You aren't entirely sure of how you got to this room. Or why Sam chose to move you both to a different motel than the one you'd been staying in before. (Probably because Dean knew where the last one was.)
You don't know what Sam used to cover you up while he transported you, and you don't remember him getting you into the sasquatch-sized t-shirt and sweatpants you're currently wearing, either. The dampness of your hair tells you that he must have washed all of the blood off of you, but you can't be bothered to care.
He's family. He's taking care of you. There is no one in the world you would be safer with in this situation. Not only are you a dear friend to him, you are also an extension of his brother in his eyes. If Dean is going to recover emotionally from the inevitable guilt of what happened, you need to recover first.
Sam is offering you food now - your favorite: chicken fingers with extra honey mustard - and you don't even know how it got here. Must have been delivered, because you'd damned sure have noticed being left alone.
He urges you to sit up and, in response to the sincerely worried tone of his gentle coaxing, you try to force yourself to eat for him. You get one bite down before your mind decides to lay out the path the food will take through your intestines... The very same intestines that were probably pulled out into view by Dean not too long ago...
You promptly throw up into the trash can with Sam holding back your hair.
Once you finally finish retching and dry-heaving, Sam helps you back onto the bed. You curl up into a tight ball, clutching your stomach protectively, and cry until you pass out.
You only manage to sleep for a matter of minutes at a time. You have a few pretty epically awful nightmares. Each is set back on that rack. Each is more horrible than the last.
The worst nightmare is not any of the versions in which Dean tortures you to death. No, by far, the worst is the one where the spell wears off just in time for Dean to be faced with what he's done, when it's too late to save you, when all you can do is gasp and gurgle on blood and try to tell him with your last breath that you don't blame him. The devastated look in his eyes as he weeps openly and his terrified, panic-stricken, desperate screams for Castiel rip your heart in two.
You wake up calling for Dean and sobbing, and Sam holds you tight, shushing you and promising that it'll be okay.
You give up on sleep after that, reverting instead to your earlier catatonic stupor.
-SPN-
The next time you become aware of your surroundings, it's the middle of the night. Sam is seated in a chair he's pulled over beside your bed. He's sleeping, but within reach in case you need anything. You smile weakly in appreciation of his efforts to help you. He knew that, even if he were to sleep in the other bed, he'd be too far away for your comfort.
You don't know how, but you know Castiel is coming at least a full minute before he appears in the room. It's the only reason you've returned from catatonia - a niggling sensation, like a gentle knock on the door of your subconscious. You wonder whether he alerted you of his presence before coming into view. Seeing the cautious way he is currently eyeing you from across the room, as if afraid to startle you, you think that's probably pretty likely.
Sam jolts awake the instant Cas arrives, and you're thankful for the confirmation of how on-guard he is even while sleeping. It adds another layer to the sense of security his presence provides.
"How is he?" Sam asks, running a hand roughly over his face before shooting you a concerned glance. He obviously needs to know how his brother is, but he's clearly worried about broaching the subject in front of you.
"Dean has just awoken and is aware of his surroundings. He seems to be free of the effects of the spell," Cas offers. He tilts his head, squinting and giving Sam an exhausted look. "He is asking... a frankly overwhelming number of questions," he sighs. "I did not know what to tell him. He wants me to bring him here, but I did not think that wise."
"Good call," Sam agrees. "So... what did you say?"
"I told him that he had fallen victim to a spell that made him a danger to himself and others. That you were ensuring the witch's spell had been nullified before permitting him to return. He is not at all happy with his current accomodations. And, most emphatically, he wishes to speak to her."
He points at you and they both eye you anxiously, waiting for some kind of reaction. You're too exhausted and emotionally numb to give any. You hope they take that as a 'Not yet.'
"Maybe not just yet..." Sam says.
Have you mentioned how awesome Sam is?
"What does he remember?" He asks.
"I do not believe he remembers much of anything that happened," Cas offers. "He is deeply confused and demanded to know the source of the blood on his clothing. I told him that he would need to direct his questions to you. He asked for a phone, but I thought it best that I speak with you first."
Sam looks over at you fretfully, clearly trying to figure out what he should say to Dean. You're not feeling communicative enough to hash out the pros and cons of telling Dean the truth vs. keeping it from him.
"All right. Good job, Cas. You can give him a phone. Tell him I'll call him. Just... do me a favor, if you're up for it? Bring Kevin back here with you. I don't want him alone in the bunker with Dean just in case this thing starts up again, and I don't want to leave her here alone while you and I go back to that building."
You feel two things in response to that statement.
One - overwhelming fear and panic. You're definitely not ready for Sam to leave! What if the spell comes back for another round? What if Dean comes looking to finish the job? What if he gets here and finds you and Kevin defenseless? How can Sam leave you already?!
Two - (as a result of your fear and panic) resolve and your usual strength. You can't let Kevin see you like this!
The thought is as effective as a bucket of ice water over the head to snap you out of your shock.
If Kevin gets here and sees you being a weeping, skittish mess, the kid will be terrified. He'll ask a million questions. And he damned sure can't be expected to protect you. He's the one who needs to be protected at all costs.
Enough crying, enough dwelling on what happened. Dean's chained up and confused, probably working himself into a frenzy worrying about what happened. They're about to leave him completely alone in the bunker. His panic is only going to grow if you dodge him.
It's time to pick yourself up and pull it together.
You take a deep, steadying breath, and stand up from the bed.
Sam stands immediately, staring at you and trying to figure out what you need. You reach over and squeeze his hand.
"I'm okay," you offer. "Thank you."
He looks down at you incredulously, knowing that's total bullshit, but he gives you a hesitant nod in response.
You go to your duffle and pull out some of your own clothes, as well as your makeup bag and hair brush. If you're going to put up the standard-issue hunter's front of being 'okay' after everything you just endured, you're gonna need some serious concealer.
You walk to the bathroom door and pause, looking over your shoulder at Sam. You force your voice to remain steady as you say, "Wait until I get out to call Dean. I'll talk to him."
-SPN-
Castiel has just returned with Kevin by the time you exit the bathroom. The prophet waves to you in greeting, just like any other day, and you realize that Cas and Sam have not told him what happened to you. Also, that your cosmetic efforts were clearly a success.
Sam's phone rings and he sighs. "So much for waiting for me to call him."
"Well, he is sorta shackled up and alone in the dungeon for some reason," Kevin offers as he helps himself to your leftover chicken fingers from the fridge. "Bound to make a guy impatient."
Sam gives you a meaningful look as he answers his phone, barely getting it to his ear before Dean is asking questions.
"Dean... Yeah, I'm fine... Yeah. She's right here... She's fine, too." He gives you a pointed look at that blatant lie, but manages to say it smoothly. "Yeah, I know... Yes... Yes, Dean... As soon as we can... What do you think it means?... I realize that... That, too... It was a spell... What do you mean, 'what kind'? The bad kind... No, I'm not screwing with you, I'm just kind of busy right now... I'll get into it with you later... No. Later... Yes... Fine!... Hang on."
He holds out the phone, mouthing, 'Are you sure?' He waits for you to nod before reluctantly handing it over.
"Hey, Dean," you manage, forcing a smile onto your face so that he'll hear it in your voice. You've been hunting for more than a decade. You draw on every bit of experience in order to fake being 'fine.' You only hope it'll be enough to fool Dean.
"Baby? Thank God," he sighs in relief into the phone. "Are you okay? What the hell happened? Nobody's telling me anything."
"I'm good. How are you feeling? That bitch's spell letting up yet?"
"I'm... fine," he answers hesitantly.
It's obvious that he noted your lack of an explanation.
"I...um...can't remember much," he continues when you don't say anything. "We were about to take that witch down and then... I just... I think I remember stuff, but I don't know what was real and... I mean... I... I can see-"
His voice breaks and the line goes silent for a long moment, aside from the brief rattling of chains. You know he's holding the phone away from him. You try not to wonder why.
When he begins talking again, you don't have to wonder. You can tell he's holding back tears. His voice is hoarse and tense with barely retrained emotion.
"When can I come there? Or can you come here? I just... I need to see you. Please."
You try to keep your emotions in check, but your lips tremble as you hold back your own tears.
So, he does remember something. Damn it.
But he's not sure. He thinks it may have been a spell-induced hallucination.
You pray that you can find a way for him to continue believing that, at least for a little while. You really don't want this to cut him down. That spell hurt you enough for the both of you. If you could spare him even a bit of the emotional fallout, you'd be immensely thankful.
"Soon, Dean," you offer in a strained whisper.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kevin stop mid-chew and eye you worriedly. He looks to Sam, silently seeking the details he knows are being withheld from him.
Sam expertly avoids his questioning gaze.
"What about Cas? Can't he bring you here?" Dean presses hopefully. "He just took Kevin away. Maybe he could-"
You bite your lip and close your eyes. Most of you is dying to get to him, to hold him and tell him everything is fine. But there's a part that is positively terrified of facing him. What if you find yourself instinctively afraid of him now? What if you can't mask that fear? What if you recoil from his touch? This is going to be hard enough for you both to get through without your involuntary reactions adding fuel to the fire. Dean already turns guilt into an Olympic event (for which he refuses to relinquish the gold.) Maybe if you have just a little more time to prepare...
"Castiel had a really busy day," you cut in to answer vaguely. "I don't know when he'll be up for playing angelic-taxi again."
You wish you couldn't tell just by Dean's breathing that he's trying to suppress a sob in response to your avoidance.
"Please, baby?" He whispers desperately, and now, the tears are plain in his voice. "I feel like I'm losing my damned mind over here. Just... It'll only be for a minute. I know you guys have to be sure that I'm really clear of whatever she did. I'll stay chained up. Cas can be here, just in case."
Your heart breaks for him.
Despite all of your fears and hesitation, you hear yourself reply, "I'll ask him, okay?" You don't even realize you're crying until the salty tears roll down your lips.
"Now?" Dean urges impatiently.
"I'll ask now. Let me call you right back." You disconnect the call and wonder whether or not this is a bad idea...