and continued to eat. I heard a trash bag open and turned to see Dean collecting trash. "I thought you said I could clean."
"Yeah, after you eat. Until then, I'm going to." He looked at me straight in the eyes, like he was asking me to try and challenge that.
I rolled my eyes and turned back around. Boxes and containers disappeared from the table and into the trash bag. Dishes, plates and cups went into the sink along with the silverware. Napkins and sugar packets followed the boxes and containers. Dean tied off the bag and set it near the back door. He then collected the beer bottles around the room. Why hadn't I noticed them before? There was damn near twenty of them. I nearly asked if Dean had finished them all off by himself or if Bobby had helped him. I don't think I really wanted to know.
I finished the soup and leaned back into the chair. My stomach felt better, it was no longer turning in on itself. But my chest still hurt and my throat still burned. I just accepted the fact that it might be like that for the rest of my life.
"Can I do the dishes? Since you did everything else?"
He smirked and tied off the beer bottles bag, setting it down near the other trash bag. "You actually sound bitter about that."
"I'm not bitter. I just want something to do."
"How bout you watch a movie with me then?" Was he serious? He looked serious. Why didn't I want to do that? I used to love, wait I still loved, sitting with him and watching TV. Didn't I? "You can pick whatever you want, Matt Damon movies included." He smiled again. What was with the smiling? How…could he smile like that? There was nothing to smile about.
"The dishes need done. We shouldn't leave the mess for Bobby to take care of." Was that all I could say to him? Love, Andy. You still have that emotion. Use it; even if it's being buried alive by each passing second. "But after," A sparkle of hope deep in his eyes. "I would love to watch a movie with you."
He nodded. "Alright, good. What do you want to watch?"
I went over to the sink and filled it up with soapy water. I grabbed the sponge and squeezed hard. "A zombie movie."
Dean didn't say anything. If he had been smiling before, he wasn't now.
0o0o0o0o0o
"Then God does not exist?"
"I know nothing of God. Or the Devil. I have never seen a vision, nor learned a secret...that would damn or save my soul."
I curled comfortably against Dean as the movie played. We couldn't find a zombie movie. I never knew where Sam went to get them when we had watched them. I remembered he went into the next room, where towers of books were, and came back with three movies. I wondered if there was a stash somewhere that only Sam knew about. Or maybe Bobby just had his movies in there. Regardless, Dean and I went in there and looked. We couldn't find anything past the books. There was just too many of them. For a moment or two I actually felt claustrophobic and was afraid if one stack fell, they'd all fall and crush me underneath.
We stopped looking after a while and finally just turned on the TV, searching through channels. Dean found a movie I liked, it was only twenty minutes in. And even though we watched almost half of it already I felt like I hadn't seen any of it. Not really. I felt like I was on the edge of being cationic again. Dean ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my head every so often. I felt more like myself being against him like this, with his heartbeat against my ear and his arms woven around me. I didn't feel like a shell of myself, I felt whole. I missed feeling whole.
"You seriously like this movie?" Dean asked. "I can't believe I saw that much lace around Brad Pitt's neck."
I smirked, which was almost a laugh. "They needed to make him look like a vampire from the 1700's Dean."
He rolled his eyes. "He looked like a pirate."
A laugh bubbled in my chest and escaped out of my mouth. Dean smiled widely as he heard it. He pulled me closer to him and adjusted the blanket over my shoulder. I rested my head on his shoulder, my face turned into his neck. The smell of strong cinnamon poured out of his pores. I knew he had never stopped smelling like that, but I hadn't been able to smell it for three days. I missed how comforted it made me feel. I kissed his skin on his neck, running my nose against the underside of his jaw.
He jerked softly. "That tickles." He smiled though and kissed my lips gently as he pulled back. He cupped my face and stroked my cheek. "I've missed your laugh you know, your smiles."
I spoke against his lips, he had left his so close to mine. "I've missed yours too." I leaned up and stroked the side of his face. "I'm sorry I've been in such a problem."
He brought the blanket up and over my shoulder. "We're both dealing in different ways. I…feel like sitting down and just never getting up again. You feel like moving at a fast pace with everything and never stopping." I nodded softly against his chest. He was right. "And I'd be more then happy to let you…deal with everything in your own way." Was this all he was worried about? How we dealt with things? What about Sam? Wasn't he worried that he was dealing with rotting in the ground, soul up in the air somewhere, forever? "But you're pregnant and you can't over exhaust yourself babe."
I looked down at his grey shirt, memorizing what looked like silver string woven with the cotton. "I know, you're right. I just…I don't know what to do anymore." I said softly, sadly. Broken.
He sighed and kissed my forehead. "Bobby mentioned a job again this morning."
I didn't answer. Dean already knew how I felt about that subject. We were losing too many people. Not all at the same time but it felt just the same. My mom, his mom, John, Max…Sam. No, this was the last straw. I was done. How could Bobby just think after a few days that things would spin back to normal? That Dean and I would just dive right back into the hunt, the cases, the killing and losing more people? The saving of lives never balanced how many people we lost. Sam was the last person I'd ever lose. And that was just that. I didn't care if the universe or God had some other plan. Fuck God. What had he ever done for me?
"I don't care, Dean." I mentioned calmly. We had been doing so well with each other. Warm and just like it used to be. But this was making my blood run cold. I didn't want to do this with him.
But he kept going. Like he didn't hear me or didn't care. Or he really just wanted this information forced in my head. Like it would make a difference for my judgment. Like I would suddenly care about it one day. Never. Sam was dead. That was all I could care about.
"I'm sure it's a simple salt n burn case." He licked his lips and I started to get angry. Really angry. "Or maybe a nest of vampires. I've been itching to kill some vampires. Bobby," He scoffed softly. "He keeps saying that it's the end of the world, ya know? That he needs us…"
I'd had enough. "Then let it fucking end, Dean. Just…" He stopped talking and looked down at me. The anger thinned, damn near faded away when his eyes met mine. I just felt embarrassed now, shallow…scared. "Just let it end." I said softly. My voice was pleading. And it seemed as soon as I realized that, a begging word followed. "Please?"
Dean frowned softly. "It can't end, baby. No matter how much you want it to."
The words cut deep into me. Was it wrong that I wanted it to end because I couldn't live without Sam? Not without both of them? If the words cut me, they damn near caused Dean to bleed to death. He was obviously upset by the fact that I wanted the world to swallow itself so badly, every single person taken with it. But didn't he feel the same way? Wasn't he just as upset and lost and broken like I was? Wasn't he? If he wasn't, what was his secret? What did he know that I didn't? Had he been keeping a remedy from me, all this time?
"Why?" He could give me no good reason. I was sure of it. He could try but I knew deep down that there was nothing he could say that I'd except as a viable reason.
"Because…we have a purpose." Dean stated carefully. He didn't even believe in the reasons he was saying. "Because our fathers trained us to do this."
"So it's our jobs to save the world?" I spat softly, quietly cursing my father and Dean's. For every hunter that put this burden on their child. "And since when does Dean Winchester believe in destiny?"
"Since now." He said clearly; short. The words trying to dig into my skin because I couldn't link the gravity of the situation. He swallowed. His voice was soft now. I could tell what he was about to talk about before his mouth even opened. "Besides, Sam wouldn't want us to just sit here while the world fell around us."
"Sam is dead. He can't want anything anymore."
I was waiting for him to scream. To push me off his body to stalk away, to glare, to bite his lower lip in anger until he bled, to cry until his chest hurt or his eyes dried up. To do something, anything other then what he did. He pulled me up on his chest a little. Not hard or jerking but soft and gentle. He covered me with the blanket and held me. Rocked me even. He placed kisses on my head that made my throat close up and my eyes choke with tears.
I was sorry and he was…just lying there. Because he knew I was right. Sam was dead. We didn't need to want to save the world anymore. We didn't need to want anything.
O0o0o0o0
I shifted softly on the couch, going to push my face into Dean's chest. I opened my eyes and looked down. Dean wasn't there. I was greeted with the faint smell of Bobby's couch. It smelled like dust and a little bit of leather. If I concentrated, I could even pick up the cinnamon scent of Dean. I wondered how long he had been lying with me before he got up to leave. I sighed and sat up a little and rubbed my face. I shifted my legs over the side and pulled the blanket off me. I ran my hand over my stomach and closed my eyes as Riley kicked.
I carefully hoisted myself up off the couch and went to look for Dean. Was he even here? I was pretty sure I was trying on his patience since say day one. So maybe he left. Packed up his bags and left for good. Left me with Bobby and Sam's dead body. And it scared me that I couldn't even force myself to care. I couldn't deny that being with Dean, being against him and breathing him in, made me feel more like myself. Made me feel anything. I was able to grieve when I was with him. I just felt numb otherwise. I needed him. He couldn't be gone.
I heard talking to my right and looked towards a door not far from me. I swallowed. It was just a door. Like any other door. Like the front door or the door to Dean and my room. Or a bathroom door or a door in a diner we'd been to a thousand times before. Just a door. Probably mass produced. This same door was probably in a million of homes around the area. The only difference was what was behind the door.
I shifted closer to the door and put my ear up against it. I couldn't make myself go in there. I hadn't been able to for the past three days. I heard a chair shift and someone move. One guess on who. The other person couldn't move; would never move again.
"I always tried to protect you...Keep you safe...Dad didn't even need to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know?"
I frowned and listened to Dean. I felt like I was invading his privacy. He obviously waited until I was asleep to do this. But I couldn't leave now. Heard too much to leave, even if it had only been one sentence. It didn't surprise me that he had been so quiet about everything. About Sam. Sam was his little brother. It was completely different for him. It was such a more painful perspective. He hadn't really shared how he was feeling with me, too busy trying to pick me up off the floor I guess. I just couldn't understand how I hadn't noticed it before.
"It's like I had one job... I had one job..." His voice broke in too many places.
How was he even holding himself together? My fingernails dug very softly into the wood. I wanted to go in there and hug him. Kiss him all over his body. Take care of him like he'd been doing for me. But I couldn't. I wasn't supposed to hear this. And I think there was some sort of reason for it. Did he want to put up a strong front? Didn't he understand that he could be weak? That he could cry and I would hold him and eventually it would all be okay?
"And I screwed it up. I blew it. And for that, I'm sorry." My heart broke in two. Fuck, why hadn't he let me help him with this pain. Because none of what happened with Sam was his fault. None of it. I should have known Dean would be feeling that way. It was the Winchester way wasn't it?
I heard Dean sniffle and I felt tears build in my eyes. "What am I supposed to do? Sammy. God." He was so helpless and in so much pain and I couldn't do a thing. I couldn't do a goddamn thing for him. I was useless.
All this time he had been trying to help me, trying to hold me together. I couldn't honestly remember a time within these past three days that I had helped him, held him, made him feel better. It was always me that was breaking. Wasn't that supposed to be backwards? Sam was Dean's brother. Shouldn't I have been holding Dean together with my hands, keeping his insides where they belonged?
I backed up from the door slowly, making sure I didn't knock into anything or make a creaky floorboard noise. Dean didn't want me to hear. Hear how much pain and sorrow he was really in. This changed everything. He was just like me, upset and close to distraught, he just didn't want me to know. Did this mean that all the times I had been asleep and woke up without him, that he'd been down here? Talking to his brother who couldn't hear anything anymore?
I slowly walked back into the living room, giving Dean the time that he needed to grieve. I couldn't understand why he wouldn't let me help him. I had helped when his dad had died hadn't I? After he stopped ignoring me and treating me like I was just oxygen in the room. Or maybe he thought I was too wrapped up in my own sorrow to help him. I sat on the couch. Now I just felt guilty. I hadn't meant to ignore his pain like that. I would never ever do that on purpose.
I rubbed my forehead and carefully maneuvered my way onto the couch again and laid down on my side, facing the back of the couch. I saw Dean's leather jacket lay on the end of it and I stared at it for a few moments. When was the last time I saw him cry over Sam, not counting my peeping Tom moment. Was it that long ago? Three days, when we were all kneeling on the mud, rocking Sam's cooling body as his blood stopped pumping to keep his body warm. It was that long ago. I held Dean in the back of the Impala as we drove to Bobby's. Then I curled in a ball on that bed of ours and never saw him cry in front of me again. Seeing me like that; had that been an unspoken rule to him? Did he know that that was the point in time where he had to take care of me, damning his emotions and himself?
I reached for the leather jacket and pulled it over me, breathing in the leather and Dean. I scrubbed my nose against the material, cinnamon wafting to my nose. I breathed deep and closed my eyes.
When I woke up again, we'd do this together. We'd get through this together. Eventually, probably a very, very long time from now, we'd be close to okay.
O0o0o0o0
Yarrow flowers. A lot of them along a deserted road. I'd been here before. I looked around. Had I had this exact same dream before? Was I dreaming? Or was I actually here? Could you be aware that you were dreaming while inside a dream? I glanced around at the dirt, four roads coming to one point in the middle. This wasn't a happy place. I was at a crossroads. I turned in the general direction of where the four roads met; my feet had been planted on the side among the yellow flowers. There was a man, bending over the center, shoving a box into the dirt.
I had to stop him. He had to know that he couldn't make deals here. That it'd cost him his life. That it'd hurt the ones he loved. I tried moving but I was walking differently. I looked down to see if my feet were caught on something but I wasn't. I couldn't see my feet. I placed a hand over my belly. My very thin and muscular belly. Where was Riley?
The man stood slowly and dusted his hands off on his pants. I knew him. The dark jeans, and olive colored button down...Dean.
"Dean?"
He turned quickly to look at me. He was more rugged looking, like he hadn't shaved in a while and hadn't had much sleep. His hands were dirty from the dirt and I could faintly smell alcohol as the wind blew in his direction.
"Andy?" His voice was rough. Nothing like it was supposed to be. This wasn't my Dean. Dean didn't have dark purple, almost painful looking bruises under his weary eyes from lack of care. "I-I left you at Bobby's."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're not supposed to be here." He took a step towards me and his eyes were cold, lifeless. Like he didn't love me anymore.
"Why are you here?" I glanced around him at the hole he had just dug with his hands. My eyes filled with tears. "What did you do?"
"You have to understand." He said, his eyes as desperate as his voice. "You have to." He swallowed and his eyes softened. "I love you." He said gently.
He leaned his lips into mine and brushed them gently. I took his in, enveloping him as close as my pregnant stomach would allow. He held me tightly and kissed me hard. Like it was the last chance he was going to get.
When he pulled back he had tears down his face and my breath stifled as a beautiful woman with black eyes appeared behind him. He shook his head. "I'm sorry."
I jolted up on the couch and moaned softly when my stomach didn't exactly appreciate that. Or maybe it was Riley. She started kicking again and I sighed and closed my eyes, running my hand over my belly for a moment.
"Shh, its okay Riley." I cooed softly and kept rubbing my stomach until she stopped squirming. I licked my lower lip and looked around Bobby's living room. I carefully moved my legs to the edge of the couch and pushed myself up. I made sure I had my balance before I started walking.
I went to look out the front door, trying to see if anyone was home. I pulled the door open and breathed in the smell of rain. It was only drizzling but the pavement was soaked. Bobby's yard looked like a mud hole and I could faintly smell rust from all the car parts a few steps away. I wanted to see if Bobby or Dean's car was in the garage but I seriously did not want to walk through the mud to find out. With my gracefulness I knew I'd end up wearing the mud all over me rather then keep it on the bottom of my shoes. If Dean or Bobby would home, they'd hear me call them.
I closed the door and called Dean's name. I sighed and went to look up the stairs. "Dean?!" I called up the staircase. Nothing was replied. I guess he wasn't home. Or maybe, I turned to look at the room at the end of the wall, maybe he was still in there with Sam. Maybe he fell asleep in the chair or something. It wouldn't surprise me. I had cried so hard sometimes that I'd totally exhaust myself and collapse where I was after I was done. It was easier that way. My body seemed to hurt so much more after I cried. I couldn't really understand why. Whether it was a mindset thing or a pregnant thing. I looked down at my stomach as I walked and smiled softly. It wouldn't be much of a pregnant thing anymore in a few days or weeks. I was literally staring down the due date. It was close and I was ecstatic. Well, I stopped in front of the door, the god fucking blessed door I was so afraid to go into, I had been ecstatic. Before everything. Now I was just…happy, I guess. And even that felt wrong. It felt wrong to be excited and happy about a life with Dean and Riley when Sam's was cut short.
I swallowed and put my hand on the doorknob. I didn't know what I was expecting other then cold metal in my palm. Maybe I was hoping it was hot to the touch or it'd electrify me or throw me back through the air. Just so I wouldn't have to go in. I sighed, gathered my courage or what was left and opened the door.
"Dean?" I called out meekly, going farther into the room. I stopped just past the bed, planning on going into the bathroom. I turned and looked at the bed instead.
I don't know why it didn't exactly hit me at first or why I hadn't noticed. But when I finally did I felt like I was having a miscarriage. Not that I knew exactly what that felt like but I had read about it enough to know the signs. My body felt like it was being pulled on. A downward, sinking feeling, like being pulled straight into hell. I felt blood drain from my face and my legs grew weak and shaky. Sam's body was not where we had left it. It wasn't on the bed. The blood was, but Sam wasn't. I didn't understand. Had Dean or Bobby taken him to be buried? Why hadn't they got me for that? Or maybe a demon had took it? For some sick ritual I didn't even want to think about. What? No, that didn't make sense. Or maybe, both of those things made sense. Maybe the only thing that didn't was the fact that Sam's body was gone. No, no I wasn't ready. I hadn't said enough goodbyes. I barely had said any.
"Andy?"
I froze on the spot. That…voice. I was dreaming. I had to be. That voice couldn't be real. The voice box was rotting, just like everything else. Vanilla reached my nose and I breathed deeply out of instinct and clung to the scent. God, I missed it. If this was a dream, I wanted to stay here.
Then, I knew I wasn't dreaming, because he touched me. Touched my shoulder and I whirled around.
"Sam?" I asked, my voice sounding very unlike my own.
He nodded and tried rubbing his back by reaching his arm over his shoulder. He winced when he realized he couldn't reach. I knew what spot he was reaching for. The spot that had let so much blood pour out on the comforter.
"What's the matter?" He asked softly, suddenly not worried about himself. He cupped my face and I nearly broke out in sobs over the touch. He was warm. "Is Dean okay?" He looked over my body for a moment. "Are you okay?" I love how he had to emphasize the word because he couldn't find the problem by giving me a once over.
I let my chest break then and a sob rolled out of my mouth. It sounded choked. I rammed myself into him and threw my arms around his back. I held him tighter then I had held anyone in my entire life. I nearly threw him off his feet.
"Whoa, Andy." He winced, I was hurting his back. The spot where the knife drove deep and I had lost him forever. Those three days were forever. But I didn't care. At least he was feeling something again. "Hey," He wound his arms around me, supporting me as I basically collapsed against him. "Its okay, I've got you. Here," he gently pulled me to the bed and sat me down with him. I buried my face in the crook of his arm and kept holding on, afraid he'd slip right back down in his grave if I let go.
His chin rested against my head and he held me to him, beginning to rock me as he realized I wasn't going to stop crying soon. Though, eventually, when my sobs turned into hiccups, his arms loosened so I could inch back from him. I ran my hand over the wet fabric of his shirt where my face had been. I was about to tell him I was sorry I ruined his shirt but then remembered blood was so much harder to wash out of a shirt then tears.
"Hey," Sam said softly. Always so soft when he spoke to me when I was upset. So concerned. God, I thought I'd never hear him speak to me like that again. Speak to me any kind of way again. He tilted my chin and I felt like hugging him all over again. "What's wrong, sweetie?"
I sniffled. "N-Nothing. I, you were just…" How could I explain this? Fuck, where was Dean? "You were hurt." I said simply. That was as simple as it got. He had been hurt, it wasn't a lie or anything. I was just refusing to go into how hurt he had been.
"Bad?" He asked. I think he could kind of see where this was going.
I looked down. "Really bad." I said softly. I nearly laughed at my next statement. "I thought you were dead."
I could feel the frown on his face as I stared at my hands on my lap. He touched my hands and gently wove his hand between mine and squeezed them. "Aw, Andy." He sighed softly and brought me back against his chest. He held me again and rocked me softly. "I'm okay. I'm right here. My back hurts like I tried to move the Impala across the country," I laughed softly and he smiled, rubbing my back. "But I'm okay." He kissed my head. "I'm alive."
I nodded against his chest, making sure he knew I understood him. I pulled back again and ran a hand through my hair.
"Its nice to know that I'd be so greatly missed." He smiled, referring to my tears.
I couldn't help but laugh and playfully smack his chest. "Shut up, bitch. You have no idea what I've been through the past three days."
His smile faded a little, trying to keep the light tone in the conversation as long as possible. "Sorry, brat." The tone faded and I sighed softly, refusing to let go of his hand.
"Do you remember anything?" I asked quietly, looking up at him. I pushed hair out of his and smiled. "You need a shower."
He scrunched his nose. "I know, the smell of dirt and dust is driving me crazy." He swallowed. "But to answer your question, not much. I remember… you yelling my name and seeing Dean and Bobby. And then this sharp, white-hot, pain. But that's it."
I nodded and fixed my shirt over my stomach. "Oliver…he uh, he stabbed you in the back. You lost a lot of blood. It's been touch and go for three days."
He frowned. "Dean can't patch up a wound that bad."
I quickly tried to think of something. "No, but Bobby could." I cleared my throat. Sam nodded slowly and ran a hand through his hair.
"Did you get him?" Sam asked, looking at me, searching my eyes. There was something glittering there, past the pain and anger. Revenge.
I shook my head. "Bobby ran after him but didn't tag him. Dean and I were too worried about you to run after the bastard."
I felt his hand tense between my own and I watched as his other hand curled into a fist. "We got to find him, Andy." He stood suddenly and I did as well, faster then I should have. "And I swear I'm gonna tear that son of a bitch apart."
I felt dizzy and reached for Sam's arm as my eyes closed. He took my one arm and held me steady, I could feel his arm shaking. Was his whole body shaking like that? "Whoa, Sam. Just…" I sighed softly and regained some balance. The room stopped spinning. I opened my eyes again and looked at him. "Just cool it for a while, okay? Dean will want to see you, Bobby too. You wanted a shower. And I could make you some food. You're hungry right?"
Sam nodded meekly. "Yeah."
I smiled a little. "Okay, whatever you want then. I'll make it."
He sighed and watched me cross the room to look in the bathroom for something. I searched through the small cabinet on the wall near the shower and found a clean towel. I placed the towel on the sink and turned the shower on. Sam walked in slowly and turned the light on.
"Here," I said. "Shower."
He ran a hand through his shirt and removed the button down he had on. He frowned at the blood as he folded it in front of him.
"Yeah, your undershirt is just as bad." I said softly and Sam's eyebrows rose. "Get the gravity of the situation yet?" He pulled off his undershirt and I took that from him as well. "Let me see?"
Sam looked at me a moment and swallowed, he turned and I took a look at his back. My mouth fell open a little as I looked at the scars around his lower back. I couldn't stop my hand from faintly running my fingers over him.
He shuddered softly at the touch and I suddenly realized I really shouldn't have been touching him like that. I pulled my hand back and pushed hair away from my face.
"I'll…I'll wash these." I told him and he nodded.
"Yeah, thanks."
I smiled once at him and went out of the bathroom, closing the door. I took a big breath through my lungs. God, no one should ever fucking die around here. I had missed Sam so much that I seriously lost my inhibitions there for a moment. I rolled my eyes. What was wrong with me?
I sighed, pushing the thoughts out of my head. It was spur of the moment, it meant nothing. Sam was alive. That was all that mattered. I went towards the basement and carefully made my way down the stairs. Dean would kill me if he knew I was trying to go down these steep stairs in the dark. I told Bobby it was useless to have a light switch at the bottom of the steps. I held onto the banister and made my way down. I flipped the light on as I reached the bottom and walked towards the washer.
I scrunched my eyes as I got to the washer. I turned my head a little, hunter hearing kicking into drive out of habit. I heard talking coming from the garage. I set the clothes on the washer and carefully maneuvered my way through the basement. Over the rat traps and the weapons that were broken. Over car parts and oil canisters. I swallowed and came to the door on the far side of the basement. Light crept out from under the door, shining on my socked covered feet. The garage was open. Was Dean and Bobby home?
"Deal….give…didn't you?" I heard almost every other word from where I was standing. I moved closer and put my ear to the door. It was Bobby who was yelling. "How long did they give you?!" He screamed.
Someone hesitated. "One year." I froze. Dean. I will give you one year, and one year only. The female voice ricocheted in my head, a past dream suddenly erupting in my thoughts from Dean's words.
I had been so relieved that Sam was alive that I hadn't thought twice of how he got that way. I opened the door, just a little, and glanced over at Dean. My heart dropped, fuck my heart stopped, I knew exactly how, didn't I? Had a warning dream twice now. He couldn't have. Would not have done this to me. I…I was pregnant and he was the father. He never would have done this. Even for his brother. Fuck, never. He wasn't like his father. Maybe in everything else, but never in this case. Dean Winchester would never sell his soul. He promised me.
"Dean..." I said after a few moments and he looked at me, pulling his attention from the game on the TV. "When you were at the crossroads, summoning that demon, you didn't try and make a deal right? You'd never do that?"
He cupped my face with both of his hands. "I'd never do that." His voice was reassuring, not one hint of fibbing. "I wouldn't leave you here by yourself."
"What…What are you going to tell Andy?" Bobby demanded, I could see his face was pale and his eyes were almost red with anger.
Softly. He was a fucking coward. "Nothing. She's not going to know."
"She's going to know something's up. Sam is alive, Dean."
Dean faltered, but only for a moment. When your whole life is made up of lies its easy to come up with ones on the spot. "We'll, we'll tell her I found another faith healer. Or a fucking voodoo priest. I don't care what we tell her." Tears filled my eyes. "But we're not telling her the truth. Not with Riley so close to being born."
I bite my tongue hard as he said her name. Fuck, how could he do this to me? To Riley? I nearly gasped as I heard a large banging noise. Bobby had taken Dean by the collar and rammed him against the Impala.
"I could throttle you!" He yelled.
Dean looked at him once and I saw the sparkly tears fill his eyes as some sunbeams hit his face. "I couldn't let him die, Bobby. I couldn't. He's my brother."
Bobby scoffed. "How's your brother gonna feel when he knows your going to hell?" Hell. Forever. Never ever coming back. My heart stopped in my chest. Riley stopped moving within me. "How'd you feel when you knew your dad went for you?"
I turned and went up the stairs as quick as I could and went upstairs after that. I grabbed my duffel and threw Dean's clothes out of it and stuffed mine inside. I gathered the money from the nightstand, from Dean's poker nights and hustles and stuffed it in my pocket. I looked down and slipped my shoes on.
I tried to think of anything else I would need. I didn't know where I was going. But I wasn't just going to sit here. Dumb. Like I knew nothing. Wasn't going to just nod my head and be relieved when Dean told me a fucking lie about a faith healer. I wasn't going to lie here and hold his baby when he obviously didn't care about her, about me. About the eventual family we were supposed to have. How fucking dare he? What gave him the right? I ripped off my chain that held my protective coin and threw it on the bed.
As far as I was concerned, Dean Winchester was nothing to me. I threw the bag over my shoulder and went downstairs quietly. I heard Dean and Bobby come up the basement stairs, and I hurried out the front door. I never wanted to see them again.
o0o0o0o0o0
that movie dean and andy were watching was "Interview with the Vampire" by the way :D thats where the quote is from.
its one of my favorite movies.