Euclid

Contains pieces of Hello, Cruel World S07E02

July 8th, 2012

2:08am

~Bryn Ashford~

I stare at the ceiling of the shitty motel I've holed up in for the night. Another hunt, another dead end. The nightmares keep me awake most nights, this time interrupting the first good sleep I've gotten in weeks.

Accepting that sleep won't come anytime soon, I sit up and stretch my arms. The blue numbers of the cheap alarm clock are flashing; the power must have flickered while I was asleep.I swing my legs over the edge of the bed before rising to my feet. Shuffling through the dimly lit room, I make my way to the bathroom. I flip the switch and squint at the sudden brightness. The girl staring back at me in the mirror is unrecognizable. Her eyes are dim, her skin pale, and her hair disheveled. She looks like she hasn't slept in a year. I lean on the counter and hang my head, wishing I could get rid of the images that flash through my mind at night. I turn on the tap and splash some water on my face, hoping the refresh will help clear my head. I look in the mirror one more time before cutting out the light and exiting the bathroom.

My eyes adjust to the pale light coming from the streetlamp outside as I walk back to my bed. I sit down on the edge of the shitty mattress and rub my eyes.My phone starts to buzz against the nightstand, pulling me from my thoughts. The number on the screen makes my stomach sink.

"No, there's no way," I whisper as I answer it. "Hello??"

"Hey, long time no talk, kiddo," the familiar voice says in my ear.

"Dean??" I stand up. My heart thunders against my breastbone. "What's going on??"

There's silence for a moment, then Dean clears his throat.

"It—it's Sam." He pauses again. "He's in rough shape, and I could use some help."

I scoff, my chest tightening in anger. "Why did you call me then??"

"Because you're the only shot I've got. If I can't get through to him, maybe you can."

I shake my head in disbelief. What the fuck is he thinking??

"I don't hear from you for, what, 4?? 5 years?? And you expect me to drop everything and help you??" I roll my eyes even though he can't see me. A lump settles in my throat, but I manage to choke out: "Don't get me started with Sam."

Dean sighs. "Brynlee, please. You're all I've got. I wouldn't have called if this wasn't serious."

I huff, running my hand through my hair, trying not to pull it out in frustration.

"Where are you??" I ask.

"Sioux Falls. Bobby's place."

I bark out a cynical laugh. "Can't believe he's still kickin'. Well, I'm in Virginia, so it's gonna be a minute before I can make it up there."

"That's alright. Just be careful. Call me when you can."

"Sure thing. See ya, Dean." I hang up.

I toss my phone on the bed and pace. Just when I think I'm over it, the Winchesters show back up to ruin it. A pit forms in my stomach. I haven't seen either of them in person since the funeral. We were still kids. The wounds were still fresh.

I look around the room I'm in and sigh. There's no way I'm gonna get any more sleep, so I might as well start driving.

I change into some ripped jeans and an old t-shirt, throwing one of Rhett's old hoodies over it. I pack everything up and grab my keys off the table. I head out, locking the motel door behind me. I toss my key in the drop box before tossing my bags onto the floorboard of my truck. I climb into the driver's seat and take a deep breath. I crank Riley, my dark green 1972 Chevy Blazer, and turn on the radio, starting the Journey tape that's been stuck in my cassette player for years. I turn the volume down and head out, stopping at a nearby gas station for some snacks and coffee before getting on the interstate.

Time to see what shit the Winchester brothers have stepped in this time.

..

After driving for 7 hours straight, I pull into a motel parking lot in Bowling Green, Kentucky, exhausted past the point of caffeine. After checking in, I unlock the door to my room and almost immediately collapse on the bed, asleep before my head hits the pillow.

After a good 4 hours of sleep, I make a pot of coffee and pour it into my thermos. I check out and hit the road again, settling in for another 8 and a half hours to Lawrence.

Around 10pm, I pull into Welch's driveway. The lights in the front room are on, and I remember it's Monday; I'm just in time for movie night. I approach the front door, gear slung over my shoulders as I rifle through my key ring. The lock clicks in front of me, and I look up, Welch smirking as he stands in the doorway.

"Hey, kid, just in time. We're watching Zero Dark Thirty." He steps aside, giving me the room to step inside.

I drop my bags at the door and kick off my shoes.

"Bryn!! Where have you been, girlie?? C'mere, Rhys made popcorn," Fawn says, leaving the kitchen, two beers in each hand.

I follow behind her to the living room, and everyone's face lights up as I walk in. There's a chorus of welcome homes, and I plop down on the couch between Fawn and Rhys, tucking my legs under me. I take one of the beers from Fawn and a handful of popcorn from Rhys' bowl and settle in. A smile spreads across my face. I'm home.

—

July 10th

7:30am

My alarm goes off bright and early, and I groan, smacking the snooze. The sunlight has started to filter in my window, a stream of light hitting me right in the face. I roll over and sigh, really not wanting to leave my warm bed.

"Bryn!! Breakfast is ready!!" Nash yells from upstairs.

I groan and sit up, then cut off my alarm and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I pop my joints and stand slowly, making sure my legs support my weight before leaving my room. I climb the stairs, following the smell of bacon wafting from the kitchen. I head straight for the coffee maker, where Jason hands me a mug full of my precious caffeine. I pour in some of my creamer and set my mug down on the table.

"Mornin' sunshine," Welch says, patting my back. "Made you a plate if you wanna join us."

I smile at him and pick it up off the counter. "Thanks, Wells."

I head for my spot, and Rhys pushes out my chair so I can sit.

"Alright, give me all the juicy details. Anything good??" She asks, eyes eager for a good story.

I laugh at her.

"Just another vengeful spirit. Y'know, nothing crazy," I say, stabbing into my eggs.

"Aw, c'mon, Red," Nash says, smirking around his mouthful of bacon, "there had to be something exciting."

I shrug. "Not really. It was pretty cut and dry; nothing a quick salt-and-burn couldn't fix."

The boys roll their eyes, obviously expecting some elaborate story.

"What about the other case?? Did you…" Fawn hesitates, "Did you find out anything new??"

I scoop more eggs into my mouth, my throat going dry.

"No, it was a dead end."

A somber hush falls over the table. I take a sip of my coffee, suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on me. I clear my throat and take a bite of my bacon.

"Think I found a case in Michigan. Three young boys went out to their family's hunting cabin for the weekend; one ended up strung up in a tree, shredded. Fish and Game says it's a bear attack, but the boys swear it was something else. No other details were listed," Welch says, dropping a newspaper in the middle of the table. "We'll head out in an hour or so."

Everyone jumps to their feet, piling the dishes in the sink and scattering to their rooms, leaving me and Welch at the table. He pulls out the chair next to me and sits.

"You gonna join us??" He asks quietly.

I push my eggs around with my fork.

"I've got something else I need to do. Got a call from an old friend that needs some help."

Welch nods.

After a moment of silence, he rubs his face and looks at me.

"You can't keep going off on your own, Bee." He crosses his arms and leans back. "You're gonna get hurt."

I sigh.

"I know, I know. I just… I have to do this. For them—for him."

Welch gives me a sympathetic smile. He brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear.

"Running yourself into the ground isn't gonna bring 'em back, sweetie." He takes my hand. "He has plenty to be proud of already; no need to prove yourself."

I hang my head. "Yeah, well, at least it takes my mind off things."

Welch stands back up and pats my back before heading to his room. He knows how this goes, how long it takes for the pain to finally subside, and what it's like to bury yourself in whatever you're doing just to escape the ache for a little while.

I throw back the rest of my coffee and set my dishes in the sink before heading to my room. I repack my bags, replacing the dirty clothes with clean ones and restocking my toiletries. I refill my med case and toss it in. Once everything's packed up, I shower, braid my hair, get dressed, and brush my teeth. With one last glance, I shut the door to my room and head out.

Before anyone sees me, I load my stuff into my truck and pull away, not excited about the almost 6-hour drive I have to look forward to.

—

1:15pm

The rusty old Singer Salvage Yard sign comes into view, and my chest tightens. I stop just outside the gates, mentally preparing myself for the impending reunion. After a moment, I turn in and head down the driveway, Bobby's house peeking out from behind the stacks of junk cars. A familiar black Impala sits to the side, a little bit beat up since the last time I saw it. Based on the toolboxes by the front tire, Dean's been working on it, so it must be a recent thing. I pull into the gap next to Bobby's old Chevelle before shifting to park and turning the engine off.

I can't help but stare at the house, waves of memories lapping at the front of my mind. I shake them away and climb out, leaving my bags in the car for the moment. As I approach the door, my hands start to sweat, my heart racing in my chest. My hand trembles as I reach out to knock, the tarp on the porch behind me crackling as it flaps in the stale breeze.

After a few seconds, I hear a gun cock behind the door. My hand rests on the gun in my waistband as the door opens.

It opens to reveal Bobby, who's gained a couple more wrinkles since the last time I saw him. His eyes widen as if he's seen a ghost.

"Well, you're the last person I'd expect to be on the other side of my door," he grumbles.

"Nice to see you too, Bobby." I chuckle. "Haven't changed a bit, have you, old fart??"

Bobby chuckles and sets his gun down, then pulls me into a hug.

"It's good to see you, kid. Been too long."

"I know, I'm sorry."

Bobby holds me at arm's length.

"I'm sorry to hear about your folks. It's a real shame."

I bite the inside of my lip.

"Yeah, well, it is what it is. Just taking it one day at a time."

Bobby ushers me inside and gestures to the living room, where his big oak desk sits in front of the fireplace. I walk around the corner to find Dean sitting in a chair, unwrapping the gauze on Sam's palm. I hang back in the kitchen area and lean against the door frame, not wanting to interrupt.

"Eh, you'll live. Here." Dean reaches behind him and grabs a bottle of whiskey. He dumps some on Sam's hand, and Sam hisses in pain. "All right, take it easy."

Bobby grabs some things out of his first aid kit on steroids and rewraps Sam's hand.

Dean stands up and takes a swig from the bottle in his hand before setting it back down on Bobby's desk. When he looks up, that's when our eyes meet. His face breaks out in a grin.

The last time I had seen Sam was at Rhett's funeral. That was about 9 years ago; I was 18. Dean and I spent a little more time together, but I lost contact with him a few years after Rhett died, sometime around 2008.

"Brynlee Ashford," he says, grinning, "what a sight for sore eyes."

I push off the doorframe, holding my arms out by my sides. "In the flesh, Dean Winchester. "

He opens his arms, and I embrace him tightly.

"It's been way too long, kiddo." He chuckles. "You're all grown up now."

I pull away from him and smile.

"I could say the same for you, old man."

He grins back and shakes his head as he laughs.

He hasn't changed all that much, if I'm being honest. His hair is short on the sides and kind of long on the top, spiked up in the front. A layer of stubble spreads across his jaw and cheeks. Freckles pop up on his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. His eyes, however, have not changed at all. They're still the brightest, purest shade of green they were when we were kids. His face has a few more wrinkles, deeper around his eyes and mouth, smile lines.

"Thank you for coming," Dean says, dropping his voice down an octave. "I know this isn't easy for you."

I grit my teeth.

"Yeah, you're lucky I like you."

My gaze slides over and lands on Sam, who's looking at me with those damn eyes, the hazel a caramel brown as the sun from the window hits them. I offer a small smile, unsure of what else to do. My anxiety gnaws at my stomach, and I nervously pick at the skin around my fingers.

"Ok, so," Dean sits down on the arm of the couch Sam is sitting on. "How're you doin'?? And do not say okay."

I see Sam hesitate, his eyes still on me.

"I'm not okay."

"You think??" Dean says sharply.

"Hey," Bobby glares at Dean. "Go a little easy."

Dean crosses his arms. "There's nothing easy about it, Bobby, okay. We acted like he had everything under control."

Sam drops his eyes to his lap.

"I get it. I'm sorry. Look, I—I didn't exactly want to crack up, you know??" His eyes flash with frustration.

"What the hell happened??"

Sam hesitates. "Well, it's not just flashbacks anymore."

"Well, then what??" Dean asks, tilting his head.

"It's more like... I'm seeing through the cracks."

"What does that mean??"

Sam's eyes glisten as he looks at his brother. "It means I'm having a difficult time figuring out what's real."

"Hallucinations," Dean sighs.

"For starters." Sam briefly lifts his brows and huffs.

Dean's eyes narrow. "Well, for starters, if you're tripping Hell's Bells, why would you hide that??"

"I wasn't hiding it, Dean, I—I was just not talking about it. I mean, it seemed like you two had enough shit going on as it was. Look, I—I just figured, try to hold onto the safety bar and ride it out, you know?? But it's getting more specific."

"As in specifically what??"

Dean walks over to where he set the bottle of whiskey on the desk. He holds it up and looks at me. I nod, and he pours three glasses.

Sam says something under his breath, looking down at his lap, avoiding everyone's eyes.

"What??" Dean asks.

"Lucifer."

My stomach sinks. This is way worse than anything I could have expected.

Dean freezes as he hands me my glass. I can see him process his brothers words in real time, witnessing the shift in his eyes as it clicks.

"What the fuck, Sam??" He finally barks out.

"I told you."

"I mean seriously, how do you—how do you argue with that??"

"I know. It's a problem."

"Well, now wait, I got it. Why would the Devil holodeck you a whole new life when he could just kick your ass all over the Cage??" Dean crosses his arms.

"'Cause, as he puts it..." Sam clears his throat, his eyes glancing to the side for a millisecond, easily gone unnoticed. "You can't torture someone who has nothing left for you to take away."

"Okay, fine. But this Malibu dream mansion that he-he-he makes for you to take away is this post-apocalyptic mess??"

Sam looks off to his left again and swallows hard.

"Wait, are you seeing him right now??" I ask, pushing up off the doorway again.

Sam looks over at me and nods, eyes full of pure terror.

"You know that he's not real. Right??" Dean asks.

Sam swallows hard and looks at his hands, then back up at Dean, tears glistening in his eyes.

"He says the same thing about you."

My heart drops. I've never seen that much fear in Sam Winchester's eyes. I bite my lip, trying to keep my own tears at bay. I down the rest of my whiskey and pour more from the bottle. I have to walk back into the kitchen, trying to keep my emotions in check. I can feel the anger and resentment dissolving slightly as I start to really process what's happening. An ache forms in my chest, my heart breaking a little for the youngest Winchester. I take another sip of whiskey, a couple of tears escaping, leaving trails down my cheeks.

"Hey, you ok??" Dean asks from behind me.

I quickly wipe my tears away and turn back around to face him. I know he can see the mottling of my cheeks, the pink tinge of my eyes and the tip of my nose, the tears that blur my vision glistening in my eyes. My voice shakes as I speak.

"Apparently, even after everything, I still have a fucking soft spot for your brother."