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Chapter Nine
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"Rosie! What's wrong?" I abruptly sat up in my bed, gasping through sobs, to see Dean fly through the doorway, followed by a very alive, unbloodied Sam, and I simply lost it. Dean paused, clearly uncertain what to do with a distressed mess of a weeping woman, but Sam nudged him aside and sat on the edge of my bed, gathered me into his arms and rubbed my back soothingly. I'm ashamed to say it took way too long to settle down, and once I did I ducked my head in complete embarrassment at my breakdown. I pulled back uncertainly, but Sam was regarding me with kind eyes.
"Current trauma or past?" he queried sympathetically.
"You were dead." I mumbled, "...blood.." He gave me another long hug before pulling away, and it was then I could see Dean was still there, leaning on the door jamb. I wanted to disappear, I was so mortified. "I'm sorry for waking - " but he shook his head at me as if he knew how I felt and interrupted gently but firmly.
"Nightmares are the worst," he said simply. "Never apologize for them. And don't be embarrassed or ashamed. We both get them too. It's your subconscious' way of working through trauma. That's one of the reasons why I wanted to hang around a bit longer, to make sure you weren't alone." Sam nodded his agreement, and I felt tears slip unbidden down my cheeks again. Sensing the need for a change of topic, Sam looked over at Dean then back at me. "Hot cocoa?" Receiving affirmative nods, he slipped out to head to the kitchen. Dean leveled another knowing look at me then followed his brother, allowing me time to gather myself and attempt to wash off the worst of my cry fest.
The hot cocoa, and even more the comfort of the boys' presence, soothed away the remaining dregs of my nightmare, and eventually we all returned to our beds to sleep the rest of the night, thankfully unbroken by any further dreams.
I woke in the morning to the sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen and someone singing slightly off-key. With waking came the realization that I had work today, and that realistically Sam and Dean would be leaving. I jumped at a light pounding on my door, followed by a call of "breakfast," and quickly scurried to get ready for the day. I resolved I would let them leave with a smile and hopefully a fond memory of some lady they had encountered along their long and varied journeys.
Determinedly cheerful throughout breakfast, we kept the conversation on light topics. The guys were in rare form, and I found myself listening to the banter between the two, laughing at the friendly jabs and verbal sparring. I loaded the dishwasher as Dean finished tossing things into one of their duffle bags. I finally turned, gathering my courage and opening my mouth to wish him well, when he asked, "Would you like a ride to work?" Ride in the Impala again? My eyes sparkled and he laughed at the completely anticipated response. So I happily followed them both down the sidewalk and to the beautiful car, dewy in the morning sunlight. Sam insisted I ride shotgun, and I giggled as I watched him fold his impossibly long limbs into the back seat. He grouched good-naturedly at me in response, but it was his own fault!
Pulling up to the diner, I reluctantly turned to say my thanks, but Dean and Sam were both already climbing out of the car. Sam immediately pulled me into a tight hug, which I returned gladly. Then he held me at arm's length and looked into my eyes. "Thank you for all your help, Rosalie. Truly. And if you ever need anything - anything, you call us, ok?" I nodded, unable to speak through the lump in my throat, and smiled. He smiled back, and I took a mental picture of his smiling face to remember in the days ahead. He reclined back against the car as I turned to Dean. He too pulled me into a hug, whispering, "Thank you. Take care of yourself kiddo." Then like his brother he leaned back to make eye contact. "You're a kind and amazing person, Rosie. Grieve, but don't stay there, in your grief and aloneness. It might be time to emerge again…you deserve to be happy and surrounded by people who love you. Let them in." I nodded, understanding, and hugged him again. Then I reluctantly turned to head into the diner, trying desperately to keep the tears from falling. All of a sudden, I realized I had one more thing I needed to know.
"Dean!" I called, and he paused, looking concerned, as they were getting into the car, looking back at me. "Why do you call me Rosie?" His beautiful smile bloomed, echoed across the top of the car by Sam's own fond smile.
"I give nicknames to all my friends," he replied.
My own smile erupted, and I found the strength to wave cheerfully as the Impala growled her own farewell, and they drove off into the bright sunlight. When they rounded the corner out of sight I turned back toward the diner, whispering under my breath "fare thee well, brothers." Seeing an impatient Caro again at the window I remembered Dean's words, and smile undimmed, set off to create my own brighter future.