AN: This chapter took me a while, but it is the longest chapter by far. It didn't feel right to split it up like Chapter 3. Thank you for your patience and continued support. Please enjoy Chapter 5.

WARNING: This chapter depicts abuse and self harm.

Minutes… hours… an eternity. The knife was in your hands and you fingered it idly. You stared at it, desperate to focus on anything but Alicia's lifeless body, yet unable to open it and be faced with your reflection in the blade.

You couldn't remember falling asleep, but you must have at some point. Consciousness returned when as felt something on your face. You could vaguely hear someone calling your name.

"Y/N… Y/N!"

You startled suddenly, ready to fight out of instinct and flicked open the knife.

"Woah! Easy there, Y/N." Focusing, you realized Sam was with you. He held out his left hand in surrender and to calm you. You noticed his right arm was in a sling.

"Sammy?" After a moment of disbelief you allowed yourself to relax and look around. "Where's Cass?" You figured that they would be working together.

"Cass… Cass is dealing with some stuff right now. In your message you said funky town, where's Dean?" Deflect, distract, and redirect. Classic Winchester strategies. You filed Cass away in your brain to ask about later.

"The town—it's been crawling with demons since we got here. Crowley's entourage, they follow—followed us everywhere we went. I didn't want you coming in unprepared..." You gazed over Sam's shoulder and caught a glimpse of Alicia's body as you said it. Nausea hit you suddenly and fiercely. You pushed Sam back and barely made it to the bathroom.

Sam followed after you and you felt him sweep back your hair. "Hey, it's ok." He kept murmuring soothing words until your stomach and brain agreed that you had nothing left to offer the Porcelain God. "You done?"

You nodded shakily and took some steadying breaths. Sam kindly handed you a washcloth. "Can't look at her, Sam." You choked back a sob.

"Who? The girl—"

"Alicia. Her name was Alicia and I got her killed." Words began to spill out before you knew what you were saying. "She worked at the diner. I handed her a note with instructions. She's the one that called you. The demons caught her and Dean—" You barely held back another wave of nausea. "Oh God…"

Sam placed and gentle hand on your shoulder and spoke softly. "What happened to Dean, Y/N? Where is he?"

"He—he stabbed her with the First Blade." Your eyes drifted to Sam's. "Dean and Crowley left after—after they were done… He left me behind Sam, he left me." You didn't realize that you'd started crying until Sam brushed his thumb against your cheeks and pulled you into an awkward hug.

"We'll find him, Y/N. It's gonna be ok. We'll find Dean and get him back." Sam was so confident and reassuring that you nearly believed him. "Stay here." Sam stood and left the bathroom. There were some muffled sounds coming from the other side of the door before he returned a few minutes later. He held a hand out to you and helped you to your feet.

"First thing's first, we get you someplace safer and fixed up." Sam led you into the main room and you braced yourself for the horrible sight of Alicia's corpse once more.

Instead, the bed was stripped. Sam had taken the time to wrap her body in the sheets. The gag and rope binding her hands was discarded on the floor while her body had been moved to the bed. You grabbed Sam's sleeve and he stopped as you let out a heavy breath. "Thank you, Sam."

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards for a moment before he gave you a nod. "Help me gather up all the stuff. The sooner we leave, the better."

Your body moved mechanically and soon you were walking beside Sam. He'd opted to park in an adjoining parking lot so he wouldn't draw attention. You doubted that the old, anonymous sedan would draw anyone's interest though.

Sam mercifully kept mostly silent and allowed you some peace and quiet in the car. It wasn't he'd driven about 40 miles that he started asking questions.

"I know it's hard, Y/N. But I need you to tell me as much as you can about the last few months." Sam turned to look at you before looking back at the road.

"I understand." He was right, you swallowed down your dread for what was coming as well as the anguish you'd been feeling.

"Cass and I figured that Dean was sticking with you and Crowley. What has he been doing since you left?"

"It started with bars and binge drinking. Every night."

Sam knew that you had a distaste for bars and shook his head.

You continued to speak softly and looked down. "Then—then they moved to the strip club scene. I stopped going out with them after that."

"Jesus…" Sam had was having a hard time believing Dean would put you through that. "What else?"

"He's still killing. I know that much." You left out the part where you'd caught Dean with another woman. "But that's not the biggest problem, Sam."

"What aren't you telling me?" Sam glanced sideways at you.

You shifted in the seat for a moment. "Dean… He came back different when The Mark of Cain brought him back. He's not possessed but…" You paused and tried to think of how to explain it. "Dean's soul, it's twisted now. He's becoming a demon, Sam. I've watched him changing gradually and—and I'm not sure how much of Dean is left. It's bad, really bad."

Sam didn't say anything. His entire body was tense and you could see his jaw tick. The gears were turning in his brain now and he looked every bit as dangerous as ever. You braced yourself for him to yell at you for not tipping him off sooner. "How bad?" Sam was focusing all of his energy on driving and keeping a low and even tone with you.

You chewed on a nail nervously. "It started with his eyes turning black. Then he just stopped caring about anything really. A few nights ago—" You stopped yourself at the memory.

"I need to know everything, Y/N."

You didn't want to talk to Sam about what went on between you and Dean. That was always something that you'd tried to keep private even before Dean died. You finally spoke with quiet hesitation. "He was having a nightmare. I was trying to wake him up… He threw me into a wall."

"FUCK!" Sam smacked the steering wheel causing you to jump. He shot you and apologetic look when he realized what he had done. "Sorry, Y/N. It's not your fault. I know you did everything that you did because you love him." He attempted a reassuring smile. "I'm glad he had you looking out for him."

"It's ok, Sam. I understand if you're mad at me." You picked at a tear in your jeans. "I couldn't save him. I was practically luggage and I should've tipped you off sooner."

Sam was silent for a moment and you could tell he was trying to think of what to say. "You're not luggage, Y/N. We're stopping at the next decent place with a vacancy sign. Keep an eye out, ok?"

"Sure Sammy." You used this as an excuse to stare of the passenger window and zone out for a while.

Sam seemed to sense this. Less than an hour later he wordlessly pulled off of the interstate. The motel looked about three times better than anywhere you'd been staying lately.

"You can have the shower first." Sam held the door open for you and tossed his bag onto the bed closest to the entrance. "We'll grab some food after you're cleaned up."

You nodded at Sam in thanks. The gestures he was trying to make weren't lost on you. You knew Sam had probably stopped everything in the hopes of finding you and Dean. Depending on how close he had been, it was likely that he hadn't eaten in a day.

You also noted how he took the first bed. It was normally Dean's bed. He always chose that bed so that he could protect Sam and you from anyone or anything that might come in the night. With one move, Sam had spared you from the sting of sleeping in Dean's bed without him and put himself in the protector role.

You grabbed a change of clothes and your knife while Sam was looking away and headed for the bathroom. You startled at your reflection. Blood splatter. It made you frantic for the shower. Anything to get the last… however long off of you.

The pressure was good, but the water was taking too long to warm up. The cold water did nothing to help as panic and anxiety built up in your chest. You reached out for your knife and added two small cuts to your hip. The water finally warmed up as you were about to add a third. Sighing, you set the knife down and allowed yourself to relax under the spray.

You felt a lot better after cleaning yourself up—you still felt like shit, but better than when Sam had found you. You idly wondered if this was the worst few months of your life or not as you pulled on your clothes. Maybe… A flood of memories hit you before you had the chance to shake them off.

THEN

You bolted upright in bed next to Dean. He was awake instantly and rubbing your back as you tried to calm down and catch your breath. What the hell…? I haven't dreamt about them in years.

"Snakes or drowning?" Dean furrowed his brows. Those were the two nightmares from your life that he knew about. Even if you hadn't told him, he could've guessed by your normal behavior. You tried to hide how much snakes still triggered you but could only pull off extreme discomfort and unease. Water… Water caused you to feel anything from an unhealthy fascination that consumed you to trepidation and wariness. You'd gotten good at reading each other's nightmares. There was a clear difference between nightmares about before you started hunting and after.

For you, nightmares about hunting were usually tied to your cycle of calm followed by anxiety and panic. They usually left you an emotional mess and clinging to Dean. The nightmares about your life, however… They had a completely different effect. They caused you to withdraw—even from Dean.

Drowning was something that had happened more than once in your life. The first time was by far the worst. It was on the edge, a marker for the beginning of your life as one of your first memories. You remember being so happy, thinking you were a big girl because Dad didn't put the water wings on you. You played on the first step for a few minutes before Dad scooped you up again. He walked with you in his arms along the edge of the pool. He stopped and suddenly, you were flying before you hit the water. Your body panicked and flailed as water filled your lungs. It got harder to move. You felt scared, cold, and sleepy as your vision gradually faded to black.

Suddenly, you were choking. Everything burned and you started sobbing. Mom was there and looking down at you. She was crying too. You were afraid of water for a long time. You resisted learning to swim until you were eight.

The snakes were a phobia from childhood. You were about four. Mom was busy cooking dinner while also watching your little brother and trying to clean before Dad came home and—

You had too much energy and had been inside all day. You begged and begged to go outside so you could run and play. Mom finally said yes as long as you stayed where she could see you from the window. There were no other kids to play with, but you were practically giddy as Mom zipped up your jacket. It was early spring and there was a patch of dirt you liked to play 'garden' in. You grabbed a plastic bucket and a shovel before gathering up some dandelions. 'Garden' involved you shoving the blossoms of weeds and wildflowers into the ground. The bucket served as a perfect seat while you poked and dug with a shovel.

After a few minutes, everything went wrong. There were parts that you'd repressed that only surfaced in dreams and when you were on really strong medicine. It was part of why you didn't drink. You remembered the angry sounds, the black scales, and the weight of it creeping up your leg and on to your back as you were paralyzed in fear. Fight or flight kicked in… You chose flight as it struck. The snake missed your head and neck but managed to latch on to your arm. You ran, screaming, over 100 yards before it let go of you. You kept running in terror. You were one neighborhood over before Mom caught you.

"Neither…" You were still working to ground yourself in the present and reality.

"Jesus… It's ok, Y/N. You're with me. You're in the bunker." Dean's hand remained on your back while he continued to whisper words of comfort. He refrained from wrapping his arms around you. It would normally be alright if it were a nightmare about hunting because it reassured you that Dean and Sam were fine. Holding you now would only send you into a spiral of panic that even Dean would have a hard time pulling you out of. He made that mistake a couple times and had nearly called Cass for help once. He would have to wait until you nodded or gave him the ok.

It couldn't have been more than five or ten minutes before you gave Dean a shaky nod. His arms instantly enveloped you. He held you against his chest and stroked your hair. Dean's steady heartbeat combined with his hand combing through your hair worked to calm you more. He never asked about these nightmares because he knew they were about your old life. That information had to be volunteered. "Bad?"

You nodded again and he held you tighter in response. After a few moments, you let out a heavy sigh. "I never told you what happened to my Mom."

Dean stiffed and relaxed again. He knew this was your way of working yourself up to tell him a story. "No. You didn't." His voice was low and quiet.

"I was eleven when she died. My brother was only eight." You let your head rest against Dean's chest as the both of you laid back down. His heartbeat would help sooth you. But more than that, you didn't want to see the emotions in his eyes as you told this story. You wouldn't be able to handle the pity, sadness, and eventually anger that would come from him.

"She'd been saying that she wasn't feeling good for a while, but she still drove us to school because this other kid was bullying Andy on the bus. One minute we were fine and then the next, we were in the ditch. An ambulance came. Mom was unconscious. Andy and I were scared, but we just had cuts and bruises. We went to the hospital with Mom. They put her in the ICU, but I didn't learn what that stood for until later. I think they kept us in a staff lounge after checking us out because we were kids and they didn't want us to be alone." You paused. Every detail of that hospital would be seared into your memory until the day you died.

"They called Dad… He didn't show up for a long time. We got to see him for a few minutes before he said he was going to check on Mom and left. Andy was so scared, he kept asking me where Mom was and if she was going to be ok. I eventually told him to wait, that I would find out and be right back. Everyone was so busy… They must've been too distracted to notice me. I passed a few rooms before I saw Mom sleeping on a bed. Dad was inside the room. A doctor was talking to him. I got closer until I could hear what they were saying." You traced designs on Dean's chest with your finger.

"The doctor said a lot of stuff I didn't understand, but I understood a lot too. I understood the part where he said that my Mom needed an emergency surgery or she would die within a week or two. I also understood the part where the doctor said that she had a ten percent chance of surviving surgery." Your breath hitched and the first tear fell. Dean's finger appeared to wipe it away.

"I was in shock and I was scared of getting caught eavesdropping. I ran back to my brother as fast as I could. Andy just looked at me. He—he asked me again if I knew if Mom was gonna be ok." Your voice broke as you kept speaking. "I hugged him and I lied. I told him that I saw Mom. I said the doctors were going to make her better. I told him that Mom was going to be ok soon. I didn't—I didn't want the truth to tear his world apart like it had mine." Another tear escaped and you felt Dean's thumb rubbing the back of your neck.

"Mom woke up before surgery the next day. They let Andy and I go see her so we could 'Tell her how much we love her and to get better soon.' We waited in the staff lounge again for our Dad to take us home. I prayed so hard—" You cut yourself off at that thought and managed to put yourself back together a little.

"We didn't have to go to school for a while. A neighbor kid dropped off our homework. I took care of Andy, but it got hard. Mom felt too sick to go grocery shopping before she went to the hospital and Dad only came home with booze and empty fast food bags… Plus, he only came home late at night and left early in the morning." You remembered the alternating feelings of anxiety, hunger, loneliness, and boredom.

"I eventually took some of Mom's emergency money from the freezer so I could buy some food from the gas station even though I wasn't supposed to leave the house. It was cold out since it was February. The gas station was the closest thing and about a mile one way… When I got home, I noticed a piece of paper on the kitchen table. I thought Dad left a note or instructions for me to do something, so I read it. My Mom wrote down her last wishes on that paper." You had to take a minute to breathe. You hated that note more than anything else in the world. It was the object that crystalized reality and set your future in motion. In desperate moments over time, you'd decided that paper was the object on which you would pin all of the blame for your shitty life.

"I read about how my Mom wanted to be cremated, what she wanted to happen to the few nice things she had, how she loved Andy and me, and how she wanted us to grow up. I put it away before Andy found it." You sniffed and drew in a shaky breath. "I couldn't sleep that night. I'd started getting sick with a bad cough after the accident. I went downstairs and tried to watch TV for a distraction. Eventually, Dad came home and asked me what I was doing up. I couldn't help it, Dean. I just lost it and started crying." You paused for a moment. "Dad just watched me for a minute. I'll never forget, he knelt down in front of me as calm as could be. He said that I had nothing to cry about. Then he told me that if he caught me crying again that he would give me something to cry about." You felt the muscles in Dean's arm stiffen. You were glad you weren't looking him in the eye because he was making a fist right now.

"My Mom loved my Dad—I'll never understand why—but she wasn't stupid. Mom knew what kind of a man he was. She didn't want him to raise us if she died. We were both supposed to go and live with her sister's family—my Aunt Sarah." You smiled briefly at the memory of Sarah's face. She was just as kind as your Mom. "That was fine with me, I loved Sarah. Andy liked her family too. Dad didn't hesitate when Mom died in surgery two days later. We were shipped off to her house within twenty-four hours. And… it was actually kinda nice for a few days. I didn't have to worry about taking care of Andy, my cousins were trying to be nice and distract us so we wouldn't feel sad. Sarah even took me to a doctor after she realized I was sick and found out I was coughing up blood." That weekend was the one reprieve you'd had from the horror story of the last week. You didn't know it would be the last bit of normal that you'd get.

"I was walking to the kitchen to get a drink one night and I heard Sarah talking to her husband. My uncle, he wasn't unkind, he was a realist. I decided to listen because I heard my name and I wanted to know why Sarah sounded so sad. My aunt and uncle already had three kids… They were both teachers, so there wasn't a lot of money. They couldn't afford two more kids. They could only afford to take one of us. I realized that they were going to have to choose between Andy and me. I went back to bed and I made a plan." This part wasn't as hard to talk about. You'd done the right thing for your brother. You didn't want him to be the one that had to endure your father.

"The next morning, I pulled Andy aside. I told him that he needed to be on his best behavior while we were staying there. I told him that even though he felt sad, that Mom would want to see him happy. Andy listened to me. He did exactly what I asked him to. Meanwhile, I worked on my impression of a rude, moody pre-teen over the next few days… They chose Andy and I got sent back to Dad. Sarah made him promise to pick up my medicine so I wouldn't get sick again." You sighed. It made you happy knowing that Andy was safe—for a few years at least.

"Dad was quick to ship me off to his sister. I never really liked visiting Aunt Melinda's house as a kid. I liked living there less. It might have been ok… But she had a son, Steven. He was a couple years older than I was. Steven started out as just being a spoiled kid because he was an only child. As Steven got older though, he got mean. He was the kind of kid that liked to throw rocks at animals." You couldn't help the shiver that ran down your spine. The topic of Steven had always made you feel anxious and left you shaking.

"When I got there, he told me that it was his house and his rules. He said that I had to do whatever he wanted because I owed his family. I told him to go to hell and that I only listened to grown-ups. Steven gave me a black eye as a demonstration. I told his parents that he'd hit me. Steven walked in with a fake apology. He told them that we were playing rough outside and that I'd said that I could handle it. They treated it like a misunderstanding between kids rough housing. Steven was their perfect angel." You debated on how much to tell Dean about him. The last you'd heard, Steven was in prison for manslaughter.

"I managed to avoid him for a few days. I took some more bruises by defying him. On the last night he tried to kill me." Dean lurched up suddenly and looked at you. A thousand different emotions were rolling off of him and he looked like he was about to say something. You silently pleaded for him to calm down. If Dean got worked up, there was no way you'd be able to tell him the rest. He nodded and laid back down next to you.

"Anyways…" You quietly resumed speaking. "I remember going to bed—he was mad at me for some reason... I woke up with a pillow over my face. I tried to push him off, but he was bigger than I was. I used the last of my air to scream into the pillow. It didn't wake up his parents, but it scared him enough to chicken out for a minute. I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in. He talked to his parents before I did the next morning. He told them that I was crazy because my mom died. He cried about how he couldn't sleep anymore and that I kept trying to fight with him. Melinda sent me packing to live with my Dad again. I stayed with him until I was sixteen." Dean didn't need to know about the years afterwards. Hopefully he'd never know.

Dean held you close. You felt him place a gentle kiss on the top of your head. He didn't say anything. Your life from before was something you never shared and it was definitely not open for commentary. Dean knew this was your way of showing love and trust by opening up to him. You could still feel his muscles tensing though and the occasional tick of his jaw above your head. For a brief moment, you feared that this was too much all at once. It was too much damage, you were too broken. Dean finally spoke.

"I love you, Y/N. I'll always love you and I'm always going to be here for you." Dean's whole body relaxed and you could hear him smiling. "I'll be by you side even if it means that I have to haunt your ass."

It was meant as a joke and you appreciated his effort to lighten the mood. "Ghost boyfriend…? Sounds like a bad teen romance novel." You managed a half-hearted laugh.

"You're right, ghost doesn't have the right ring to it. I'm gonna need to think of something more awesome." Dean paused and then mused for a moment. "Spirit… phantom… specter… spook?"

You poked him in the ribs. "All of those are lame Dean." You yawned as sleep started to pull at you once more. "We should sleep in tomorrow, Dean. We'll wake up late, watch Netflix all day, eat junk food…" You started to trail off as you consciousness drifted.

"Sounds good to me." Dean smiled. Researching this next hunt could wait a day. He couldn't give you much, but he could give you a slice peace and happiness with a side of almost normal for a day.

NOW

You closed your eyes and drew in a long breath before opening the bathroom door. "I'll be ready to go as soon as I get my shoes on."

Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone up to his ear. He smiled at you in acknowledgement before continuing the conversation. "No, there was no sign of him…" Sam's eyes flicked up to you. "Y/N, she's—she's… safe, Cass. I've got her with me now."

You felt heat rise up into your cheeks. Of course Castiel would be worried. You really should've called him sooner. "Hey, Sam. Tell Cass I'm fine. I'll give him a call when we get back. I promise." You plastered a smile on your face and hoped it was convincing enough.

Sam nodded. "Right. We're headed out for food now. Y/N said she'll call you when we get back." He ended the call and waited for you to follow him out to the car. "Any requests for food?"

"Anything that doesn't come from a gas station, vending machine, or bar." You settled into the passenger side.

Sam chose a local place that boasted fresh ingredients but seemed affordable enough. He was trying to take care of you again. "So be honest with me. How long has it been since you had a real meal?"

"I had some breakfast at the diner." You fidgeted. Sam wouldn't like the real answer.

"Diner breakfasts don't count. Real food Y/N. Protein, fruit, vegetables—not deep fried, and not processed over a million times." Sam sat down after you took a seat.

"I guess… I must've been before Dean went after Metatron." You were quiet.

"Damn it." Sam muttered under his breath and looked at you. "I'm sorry, Y/N. When I left all of those messages, I never asked about you. Not even once." He looked away. "I assumed that he would still… look out for you I guess." Sam bit his lip. "I really was shocked when I found you alone. And please, don't take this as an insult, but you look like crap. You're like a sister to me. I should've been concerned about you too."

It was so like Sam to blame himself. "It's fine Sam, honestly. I'll be alright."

Sam scoffed and opened his mouth to protest before the waitress interrupted him.

"Do you know what you'd like to order?"

"I'll take a chicken salad sandwich. Water to drink." You looked at Sam pointedly. The conversation was over.

Sam sighed in resignation. "Cobb salad. Water for me as well."

You both thanked the waitress before she walked off and were left in an uncomfortable silence.

"So what happens now?" You crossed your arms over your chest.

"Well, I was going to keep you with me while I kept looking for Dean. Now, I'm not so sure that's a good idea." Sam leaned back in his seat. "I'm taking you back to the bunker, Y/N."

Your eyes widened at the realization of what Sam meant. He wasn't just taking you back to the bunker, he was going to leave you there. You were getting benched again. "No…"

"Yes, Y/N. You're not nearly at 100% and I need you focused if you come with me. They'll be expecting you to be on Dean's heels anyway. I need the element of surprise."

You hated the idea of being left behind. Pent up anger, rage, and sadness bubbled to the surface and you were speaking before you could stop yourself. "Oh yeah? And how well did it turn out for you guys the last time you kept me locked up." Your voice was full of venom.

Sam just sat there with an expression of sadness and sympathy. It was a low blow, but he understood why you were upset. "Dean would want me to keep you safe, Y/N."

The waitress brought your food over and left quietly. You knew Sam was right. "Look, I'm sorry Sam. I'd just feel better if I knew I was actually doing something, helping."

"You can help me try and track Dean from the bunker." Sam was avoiding eye contact with you.

You refused to be deterred so easily. "Look, Sam. I promise—"

"You're staying in the bunker, Y/N!" Sam yelled at you and then lowered his voice as people started to look over. "You're staying there and that's final. Now, you have two options. Let me go and look for Dean while you help me track him from the bunker. Or, I watch you and put you on lock down until Cass is feeling better." Sam was deadly serious and left no room for argument. "What's it going to be Y/N?"

You squinted your eyes at him in anger. "Fine! Dump me off at the bunker."

"You know it's not like that." Sam managed to pull off an expression between irritation and guilt.

You paused and chose your words carefully. "You're right. I know what this is." You glanced up at Sam. He really was just trying to look out for you. "But you'd better bring him back soon. Because I swear, as soon as I'm fit enough to take on Crowley and whatever the fuck else, there is nothing that will stop me from leaving the bunker and finding Dean. I will die before I give up on him."

Sam swallowed and gave you a look of complete understanding. "I know. Me too, Y/N."

You didn't question Sam's words for a minute. He'd proven them to be true over and over again in the past.

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