You were awake more, and Dean had trusted that you could go back into your own room, but instructed that you still take it easy. Which you didn't do. You shut and locked your door, and took a shower despite Dean's order to keep it quick. He didn't want your wound opening back up. But you didn't care. Honestly everything Dean was saying to you was fuzzy and hard to take seriously since he kissed you.

You had tried to write it off like it didn't mean anything, tried to ignore that he had done it at all. Which is what he was doing. Or at least you told yourself that. He had been paying more attention to you, but you convinced yourself that was because you were hurt. Because you needed to be taken care of and made sure you were alive.

Sam came around every now and then, but he never fully looked at you. He never talked to you, or made you feel like he wanted you around. Which made you all the more grateful for your room back.

You used your shower time to really reflect on everything. Peter was out, but now he's dead. Because Sam shot him. But the bullet went through Peter and into your side deep enough to cause sever damage. And then, while you were healing, Dean kissed you. Dean kissed you. Dean. Kissed. You.

You couldn't get over it. Couldn't scrub it from your brain no matter how hard you tried. You ran your fingers over your lips, as if you could still feel Dean's touch there. It hadn't been too long since it happened, long enough to still feel the tingle in your legs from it. A knocking on the door brought your attention back to reality. "Uh- yeah?"

"I brought food." It was Sam's voice coming though the cracks. Sam's sad and disgruntled voice echoing into the room. Sam who was just outside of the tiny bathroom you were in. You quickly turned off the shower and wrapped your towel around you.

"Sam?" You opened the door quickly. Hair still dripping wet. You stood in your spot, water pooling under you, holding the towel close to your chest as if that made you less exposed. But this was the most revealed you felt in a long time.

Sam took a step back and cleared his throat. "I uh- I set it down over there on the table." He pointed to the takeout box on the table. "I just- just wanted to tell you it was here." Sam struggled to keep his eyes off of you, tried hard to keep looking away.

"Thanks…" You were speechless. You had rehearsed this long thing you wanted to tell him and now? Now you felt your throat clogging with nerves. Sam turned to leave without a word. "Sam wait."

He did, turning slowly back to face you. Again your throat seemed to clog up. "I just wanted to say I don't blame you. It was an accident. I'm going to be okay." Sam nodded in acceptance and left the room, shutting the door behind himself.

It was then that you realized how in the way you were becoming during this case. Sam had lost himself, risked losing everyone including himself because you were hurt. Dean's words rang through your head and you silently cursed him for it. Kicking at nothing in front of you.

You got dressed quickly but ignored the food in your room and barged into theirs. "So what's next?" You asked, standing the door way. Both brothers were making more bullets and looked up startled to see you.

You held your ground, standing in the door way with your eyebrow raised, you were about to repeat your question when Dean pushed out of the chair and stood, "Y/N, I am pretty sure I told you to take it easy."

"Yeah, but that was before I remembered there is still a coven of witches after me, and probably you both as well." You entered the room now, arms crossed over your chest. You sat on Dean's bed, feeling the springs gave way to you when you did.

Sam shook his head and continued making bullets."Yeah. And they are growing in numbers. But we have a plan." Sam said again not looking up at you. He had an excuse now to keep from looking at you. But you still wanted him to pay attention to you, you still needed him to look at you without the pain his eyes.

"A plan that involves you resting." Dean pointed a stern finger at you. He stood over you, taller now with you sitting down. Not that he wasn't already taller than you.

"Sitting in the hotel alone again. Yay." Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. You rolled your eyes. "Look let me go with you."

"No." They both said in unison.

"Fine but you at least-"

"No." They said again.

Dean cocked his gun inside his car, with Sam following suit. Both men sat looking out over the house, the house they had only been in a few hours before. Sam huffed, "A plan?"

"Kill them all. Don't get attacked." Dean shuffled out of the car, getting to his feet and pulling at hem of his jacket.

"Great plan." Sam said, leaning over the top of the car.

"Its one of my better ones." Dean said with a cocky grin. Sam laughed, but the seriousness of his brother quickly made him realize that he was being honest. That was his plan. "And no getting distracted. Kill them all then worry."

Sam scoffed, prying himself off the car and looking over at the house. It was large, seemed larger than before. Sam sighed, the last time he was in there he had shot Y/N. He shook his head, erasing the memory for the time being.

Sam and Dean made their way as quietly as possible into the house. Not that it mattered. They were immediately met with the forces of the few witches on this floor. Dean didn't hesitate, shooting them with his gun in the chest with a few simple pulls of his trigger.

Sam froze, finger on the trigger as he pointed his gun towards an oncoming attack. But there he stood, his legs shaking under him. The woman attacking him fell back, hitting the floor with a loud thump. Blood started to pool around her and Sam lowered his gun.

"Damnit Sammy. Shoot the witches! Don't just stand their with your dick out!" Dean whisper yelled. He waved for Sam to follow.

Sam looked once more at the body near his feet and knew he needed to get the fuck past his fear. He was killing these witches for you. He was avenging himself for you. Because he wanted you to be safe again, and out of harms way.

Sam followed his brother upstairs, continuing to shoot off at the witches in his path. Dean threw him another clip of bullets, and as quickly as Sam could he reloaded his gun.

So there you sat, twiddling your thumbs on your bed. Alone once again. You threw your pillow at the wall and huffed. You knew it was for the best. You were safe here. You weren't distracting the boys while they fought. You weren't getting shot at. This was for the best.

But Damn did it suck.

You flipped through the channels, stopping at some sappy romance that was on. You told yourself you weren't going to watch it, that you'd find something else to do. But you were roped in quickly. Entranced with the other world.

Finally not thinking about Sam, or Dean. About how Sam wouldn't look at you but how great he was in bed. How his lips felt against yours. Or Dean's lips against yours. About how you felt about Dean kissing you and how fucked up the whole situation felt.

The room was silent, except for the tears coming off of the young girls face on the screen. You yourself were on the brink of letting a few drop at the tension on the screen. Until a hand reached over your mouth and the smell of chloroform.

You woke up in a brightly lit room. You blinked fast, trying to adjust to the sudden white surrounding you. "H-" You tried to speak but couldn't. "Hello?" You finally cracked out. You sat up, rubbing at your eyes. "Is someone there?"

"Y/N, you woke up. Awe it was so peaceful to watch you sleep again."

You veins went cold when you heard the voice, Peter's voice. "But- But. You died."

"I know, I really sold myself didn't I?" Peter sat next to you on the couch, arm over the back rest. "But that little smudge of blood on your head? Those words you thought were just jibberish? A spell. Kept me alive as long as you were."

He sat next to you, perfectly made up like nothing was going on. Like he hadn't been shot and left to die. Like he wasn't a witch out to kill you. He sat with a smug look on his face, a smile so you could see his teeth.

You moved as far away from him as you could. Curling into a ball to protect yourself from him. "And if I would have died?" You asked, hand reaching for you wound. It had been so touch and go.

"Those pets of yours wouldn't let you die." He reached out and pat your leg. "And to be honest I didn't know you were shot. But damn was that a painful ride."

"And now?" You asked.

"Oh I thought I'd unlink us. I mean you still have to die. But it has to be at my hand. And I don't feel like dying." Peter stood, making his way to a table with several lit candles. "Are you ready?"

"No."