Defeated and tired Sam and Dean made their way back to the hotel room. Sam kicking the door open with the toe of his foot gently and hearing it slam against the wall. Both brothers made their way in, threw themselves face first onto their beds and sighed. Muscles sore from fighting, tired from lack of sleep the past few days.

Dean grunted, rolling to his back and looking up at the ceiling. Sam hugged a pillow to his chest and stretched. Finally relaxing, finally at ease because nothing and no one was after them. Dean felt his eye lids growing heavy, his breathing becoming shallow, and his mind sleeping into utter nothingness.

The silence in the room was deafening, Sam could hear the steady drum of his heart in his head. Could see his vision starting to slow and blur. He watched Dean's chest slowly rise and fall, the sounds of the TV in the other room the only thing filling the void. Some commercial for some local restaurant echoed off the walls in the room next door.

Both brother's jumped up, looking at one another before they looked at the ajar door to your room. They didn't waste too much time like this, Dean and Sam jumping to their feet and quickly making their way into your room without saying anything. "Y/N?" They asked. Looking around the room.

Dean entered the bathroom with shakey hands, covering his eyes for a moment until he realized just how empty it was. He kicked at the curtain, ripping it out of a few rings from above. He cursed, his voice low and deep, before he joined Sam in the other room.

"She wouldn't have left again would she?" Sam asked, Dean shrugged. He had no idea. For all they knew you were out getting ice. Your TV was on, your bag still over in the corner of the room open with garments spilling out the sides.

Sam bent over near your bed, searching for the backpack he knew you kept under there. Dean opened your containers of food and picked at your uneaten dinner. Sam stood, a single shoe of yours in his hand. "Dude," He started and Dean sighed.

"Who now?! Didn't we kill them all?" Dean said angrily. This time it was Sam who shrugged. "Son of a bitch." He pounded his fist against the table, the food containers bouncing in the air for a moment before settling back down.

Sam sat on your bed, shoe still in his hand. "How do we find her?" He sighed, looking up at his older brother. He was defeated, tired to the core and just wanted you to be safe once and for all.

"I don't know. We took out that whole house. We left no one." Dean paced, his hands balled into fists at his side.

"What if there were others?" The words felt thick when they left Sam's mouth, but he had to ask, had to state his thoughts right now. Because that was how they were going to find you. And they had to find you.

"So we go back to that house? Search and see if we can't find another fucking hide out?" Dean asked, but he was saying it aloud more than asking. He was creating a plan, figuring out what to do, what was needed. Taking control of the situation completely.

Sam was too spent, Dean could see it in the poor boys face. He'd beaten himself up too much over Y/N getting hurt that he had nothing left. He was on empty. A good few days of sleep, food and drinks, and Sam would be back to pretend normal. Dean knew that. But Dean needed to take control of this situation now. Step up like the good little soldier he was.

"Guess so." Sam breathed. He was defeated, and he didn't care who saw. He was worried, he'd never been more worried in his life.

"Just once I'd like a clean cut case. None of," Dean gestured to the air around him, "this shit." Sam nodded, if only the world were slightly more perfect. If only it was find, kill, be done.

You watched Peter light a row of candles, one after another. The table was huge, one that you could easily have lain on and still had room around you. Which was what it was for. Peter blew the match in his fingers out, the smoke rising into the air and disappearing into nothing.

"Almost all ready for you Y/N." He walked towards you, hand reaching out and brushing against your chin. "Its going to be so much fun." He whispered into your ear. Breath hot against your ear lobe.

You shivered, and pulled your face away from his. He didn't pull away though. No. His lips found your neck and he planted a soft kiss there before he rose back to his feet. He wasn't holding you captive like before. Your hands were free in front of you, feet loosely hanging off the couch you sat on.

"Why can't you just go kill Joe the plumber and leave me out of this?" You asked.

Peter scoffed, shaking his head as he towered over you. A hand reached out, fully swinging towards your face. You flinched, but he stopped right before he made contact with you. Again he laughed, deep and loud. "Spells don't require Joe the plumber's heart. They require the heart of the one I love. Or loved in this case."

You're eyes went wide. Both from him claiming to need your heart, and that he loved you. "Oh come on. We had a lot of fun together. Years and years together. You really find it surprising I loved you?" He asked.

"Well, no." You curled yourself into a ball, suddenly feeling insecure about everything. You and Peter had spent a lot of time together, which is why this made it all the more strange to hear it. Or to hear it with all this going on. How could you have never known he was a witch? "I just never heard you say it."

"Don't get used to it." He returned to the table, dipping his fingers into a bowl of water. "Once I found out what my true calling was I abandoned that love. Who knew one day I would need it though?" He turned to you, his eyes softer now. As if the old Peter, the one that cared about you and didn't go around killing people, was showing its face to you again.

You fell silent for a moment, all this was too much to sink in. "And what are you doing?" You finally asked.

"Summoning a god." He said the words as if they didn't hold anything. The words rolled off his tongue like every day words. Like hello, how are you? But they weren't again your eyes widened but he didn't see. He had his back to you as he set a bunch of plants up on the table.

You gulped, "A god?" You couldn't wrap your mind around it.

"When did you get so inquisitive?" He asked, deflecting the conversation. He sighed, taking a step back from the table to admire his work. He crossed his arms over his chest and ran his thumb over his chin. He smiled weakly before his eyes found you again. He walked towards you again, joining you on the couch. "Do you really need to know the answers to this? In a matter of moments it wont matter anymore."

You shrugged. He had a point, a point you didn't want to admit was sort of right. Talking filled the scary silence. Filled the large void filling you. You rested your head on your knees. "If I do this will you leave them alone? You wont go after Sam and Dean?"

Again he chuckled. "Is that really what you want to ask right now? Your final moments and you want me to not go after the men who shot me and killed my family." You peered up at him from your eyelids. Watching his face. He was trying to read you, trying to understand why you would ask him that. But you didn't want to explain, you didn't feel the need to explain to him why they needed to be safe, why he could have you but not them. They were the good guys, they had more work to do. You? You had nothing.

"Yeah." You managed to say, finding yourself looking down at the floor again.

"Fine. For you I wont." He crossed his heart, and held out his pinky. Your thing from years ago. It pulled at the strings of your heart as you raised your pinky to meet with his. He wrapped his around tightly. "But if they come here, if they find me and attack me, I will kill them."

Dean threw himself into his car, sighing deeply. Sam was already inside, feeling just as defeated. They hadn't found a single thing that could tell them where you were. Nothing inside the house mentioned another house, another family of witches, nothing. They had pried every part of that house apart, growing more and more tired with every passing moment.

"What now?" Dean finally asked. He looked over at his brother; dirt smudged on his face, his hands in fists, his lips tight. "Did she take off with her cell?"

A light flashed above Sam's head. "We could track it! Get me wifi." Sam ordered and Dean did as he was told. Pulling the car near a local coffee shop and letting Sam run inside. It only took him a few seconds to come back, a smile on his face and his laptop in his hands. Dean pretended to not be surprised, but he was. He always was at how good Sam had gotten on the internet.

"Okay she's not too far from here. I'll tell you how to get there." Sam said, and Dean listened to every direction Sam told him to go. They pushed past how tired and sore they felt, they needed to get to you as fast as they could.

"Come on," Peter said, pulling you to your feet. You were hesitant, shaky and nervous. But you went, because you had to. It was your duty. And if you did, Sam and Dean would be safe.

Peter helped you climb on the table, telling you to lay in the middle. You did as you were told, stiffly though. Peter climbed off the table, making his way around it and chanting a language you couldn't understand. You kept your eyes open, why you didn't know, but you did.

Peter's were closed tight, he picked up speed but it was like he didn't need to know where he was going; he already knew. His voice grew louder, till he was screaming alone in the room. Even if you wanted to shut your eyes you couldn't. You were entranced with Peter and his behavior.

And then he stopped, Stopped moving, stopped talking, stopped everything. He stood next to your head. Eyes open and looking down at you. His face was blank, no expressions at all. You don't know where it came from, but the knife in his hands glinted at you, shining bright against the candle light.

You closed your eyes tight now, Preparing for the blast that was bound to happen. The silence was too much, the inevitable fear that soon a knife would be plunging into you was making every waking second feel endless. You're breathing quickened, fear coursing throughout your veins.

CRASH

The door was kicked down, slintering at the handle. Peter didn't jump though. He stood the tip of the knife smiling down at you from high above him. Sam and Dean stood out of breath, covered in blood and cuts. Had you seen them any other way lately?

They rose their guns, faces twisted into angry pouts. You sat up, growing closer to the knife but that's not what you were thinking right now. "Stop. Don't kill him. Its okay." You pleaded.

They looked confused, lowering their guns that were now pointed at you. "Y/N? Are you serious?" Sam asked.

You nodded. "I have to do this. If you guys leave he wont hurt you. Go please." You were begging at this point. Peter stood behind you nodding to confirm your words. Dean looked back and forth between you and his brother, his gun still at the ready. Sam had lowered his competely though, at ease and not trying to be threatening at all. He didn't want another accident.

"Y/N, you can't let him kill you for some stupid spell." Sam stepped neared you, and Peter rose the gun. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you Peter, just let her go."

"I can't. I need her heart. Its the only one that will work." Peter confessed. You saw Sam understand why instantly. The sadness in his eyes told you he knew why it had to be yours. You cringed, you were so exposed right now, so out for everyone to see.

"Yeah well I hate witches, and you don't get to bend the rules to spare my life." Dean pulled the trigger of his gun, only to have the bullet stop just before Peter's chest.

"I don't know if I mentioned we are linked. You kill me, she dies with me." He licked his lips in satisfaction. The lie rolling off his tongue. You blinked a few times, transfixed on the still floating bullet in the air.

Dean lowered his gun though, no longer trying to kill Peter. He was defeated, out of options. Sam and Dean both slouched their shoulders. They had no idea what to do next.

An invisible force brought you back down flat on the table, back pressing hard into the wood. You couldn't breath, air no longer filling your lungs. Peter rose the knife again and prepared to stab it into you.

You didn't know when, but Dean had rounded the table and knocked Peter down, the knife throwing itself across the room. Sam kicked it farther and helped his brother, tying something to gag Peter so he couldn't preform any more spells. Dean tied his hands and feet and finally Sam felt safe checking on you.

But you still couldn't move, still couldn't breath, and now your head felt like it was going to explode. You struggled, but couldn't move. "Y/N! Break the spell!"

You could breathe, but you were still clinging to the table to dear life as your lungs filled with air. "Don't Sam. Don't kill him."

"Are you really linked to him?" He asked, his hands cupping your face.

You thought about it for a moment before answering. If you were still linked they couldn't kill him, but if they knew you weren't they wouldn't hesitate to kill him. "Get me off of here." You said through your teeth.

After a few punches and beatings later you were being carried off the table in Sam's arms. Dean wrapped his knuckles up in a piece of fabric. He stepped away, and both brothers watched as you neared Peter.

You weren't sure what you were going to do. Peter spit out the blood in his mouth at your feet and looked up at you with a smile. Showing his bloody teeth to you. You leaned in close, breathing against his neck.

"This is for everything, for the beatings, for the words, for the fear. This is for attacking my friends, attacking my family, and I hope it fucking hurts." You reached out and slapped him, hand hitting his face. He stay stuck like that. Not moving.

You stepped back, reaching behind Dean and pulling his gun out of his pants. "Whoa whoa whoa!" Dean said, reaching out to pull the gun from your grasp. But you were too fast. You pointed and shot, hitting Peter square in the chest. He coughed, and his head went limp.

No one spoke for a moment, your hand still with the gun in your hands. You wanted to shoot again, you wanted to unload the clip of bullets into his chest, but you didn't. You blinked, shaking your head and handing Dean his gun back. He took it, putting the safety back on and shoving it back into his jeans.

"Aren't you- linked?" He asked.

"No. He lied to you. Didn't want you to kill him." You never took your eyes off of Peter's dead body, at the blood pooling at his feet.

Sam approached you, "Are you okay?" He asked, his hand snaking against your lower back. You looked up at him.

"I'm finally okay." You wanted to kiss Sam, the rush flowing through you made you want to take him into the other room and let him have his way with you. But you didn't. Because out of the corner of your eye you saw Dean. Dean who sent a twinge of nausea through you. So instead you left the room.