In my head, I have dreams
I have visions of many things
Questions longings in my mind
Pictures fill my head
I feel so trapped instead
But trapped doesn't seem so bad
'Cause you are here
...
In my heart, I had hope
Built on dreams, I'll never know
Answers to love left behind
...
I can't do anything without you
You give me strength to do anything
I can't be everything I try to
You saved me from the everything I couldn't be
It doesn't mean anything
Without you here with me
'Cause after all is said and done
I still need you here with me
Need you here with me
I need you here with me
Plumb — Here With Me
It'd been two days since we left Jericho. forty-eight hours of the boys bickering on and off like an old married couple over the newly found information we received about John. It was all they could think about. Although I had the most jarring experience in the past ten years on that plane, the only thing that hung heavy on my mind was the whirlwind question Sam threw at me. I found myself zoning out more often than not, partly trying to drown out their incessant arguing but mostly from my own worry. What if I was pregnant? What the hell would I do?
Keeping this hypothetical child was out of the question. I could turn a blind eye to many things, but I couldn't ignore the dangers of this life, this world. It was no place for a baby. And I'd eat my own foot before letting my child become a hunter. I wasn't equipped to deal with a kid, not now—not ever—and neither was Dean. Not to mention John. I had no idea what he'd say, but I doubt he'd approve.
The light yellow walls of the motel room we'd been staying in for the past two days were steadily closing in, especially this morning when the first thing Sam did was bring up their father. Needless to say, we were all climbing the walls and thoroughly getting on each other's nerves.
"He's just– he's doing something important, I'm sure," Dean argued his same point like a broken record. He stood at the foot of the bed I was currently perched on, facing Sam who was sitting at the table. I leaned back on the headboard, staring up at the ceiling.
"What, Dean?" Sam scoffed, shaking his head in disgust as he stared at the woodgrain. "What could be so important that he ignores his kids?"
"I don't know, Sam. But he must have a good reason for it."
"Oh, this is ridiculous," I said and stood, grabbing my boots and slipping them on.
"Where are you gonna go?" Dean asked, shrugging his arms to the side. "We're out in the middle of nowhere."
"As long as I'm far enough away that I can't hear you two, I don't care where I am," I took my jacket on the way to the door. "Let me know when the divorce is final."
"What?" Dean questioned, brows lowered in confusion. I rolled my eyes, swung the dark brown door open, and stepped out into the brisk air. Thankfully, Dean didn't follow me out.
The weather was pretty nice, a slight breeze whipping through the air as the sun beamed in streams through the thin clouds filling the sky. The situation we found ourselves in grew more troublesome with each passing day. At this rate, those two were going to kill each other before we got anywhere near John. If only they would pull their heads out of their asses and try to see things from the other's perspective for once, some issues might be resolved. But no, god forbid they do that.
I could've stopped at the bench in front of the motel, but my feet carried me down the sidewalk until I reached the small convenience store I made a mental note of on the way into town. My heart pounded, a slick sheen of sweat covering my skin. I'd never been so nervous about entering a grocery store before, but I was petrified. When I finally got the courage to go in, I meandered up and down the aisles, trying to avoid the real reason I'd come in the first place. The usually silent blood pumping through my veins thumped audibly, and a faint but high-pitched ringing suddenly filled my ears.
Lost in my own thoughts, I didn't notice anyone walking down the aisle toward me until we collided. The person, a man around my age with light brown hair, gently held my arms to steady me.
"Sorry," I apologized. "My bad," I added, looking up at him. A strange sense of calm overtook me when I met his crystal blue eyes.
"It's all right." He uttered with a singular nod. I was the first to break eye contact, having a feeling that if I didn't, he wouldn't have looked away. Realizing he still held me, I cleared my throat and stepped out of his grasp. The man gave me a small, remorseful smile. "My apologies," he said.
I shrugged it off. "Have a good day."
"...you too." He replied robotically, almost as if he wasn't sure if that was the correct thing to say. I stepped around him, glancing over my shoulder to find the spot he'd been standing in empty. Weird, I thought. He seemed socially awkward, though, and probably just bolted. That's what I wanted to do right now.
The small pink and blue boxes at the end of the aisle caught my eye, forcing me to face reality. My eyes dragged over the boxes, examining each one carefully. I had no idea what I was looking for; I could be here forever reading the fine print, but what good would that do? So, taking a deep breath, I somehow calmed my palpitating heart, which ended the ringing, and I grabbed two of the first box I saw and headed to the checkout counter. Stupidly, I felt the short, round woman behind the register was judging me as she plucked the boxes and scanned them slowly, seemingly taking a lifetime to drop them into a small brown bag. She probably didn't give my purchases a second thought—or maybe she did. I'd never know. I couldn't look her in the eyes long enough to tell.
My hands shook as I dug into my back pocket for my wallet, shakily pulling out the cash to hand to her. I had it in my mind that the moment she handed me the bag, I'd bolt. But I didn't do that. Instead, I walked as calmly as I could to the exit. It was difficult when I only wanted to sprint for fresh air. This shop had become suffocating.
When I got outside, I filled my lungs to capacity and then some. My head spun from the influx of oxygen. And then I realized another predicament. I couldn't go back to the motel, not yet, at least. There'd be no way for me to waltz in like I wasn't having one of my life's longest and most intense panic attacks. For once, I could not pretend I was okay and have it be believable. On my best acting days, Dean saw through me like an open window, but at least there was a barrier I could shut—even if it were transparent. Today there would be nothing. So, I found myself sitting at the park across the street.
A few yards away was a playground. It was the middle of a school day, so no one was there, and my mind ran away with itself. Why did I picture a stroller by my side and a small, blonde-haired boy running through the playground? It was terrifying, so I shut my eyes, trying to rid myself of those images. I must have closed them too tightly, putting more strain on my already shot nerves, because the ringing returned. It was feeble, but there.
When I reopened them, a shadow fanned out in front of me, and my heart sank. I expected to turn and find Dean standing above me with enough questions to choke a horse, but was shocked to see the man I ran into at the store. "Can I help you?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, I–" he stopped, pressing his lips into a tight line. "May I sit?" He asked, gesturing to the other side of the bench. Despite everything I'd learned and being overtly paranoid, I nodded, and he sat down, keeping his hands clasped in front of him. For some reason, that same calm I felt in the store returned. A few minutes of silence passed as I sat there with this stranger, but it wasn't uncomfortable. "Is everything all right?" He asked suddenly.
"I'm sorry?" I asked, brows furrowed.
"You seem… bothered."
"Oh," I mumbled. It was a good idea I didn't head back to the motel if a complete stranger could pick up on my unease. "I'm all right, thanks."
"What's got you so worried?" He asked, not letting me off the hook that easily.
I smiled tightly. "Everything."
The man's brows tucked together quizzically. "Does it have to do with the contents of that bag?" He pointed to the one acting as a barrier between us.
"A little, yeah," I replied honestly, taking a deep breath. For whatever reason, I felt I could pour my heart out to this guy, and I didn't even know why. Probably because I knew I'd never see him again. "I'm just a little… scared."
"Of?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.
"Bringing someone into this world. I don't think I could do it."
"Why?"
"Believe me," I laughed humourlessly. "You don't want to know." The man just stared, silently waiting for an explanation. "It just wouldn't work," I finally said, sounding far more sad than I should've.
"Have you voiced these fears to anyone?"
I cleared my throat, mumbling, "Not yet."
"Are you afraid to?" The man asked, a concerned look passing through the confusion in his eyes. Was I? If I were… pregnant, I don't know how Dean would react, but I knew he wouldn't be happy. Neither would I, not really.
"Kind of."
"Would you be in danger if you did?" He asked, the protective layer in his voice catching me off guard.
"Danger?" I repeated in shock at his assumption and shook my head. "No. No, it's not like that."
"Then… what is it like?"
"It's complicated," I insisted. I wasn't about to tell them the things out there; that would be taking this harmless conversation twenty steps too far.
"Do you wish to get out of this life you're leading?"
"Sometimes," I admitted, playing with my fingers to distract myself from the heaviness of this conversation. "But I know Dean–" I looked up at him. "My boyfriend," I clarified, "Wouldn't want to do that."
The man's brows tucked down quizzically. "But if he cared for you, wouldn't he do anything?"
"Well, yeah, he would, but I wouldn't want him to be unhappy so that I could be happy. That's not fair."
He thought for a moment, still looking a bit perplexed. It was almost like he'd never spoken to another person before. "So, either way, only one person is happy." He finally said.
"Well, no," I was quick to correct. "I'm happy either way."
The man nodded, glancing up at the sky before looking back at me as he stood. "Well, I should get going."
"Okay," I nodded. He seemed to mean well, but God was he strange. Still, I felt bad for taking his time. He started to walk away when I stopped him. "Hey, sorry for bothering you with all that."
"You didn't bother me. And I think you should know… everything will be just as it should," he said confidently.
I smiled hesitantly. "How do you know that?"
"I just do."
Although the cynical part of me wanted to dismiss his claim, I couldn't seem to. Surely he was just being nice, trying to comfort a stranger that took too much of a liking to him. I was one-hundred-percent reading too far into it, but something told me to trust him.
Thinking over our conversation, I realized I didn't get his name and turned around, about to ask him for it, only to find that he was gone—nowhere to be found, as though he'd vanished into thin air. How was I so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't even notice him leaving? Whether I wanted to or not, that certainly was a sign that it was time I headed back.
When I arrived at the motel, Dean was exiting the room with his jacket halfway on, headed for the Impala. I hurriedly tucked the small bag into my back pocket so he wouldn't see it. "Dean!" I called across the lot, stopping him. Even though he was far away, I could see relief coating the worry etched on his face. He sprinted over and pulled me into his arms once he got close enough. "What's the matter?" I asked, voice muffled by his chest.
"I tried calling you, so did Sam; you didn't answer. I was just about to go out and look for you."
I chuckled, pulling away as far as he'd let me. "Dean, I was only gone about a half hour."
"A half-hour?" He scoffed, sporting an expression that said I was insane. "Try three."
My eyes went wide. "What?"
"You were gone for three hours. And whatever, if you wanted to, but you gotta let me know you're okay–" he spiraled. "Because after–"
"Dean," I stopped him, knowing what he was going to say: after everything with that demon… I just didn't need to rehash it right now. "I'm okay. My phone didn't even ring," I pulled it from my pocket. It was on, but there were no signs of any missed calls. "Maybe there was no signal?"
Dean still held me, looking down into my eyes with a healthy mixture of concern and suspicion swirling in his. "Nothing bad happened, right?" He pressed, inspecting me for any injuries.
"No, Dean." I stilled his hands fluttering around me before they somehow reached my pocket. "Dean. Nothing happened. I went to the store to walk around and sat in the park across the street for a bit. I didn't think I was there that long." I sounded like I was up to something. That's what he thought; I could see it in his eyes. "Look, with everything going on, I just lost track of time, that's all," I insisted.
Dean nodded slowly, finally letting go. I could see the questions in his eyes as we walked back into the motel together but chose to ignore it. As soon as we entered, Sam stood from his bed and crossed the room, pulling me into a hug. "Oh, thank god. Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine," I pulled out of his grip. "God, you guys were really worried, huh?" I teased, walking away from them, trying to put the small brown bag in with my toiletries discreetly. I know Sam saw it, but he didn't say anything. And if Dean did, he didn't let on.
"He started freaking out the moment you closed the door," Sam jutted a playful finger at Dean.
"I did not!" Dean argued sternly, voice softening when he turned to me. "I didn't."
"Were you worried about me?" I asked with an exaggerated pout.
Looking into my eyes, Dean relented. "Of course I was."
"Aww," Sam cooed. Teeth grinding together in annoyance, Dean grabbed a pillow and chucked it at his brother. Sam dodged it, of course, and it landed on the ground with a thud. "You're so immature," he complained, picking up and dusting off the pillow before plonking it down onto the table.
"Hey, why don't you make yourself useful and get some food," Dean suggested, shooing him away. "I need some alone time with my girl," he added with a smirk, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him.
Sam grimaced. "I'll be back in a few," he grabbed the keys off the table, grumbling, "I need to get my own room," as he left.
The lustful grin Dean wore seconds before flattened, and his expression turned serious. I did not expect it, and it threw me for a loop. "What's the matter?" I asked, growing concerned. Dean got up without a word and walked around the other side of the bed. I knew exactly what he was going for. "Wait, hold on," I called, to no avail. He ignored me, taking out the brown paper bag and opening it.
"Were you planning on telling me about this or what?" Dean asked with a tilted eyebrow, lifting the box pointedly.
"Yes!" I asserted and cleared my throat. "... after."
"After?" He repeated incredulously, letting his hand fall to the side. "Why would you wait and tell me after?"
"Only if I had to," I admitted, clamping my lips together when I realized what had just slipped out of my mouth.
"Oh!" Dean exclaimed with faux relief. "That makes it so much better." He balled up the bag and tossed it into the trash. "Why did you think you had to shoulder this by yourself?"
"I didn't want to worry you over nothing."
Dean sighed and came back to sit beside me. "This isn't nothing, Tor."
"I know," I mumbled, looking down at my feet.
"What made you wanna do this?" He nodded to the test still in his hands.
"Sam kind of brought it up."
Dean rolled his eyes and leaned back in exasperation. "Oh, what is he a doctor now, too?" He questioned sarcastically.
"He's got a point, Dean. I've been all over the place. You know, it makes sense."
"None of this makes sense," he grumbled. I could see the gears turning in his mind, attempting to sort through everything I already had.
"Tell me about it," I agreed with a nod.
Dean's knee bounced, shaking the mattress beneath us. "Okay," he began, letting out a fast breath. "Let's do this."
"Now?" I asked, taken aback.
"Sam's not here to butt in with his two cents," he shrugged, putting on a brave front. "Good a time as any."
"Yeah, all right," I said. I wasn't ready, not by a long shot, but it had to happen. Dean stood and held out a hand for me. I took it, allowing him to pull me to unsteady legs. He handed me the box, and I gave him a weak smile, forcing my feet to carry me to the bathroom. I was about to close the door when Dean started to walk in. "Dean!"
He stilled. "What?"
"What are you doing?"
"I thought we were doing this together!"
"Yeah, like, metaphorically. I mean, do you really want to watch me pee on a stick?"
Dean cringed but recovered quickly. "Well, if my being there will help you feel better… then yes, I do."
"It would not," I gently shooed him away. "Thank you, though."
I allowed almost all my nerves to show through with the door between us. I still had to reign it in somewhat, or else my trembling hands would drop the box, and the test inside would clatter to the floor or plop into the toilet. And the last thing I needed was to shuffle back into that damn store. Thankfully, I powered through with little to no issues. Once I was done, I placed the test on a tissue atop the counter and washed my hands, careful not to make eye contact with the little pieces of plastic that held enough power to change my entire life forever. After I dried my hands, I leaned on the sink and shut my eyes. Please, God… if you're even listening. Don't let me be pregnant.
Reopening my eyes, I pushed my hair out of my face and stared at my reflection. My gaze held more nervousness than I thought I was letting on, my normal light blue tainted by a sickly teal.
Unable to look at myself any longer, I left the bathroom, finding Dean sitting at the foot of the bed with his arms resting on his knees and his head hanging down. When he heard the door open, his head snapped up, and he watched me as I made my way to the bed. "So… what do we do now?"
"We wait," I said, sitting down.
"How long?"
"A few minutes."
Dean nodded, snaking an arm around my waist. He pulled me close, and I rested my head on his shoulder, trying to focus only on the feeling of his thumb absentmindedly stroking my side. "Were you scared to tell me?" He asked out of the blue.
I sighed. "A little."
"Why?"
I lifted my head to look at him. "I didn't want to freak you out."
He scoffed. "I'm sure you're plenty freaked."
"Yeah," I chuckled humourlessly. "You know, everything with John, and–" I stopped that train of thought. "There's just too much going on." The same nagging question kept repeating until it bubbled from my lips. "What the hell would we do?"
Dean swallowed hard, his movements stilling. "I don't know," he admitted. "We'll cross that bridge if we get to it."
When the allotted time was up, Dean volunteered to retrieve the test. I gripped the end of the mattress, my nails digging into the light blue comforter. I waited with bated breath for the results. My anxious mind had stopped racing, which was surprisingly more unsettling than the incessant thoughts. The silence was deafening.
"Uh–" Dean stepped out of the bathroom, peering up at me from the tissue-wrapped test. "One line?"
Despite having prayed not to be pregnant, despite knowing I couldn't be—my heart broke. I was relieved, of course, that outweighed everything. The sting of disappointment only lasted a second; I just wished I didn't feel the needle pierce through my heart as it stitched itself back together. The dam I'd been building to ward myself from this subject cracked and broke, allowing the tears I wanted desperately to keep at bay to flow. Even though he was pale and unsure of the answer, Dean tossed the test onto the dresser and crouched in front of me.
"I'm not," I told him quietly. He tried to mask it for my sake, but I could see the relief shining in his eyes.
Dean tucked my bangs behind my ear and wiped the tears off my cheeks. "Are you okay, Cherry Pie?"
"Yeah."
"Are you sure?" He pressed, unconvinced.
"Yes," I sniffled. "I'm sure."
"You don't seem sure," he eyed me carefully. "You seem upset."
"No. Not really," I insisted. Dean raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Maybe a little bit," I breathed. "But that's stupid. We can't and– and I know that you know?"
Dean's eyes darted between mine. "But you want it."
"No." It was true, partly.
"Tor, tell me."
"I love you, Dean," I ran my fingers through his hair. "Part of me is always gonna want that," I smiled. "But that can't be our lives. And I'm okay with it."
The hand Dean was using to stroke my arm stopped. "Tor—"
"We're not cut out to be parents," I interrupted. I didn't want him to worry needlessly. "It wouldn't be fair for anybody." Before either of us could say anymore, the Impala's car door was shut rather loudly—no doubt done purposefully by Sam to signal his impending arrival. It made me smile, but Dean was tense; something was wrong. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing." Although he shook his head and tried to seem indifferent, his eyes spoke volumes. This had shaken him, and he didn't buy my answer for a second.
"Baby, it's all right, really," I insisted. I just wanted him to believe it. "I wouldn't lie to you."
"I know," he murmured. Telling him I was okay wasn't enough, so I decided to show him by pressing my lips to his. At first, he was restrained, but that didn't last long. The key entering the doorknob burst our little bubble, and we parted.
Sunlight streamed through the cracked door. "Please tell me you guys aren't naked," Sam said tentatively.
Dean rolled his eyes, using my knees to push himself to his feet. "We're decent," I laughed.
Relieved, Sam entered the room with a bag of take-out in his hands, putting it on the table. "Everyone good?" He asked, picking up on the tension in the room.
As I opened my mouth to answer, I spotted the pregnancy test sitting on the dresser. My eyes went wide, and I quickly got up. My sudden movement confused Dean until he realized where I was headed.
"What'd ya get?" He asked Sam, pushing him out of the way so he could inspect what was in the bags to distract him while I wrapped the test in some tissue and tossed it into the garbage. Dean opened one of the sauces and dipped his finger in, swirling it around before sticking it in his mouth.
"Same thing I always get– Dean, stop!" Sam exclaimed suddenly when Dean stuck the same finger back into the container. I plucked the box off the bathroom counter and stuffed it into my back pocket. I could dispose of it somewhere Sam couldn't find it. It was one thing for him to have suspicions but entirely another for him to have proof of those suspicions.
"What?" Dean shrugged, feigning stupidity.
Sam sneered, grabbing the container from his brother. "You're gross; you know that?" He complained and looked over at me. "I don't know how you deal with him."
"I have extreme patience. It's a gift," I shrugged and casually leaned against the dresser to let Dean know the coast was clear. He winked at me and sat down, reaching for his food. Sam slapped his hand away.
"No, you're not slobbering all over anything else," he ordered.
As I stood there, watching these two grown men fight like children, I realized something… despite the daily hardships and uncertainty, I was happy. And this? This was exactly how it should be.
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