A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for being patient with me. AND thank you so much to everyone who left comments! I really appreciate them. Please enjoy, chapter 10!
Dean hadn't told anyone, thank god. He tried convincing you to tell them yourself, but he respected your decision. And you were grateful. Not only that he was keeping your secret, but that you had told him. It was nice to know that if you died someone in the bunker would know why.
Everything was apparently back to normal, according to Jack. Dean was acting like Dean again and you could notice the overall joy in the bunker had gone up as well. Sam was even looking for cases again, something he had stopped doing on his quest to get his brother back.
You had thought that you'd help him search one day and was sitting in the main room on a laptop, when Dean walked in, grabbed a jacket, and said, "Y/N, get up. We're going on a food run."
You looked up a bit surprised. "Um… okay?"
You made your way to join him, but Sam stopped you. "Wait, Dean. I can go with you-"
"Nope. I want Y/N."
Sam turned to you as Dean exited, but all you could do is shrug and follow him.
Dean was quiet in the car and you weren't really sure what to say. The only thing you knew was he was definitely not taking you out to grab lunch.
"You know Sam will realize you're lying when we come back without food, right?"
"We're going to come back with food," he assured you. "I'm going to run out and get it."
You didn't believe him. "Oh yeah?" you joked. "And what am I going to do?"
He smirked at you. "You're going to see a doctor."
Suddenly your face lit up with realization. "No!" you insisted. "No, no, no, no-"
"Yes Y/N! I'm not going to let you slowly waste away in front of my eyes and hurt my brother and your boyfriend needlessly. So, although I think you should tell them, I'll sneak you out and help you get help."
"Dean," you tried again, "a doctor and treatment are expensive. Now, I don't have that kind of money, do you?"
You didn't understand the Winchester boys. They acted like money was never an issue, but you knew that they couldn't be making very much, if any, considering their line of work.
"I'll find it, don't worry about money."
"What about registering? Dean I don't have any identification, no way to prove that I'm who I say I am. You know that they'll ask you questions, have you fill out forms. I don't have a guardian to sign for me or-"
"I'll say you're my younger sister, Y/N. Y/N Winchester. I'm an adult, not to mention my mother is alive, so she can come in and sign for you. The rest we can figure out as we go. If I can fake an FBI badge, I can fake a birth certificate, or whatever else I need. Just stop worrying and talk to a doctor."
You came up on the hospital building and he directed you inside.
"Hi," he said politely to the woman behind the counter. "She has an appointment at 1:00. The name is Winchester?"
The woman nodded and pulled it up. "Here it is. Why don't you just hang out over there and the doctor will get to you shortly," she said with a smile.
You sat down quickly and wrapped your arms around yourself. It had been a while since you talked to a specialist and you were nervous. What were they going to do? Some tests? Just a quick check up? What questions would they ask and what if you didn't know what to say? You and Dean hadn't exactly come up with a solid plan or background story.
Dean sat down next to you and noticing your anxiousness, putting a comforting hand on your back.
"Dean?"
"What?"
Why would you do this? Risk it all on me? Lie to your family for me? Waste all this money for me? For a girl you met a little over a week ago?
"Thank you," you muttered.
"Don't sweat it, kid."
You smiled at your new nickname. Maybe Dean wasn't so bad.
"What's up doc?" Dean asked, as you left the office, followed by your new doctor. Everything had gone smoothly.
"Uh, well, Y/N is doing surprisingly well for someone who's been off treatment for so long. It's still really bad, but the fact that she isn't permanently hospitalized at this point is a miracle."
Dean nodded, obviously listening intently. "She's a strong girl. So what do you say we do?"
"Well, I suggest chemotherapy, but Y/N seems just a bit hesitant. Perhaps we can try immunotherapy or something similar, which we can talk about at her next appointment."
"What are the chances of it working better?" he asked. "The chemotherapy."
The doctor gulped, getting to the part of the conversation that he did not like. "Well, I'm afraid neither are likely to cure her. Y/N's too far gone. But on the immunotherapy I give her about 4-5 months? On chemo I'd say it's closer to 8 or 9. But, I very much doubt this girl has got longer than a year left, no matter what she uses."
Dean's face didn't change, probably because the news wasn't new. You were aware that you would die this way and soon. You waited for his response.
"Yeah," he started. "I think Y/N and I will talk it over and we'll talk about it at the next appointment."
The doctor nodded and that was the end of it.
You sat in the kitchen with Sam and Dean. They were going over possible hunts once again, when it happened.
You doubled over, one hand reaching for your chest. Dean jumped up immediately, obviously having more reason to panic than Sam.
"Y/N, you okay?"
You couldn't respond. You felt yourself leave the room, all the sudden outside. You placed something on the ground, an envelope, with your name on it. You recognized the handwriting vaguely, but as you looked up, you realized that you knew where you were. You were outside the bunker.
As you fell back into the present, you felt Sam's hand on your back. "Hey Y/N. Easy. Come on back."
You shook your head and assessed your surroundings. Dean had a tight face, like he was upset about something, but wasn't going to say it.
"I'm back. I'm fine."
"What was that?" Dean asked. You knew what he was thinking. Clutching your chest, with such a bad lung situation, he probably thought you were facing symptoms or something, but the fact that Sam knew what to do put him at ease.
"Hey Y/N, you still having these… visions?"
You shrugged. "This was the first one in a long time. But hold on, I need to check something."
You stood up and walked towards the door. Sam wasn't sure what to do except stand there and wait for you. You opened the door to the bunker and there it was. A bit dirtier than when the person left it there, the wind no doubt shoved it around a bit.
You picked it up, wiping some excess dirt off on your leg. You walked down the stairs slowly, examining the front, with your name in cursive. You knew immediately where you had seen it before.
"...He connected Y/N and Jesse," Sam was explaining. "At least, that's what we think. What we can't find out is why. But sometimes Y/N has these visions where she's in his body. When that happens she leans over like that and kind of zones out for a minute."
When they finally acknowledged your reemerging to the room, all you could do is hold up your findings.
"This is what I saw. Someone just dropped this off at our door." You turned it over and carefully opened it. "Presumably Jesse. And it's addressed to me."
You pulled the paper out and unfolded it. Both the boys stood, waiting to hear what it said.
"Dear Y/N L/N," you started. "My name is Jesse. I'm 19 years old and a student at a college in California. I'm sorry for the contents of this letter, which will no doubt alarm you, but I'm not an ordinary person either. Recently, I've started having visions, as though I'm looking through your eyes. I know it sounds crazy, but here's what I've learned: I saw a man. He said…" you trailed off as you kept reading.
He said, 'Y/N L/N, you are my daughter and you will do as I say'. I saw you see this… boy and I could feel the burst of emotions you felt: your confusion and love. I've seen you shooting targets and leaping over barrels. I have seen the world through your eyes. And here's the reason I am talking to you. I don't know who you are, or why you're doing this, but I need this to stop now. I need these visions to end. Cause if they don't I will come after you. I've been searching for you for a long time now, and now that I know where you are, nothing is stopping me from coming in there and killing you myself. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but if this doesn't end, I will end it myself.
Jesse Turner.
You shook your head and handed the letter to Sam, "That took a turn for the worst."
Sam skimmed through it and scoffed, "Damn. That kid has always been reckless but jeez. He doesn't even know what you are."
You shrugged. "I don't really think he has to. I mean, all my life I've jumped right into things, assuming that I was always the better man, and if it killed me, maybe I deserved to die."
Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "What? How does that make any sense?"
"Well, I'm not the most careful person, Dean!"
He held his hands up in surrender. "Don't I know it. I'm just saying, just because someone fights harder than you doesn't mean they're fighting for the right cause."
"I was trained to kill angels," you defended. "I think anything I had to kill probably deserved to win, not to mention I shouldn't have survived this long anyway-"
"Hey!" Sam interrupted. "You don't deserve to die, and we're very glad you're still alive Y/N."
You appreciated Sam's sincerity. "Thank you Sam." You reached over and took the note from him. "I'm going to take this and contemplate what I should do about it. I'll talk to you boys later?"
They both looked kind of shocked that you would take off so quickly, but let you go.