I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader] Book 2

Bite

This chapter features flashbacks in italics. Some suggestive themes are included.

I thumbed through the pages of one of Bobby's many dusty old tomes that were scattered around his living room. The pages were coarse on my fingers, old and flaky and the ink was so worn in some spots it was impossible to tell what was said. My fingertip traced over the tightly scrawled words remarking on demons, deals, and even something called a 'Prince of Hell.'
For what felt like the millionth time that afternoon, I snuck a glance at Dean. He had been asleep for a while now, thankfully – with the deal looming over all of our heads, he had hardly slept in days. I didn't have the heart to wake him, despite knowing he would be hard on himself when he realized he had fallen asleep.
A sigh escaped me as I turned back to my book, eyes skimming the words but not taking anything in. All of us were fighting for a solution that didn't result in any more lives. No more deals, no weird spells, no demonic assistance. Dean wanted a clean break – do it right, or don't do it at all.
It was so frustrating.
With only thirty hours remaining, we were grasping at straws. No amount of reading would get us the solution we wanted with so little time remaining. I snapped the book shut and buried my head in my hands, nails raking against my scalp. Too much was happening at once.
I felt like I didn't have any control. Not with Dean's deal, not with this case (if you could even call it that.) No control over my own emotions, the opinions of the people around me. No control over my pack, how they viewed me, how they viewed our situation.
Caeden and Marcus were gone. Gone to the midwest somewhere with about twenty-five others. Enough that we could thin our numbers at camp and have enough food to last through the winter. I heard from them regularly over the past... four months? Four months that they had been gone with some of our more nomadic pack members. Moving from place to place despite Caeden's reluctance. But it's what he and Marcus knew best – Marcus certainly preferred the movement to our stagnant pack life. Perhaps that's why he volunteered for monster hunting so often.
They had met others. Small groups that came and went, some that stayed for longer than others, some that stayed for just the night. Most knew our reputation already. They lingered for a time, watching, waiting to see if the rumors were true. Finding that life wasn't nearly as exciting as the rumors of bloodthirsty monster hunters suggested, they moved on.
For the first time in months, Calliope and Gator had made an appearance. The pair visited Marcus and Caeden for a time, as far from Cal's creator and false siblings as they could get. Cassandra was quiet on the home front. She listened closely and spat spiteful words around the fires at night, but she made no moves to start a fight. The hairs on my neck rose whenever I passed her, feeling her cold gaze on my skin. The unsettling woman was relentless in her passive aggressive torment.
All was quiet and calm, and yet I felt as if things were spiraling out of control. The white wolf had been quiet, going as long as a month without speaking to me. Once, I might have been relieved that he was radio silent for the first time since we met face to face in the hospital after John's possession. Now, it felt wrong. I desperately wanted information, only to be met by a brick wall. He seemed to know more about this coming demonic war than anyone, knew more about our species, about my abilities. And yet his muzzle remained wired shut. I huffed out an irritated breath.
Dean shifted beside me and I tensed, watching with bated breath. Had I woken up? I hoped to God I hadn't – he desperately needed what little sleep he could get. Despite what he thought, a mere two or three, occasionally four, hours of sleep a night was not sustainable. But, if it meant he would beat this deal, he was more than willing.
I reached out hesitantly, my hand hovering over his back. His fingers twitched from where his palm rested on the table beside the book. His brows furrowed in his sleep, expression tense. Often, I wasn't sure if he was doing this for himself, or for us. I knew he didn't want to die just as much as we didn't want him to succumb to the deal, but I didn't know if it was his own survival that he kept fighting for, or if it was our own piece of mind. Was he just doing it to keep Sam from making the same mistake everyone else in their family had? Was he doing it to appease Bobby and I?
A sigh escaped me. Perhaps it was a mix of all of the above. Or perhaps he had his own agenda. I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts. Dean didn't keep secrets. He was as open and honest as it got; with me, at least. My brows furrowed in thought. As far as I knew, he was honest with me.
Sam's footsteps on the stairs roused me from my thoughts. I pulled myself hurriedly to my feet as he rounded the corner, entering Bobby's cluttered living room. At that moment Dean sat suddenly upright, eyes wild. He drew in a sharp gasp as he stared down at his hands, pressed firmly to the book, open to a page on hellhounds.
"You alright?" I answered as I dropped back down into the seat, a hand on his shoulder. Nightmares weren't uncommon anymore, for any of us. Not with this looming stress over our heads.
Dean nodded and inhaled slowly. He shut the book and placed his head in his hands. "I'm fine. Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you haven't slept in days, dipshit," I scoffed and leaned back in my chair, arms folded over my chest. "Haven't found anything good. Some old text saying Lilith is the first demon, not that it helps us at all," I grumbled to Sam.
"First demon?" Dean asked, fingertips finding my open book as he slid it closer to him, giving the pages a brief inspection.
"Adam's first wife. She wasn't as complacent as God wanted apparently," I said with a shrug. "Don't know how much truth there is to it, but it would explain why Sam's demon friend is so scared of her." Sam scowled at that as he approached the table, looming over Dean and I. "You and Bobby find anything?"
"Yeah, a way to find Lilith."
I sat bolt upright at that, leaning forward on my elbows to watch Sam with interest. Dean let out a chuckle beside me and I snuck a glance his way.
"Great, and with just, uh," he looked at his watch. "Thirty hours to go. Great. Look, why don't we just make a TJ-run, yeah? You know... some senoritas, cervezas, uh, we could..." he leaned towards me and whispered, "What's Spanish for 'donkey show?'"
"Uh, esel... mostrar? I think?" I whispered back. Dean nodded appreciatively and leaned back in his seat once more.
"Esel Mostrar!" he proclaimed excitedly, extending his hands towards Sam, a cheesy grin adorning his lips. I let out a snort of amusement.
"Esel is German," Sam corrected with a lopsided grin.
Dean turned to me with a shrug and a sly grin. "Esel is German," he repeated with a whisper.
Sam chuckled and pulled out the chair opposite to us at the table. "If we do manage to save you... let's never do that," he said with a soft smile as he sat down. Dean smiled back, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. I reached for his hand beneath the table, lacing out fingers.
"I know we're cutting it close, Dean, But we're gonna get this done. I don't care what it takes, Dean. You're not gonna go to hell. I'm not gonna let you."
Dean's grip on my hand tightened for a fraction of a second as he stared at Samin silence. He finally relaxed his grip although the tension never left his shoulders. "Yeah... OK," he uttered softly, dropping his gaze back to the book in front of him.
—
For the millionth time that day I met Dean's heated gaze in the rearview mirror. Days on the road, case to case, was getting exhausting – bashings heads and raising a little hell wasn't as fun as it initially sounded. I smiled sweetly, earning a discreet wink. My gaze flicked to Sam in the passenger's seat, an open book in his lap and a flashlight at the side, ready for use now that the sky was darkening.
I was beyond relieved when Dean pointed out a motel sign in the distance – only 25 more miles and we could stop for the night before leaving early again in the morning for a ghoul hunt in eastern Nebraska.
My cheeks reddened as I looked away from his gaze in the mirror, a shy smile on my lips. My heart fluttered. He was looking at me like that. And better yet, I was the only one he wanted to look at like that.
The Impala slowed to a halt in the parking lot. The motel was at the edge of a larger city, the tall neon sign advertising open rooms and a 6am breakfast. I slipped out of the car on the side opposite Sam as Dean trudged across the lot to the front office. The taller Winchester and I began dragging items from the trunk of the Impala, taking only what we needed for the night and leaving the rest in the hidden compartment.
I stretched languidly, careful of my bandages covering still healing wounds. My shirt rode up, an old Motörhead shirt that Dean still had lying around. He had practically tossed any old items he had at me upon hearing about the state of my old home and therefore my wardrobe. I rolled my wrist, feeling a satisfying pop from the damaged joint.
When I finally opened my eyes again I was met with the sight of Dean passing a set of keys to Sam while he took his own small bag in exchange. His eyes weren't on Sam, instead fixated on my briefly exposed waistline. Upon seeing my wide grin he turned sharply back to his brother and the pair meandered towards their room. Sam jangled a set of keys at me before tossing them my way.
My own room? I snuck a glance back at Dean only to see a grin plastered on his lips. Any other time, my own room wouldn't be odd. But tonight, with the stares he had been giving me...
I smiled and made my way to my room number, a few doors down from theirs.
I groaned as I shut the door behind me, relieved to finally be in my own quiet space for the first time all day. I dropped my bag onto the single bed and dug inside of it for a change of clothes and new bandages. Items in hand, I stumbled sleepily to the bathroom, placing the items on the countertop.
The sound of the motel door creaking open and a familiar scent drew a smile to my lips. "Bathroom!" I called, listening as Dean's footsteps neared.
"Hey," he greeted, leaning against the doorframe. My grin widened as I placed my palms flat on the counter and lifted myself, taking a seat upon the cold surface.
"Hey," I answered. "Sam already asleep?"
"Out like a light," he answered. I hummed in response as he krept closer until he was standing in front of me with one hand on my knee. "I like these shorts," he stated, fingertips playing with the frayed edge of the cutoffs.
I chuckled softly as my fingers found the edge of the wrapping on my arm. "I could tell," I teased as I found the edge and began unraveling it. Dean was quick to find the fresh bandages, inspecting the scratch marks closely before rebinding them. "Starting to look better," he murmured as he reached forward, hand cupping my jaw as he tilted my head from side to side to inspect the gouges on my neck. "Yeah. A lot better." A devious smile twitched on his lips as he pulled down the collar of my shirt, revealing a small purple bruise below my collarbone. "That looks good, too," he teased.
I swatted at his arm playfully, fixing him with a scowl. "Hands to yourself, Winchester," I ordered as I pointed an accusatory finger at him. He took a step back and raised his hands in the air in mock surrender.
I teasingly narrowed my eyes as my hands gripped the hem of my worn shirt, the black fabric now more of a washed out gray after years of wear. His brows rose as I dragged the thin fabric over my head and tossed it onto the floor.
"You're cruel," he answered with a near whine. I laughed as my fingers found the edge of the bandage around my ribs, quickly unwrapping to expose the pink and yellow tinged gauze pad beneath. I peeled that pad back and gritted my teeth, watching as Dean reached for a new one. He applied it quickly and reached for the wrappings once more, carefully twisting it around my ribs to keep the patch in place.
My fingers gripped the bottom of his own shirt as he worked, skilled fingers moving easily over the bandages. I stared down at my legs, dappled with scars and bruises that marred the once perfect skin.
A kiss to my temple roused me from my thoughts as his hands found my hips, the task finished. "Makes you look tough," he uttered against my hairline before pulling away. I grinned as I pulled him back towards me by the front of his shirt, only to tug it upwards.
He pulled the fabric the rest of the way over his head, dumping it on the floor beside mine. My fingers found his necklace, rolling the little gold horned creature between my index and thumb. "Now we're even," I said as I gazed up at him from beneath my lashes.
Dean only hummed in response as he dipped down, lips finding mine in a gentle kiss. It was barely there, the ghost of a touch. Just testing the waters. I grinned and reached one hand up to cup his face, bringing him closer. He sighed contentedly, grip tightening on my hips.
"I need-" I mumbled between soft kisses, growing steadily more persistent. "- a shower."
"Convenient," he said before dragging my bottom lip between his teeth. He released it and pressed another quick kiss to my lips as his hands found the waistband of my shorts. "So do I."
—
I watched with curiosity as Bobby swung the pendulum of his contraption, the point dangling everal inches about the map of the United States he had laid out on the table. "All you need is a name," he explained as he watched the pendulum swing back and forth, searching for Lilith's location. "Right spell and right name, and there's nothing you can't suss out."
The pendulum jerked to a sudden stop, becoming rigid at an odd angle. Bobby traced the angle to... somewhere in Indiana, it looked like. "New Harmony, Indiana," he declared proudly and took a step back to gaze upon his handiwork. I extended my fist to him which he happily bumped with his own.
"Right, let's go then," Sam said, turning away from the table. I jumped at the suddenness of his statement, watching him with wide eyes. Dean lunged forward, catching his brother by the shirt sleeve.
"Woah, woah, woah! Let's slow down there, Tex," he ordered, fixing his brother with a stern gaze.
"What's the problem?"
"What's the problem?" Dean scoffed. "Come on, where do I begin? I mean, first of all, we don't even know if Lilith holds my deal. We're going off of Bela's intel? Now when that bitch breathes, the air comes out crooked. Second, even if we could get to Lilith, we have no way to gank her. And third, isn't this the same Lilith that wants your giant head on a pike? You want me to continue?" I frowned at his words. He had a point.
"We need a plan before we go in guns blazing," I chipped in, earning a nod from Dean.
"Just 'cause I gotta die doesn't mean you have to, OK?" He declared. I winced. "Either we go in smart or we don't go in at all."
"Fine. Then I've got a solution," Sam snapped back, straightening his shoulder confidently. "A sure-fire way to confirm it's Lilith and a way to get us a bona fide demon-killing ginsu."
It took the three of us a moment to catch on to what he was saying before Dean spluttered out a hasty, "No!"
Sam huffed and turned his back to Dean, calling over his shoulder as he strode towards the basement. "We are so passed arguing Dean. I'm summoning Ruby."
"Like hell you are!" Dean shouted, freezing Sam in his tracks who turned towards his brother with surprise. "Come on man, she is the Miss Universe of lying skanks! She told you that she could save me – lie. She seems to know everything about Lilith but forgot to mention, oh right – Lilith owns my soul!"
I chewed on my lip, worrying the soft flesh between my teeth. As much as I hated Ruby for all the stress she had put the brothers through, what other options did we have? At the very least, we needed her knife to even have a shot at saving Dean – if Lilith was even the one holding his deal. And that was a big if.
"Okay, fine. She's a liar. She's still got that knife."
"For all we know, she works for Lilith."
"Dean," Bobby interjected, his stoic tone silencing the pair almost immediately. "Sam's right." My brows shot up at that – Bobby, thinking that a demon was the right move? Perhaps Hell had finally frozen over.
"No, damn it!" Dean shouted, slamming his hands down on the table, shaking Bobby's pendulum device. I jumped in shock at his sudden anger. "Just no. We are not gonna make the same mistakes all over again," he said through gritted teeth. "You guys want to save me, find something else." Dean dragged his hand down his face and shook his head in frustration before inevitably skittering out of the room. He shouldered past Sam, who stared dumbfounded at his brother.
I exhaled slowly and stood up straight, tugging nervously at my shirt. "Ruby's not just going to give us the knife. Not without asking for something in return." I eyed Sam meaningfully. "She's been after you from the start, Sam. You want to give her exactly what she's after?"
"I want to save my brother," he snapped and turned away from me, fists balled up at his sides. "I thought you did too."
"I want what Dean wants," I answered coldly. "And if that means no demons, then we do this without demons."
Sam scoffed and turned heel, storming immediately out of the room. I rubbed my tired eyes and grabbed a book from the top of Bobby's stack piled at one end of the table.
—
The words on the pages were beginning to blur. For the umpteenth time my gaze flicked upward to the clock mounted on Bobby's wall. Three minutes had passed. I dragged my hands down my face and returned my gaze to the demonology book in front of me, reading the same passage for the first time.
"No shame in taking a break," Bobby said in a reassuring tone, not taking his eyes off his own book.
"Yeah, right," I grumbled and propped my chin in my hand, elbow planted firmly on the table. "There's not enough time for a break, not if Dean doesn't want us to go in guns blazing." For the better part of a week now a grim scowl remained on my features. If we were going to play by Dean's rules – no demons and no deals – we had to find something else, and soon. There wasn't any time to stop.
"You're no good to anyone if you're too exhausted to stand up and fight," he answered coolly.
"Then I'll sleep on the way."
Bobby gently shut his book and I glanced his way out of the corner of my eye. "I need you to understand something, so listen closely." My eyes widened a fraction as he twisted his chair to face me. "If this doesn't work out, it's not your fault. Ain't no one ever stopped a demon deal before – those hellhounds are going to come collecting no matter what. Doesn't hurt to try, but... we need to be realistic."
My expression softened as I met his watery gaze. He looked as defeated as I felt. Resigned to a life without Dean in it. I swallowed dryly, throat tight and eyes filling with tears. "I know, I just-" I sniffed and wiped my eyes with the heel of my hand. "I know. But I can't. Can't think about it right now, or I'll-"
Bobby placed his hand over mine and I winced at the contact. It was more comforting than I deserved. I should've been looking for solutions from the beginning, not waiting until we had a little over a day left. I covered my eyes with my hand and turned away from Bobby, hiding my fallen expression.
"It's not your fault. Never is, never will be," he uttered reassuringly. His grip tightened on my hand and he gave a slight tug, drawing my gaze back to his. "Need you to promise me something, something that Dean would want. If we can't fix this, don't go looking for a way to bring him back," he ordered, brows furrowing in a stern expression. "End the cycle."
"But Sam-"
"You're smarter than Sam is, cause you actually listen," Bobby grouched with a shake of his head. He readjusted his trucker's hat and released my hand. "That boy is going to get himself killed for Dean – has gotten himself killed. I can't-" Bobby sniffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't watch the both of you go down that path. You've got enough on your plate as is."
"That pack can manage-"
"Can they?" he snapped, leaning forward in his seat. "You've got people relying on you who don't even know who you are. They hear those damned rumors, and they see you killing other monsters, and they watch you struggling to build a new life for a hundred people that don't have a lick of trust in you. They don't need a figurehead."
I scoffed. "You've seen them, Bobs. They don't want me to be anything other than a figurehead."
"John was a figurehead. Told others what to do, stayed uninvolved," he argued. "Look where that got him. Admired by a few, loathed by a lot of others. Respected, sure, but man did some of us hate the kind of 'leader' he was."
"I'm not John," I snapped, glowering down at my open book.
"Could've fooled me," Bobby grumbled and lifted his hat to tame the messy hair underneath. He straightened the hat on his head and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "If this goes south, I want you to find people you can fight for."
"You want me to find a project," I grumbled and raked my fingers through my hair, scratching at my scalp.
"You've got plenty to choose from," he said with a shrug, popping his book back open and flipping through the pages until he found where he left off. "I'd start with those visions of yours."
"Visions?" I demanded, twisting to face him with alarming speed. "You mean-?"
"That giant fucker?" he questioned with a raised brow. "Dean may have mentioned it once or twice."
"'Course he has."
"Well what do you expect? That boy cares for you more than just about anything." My cheeks reddened and eyes widened at Bobby's words. At my silence he flicked his gaze back to mine, a soft smile quirking at the corner of his lips. "Don't give me that look. I'm old, not blind. You two aren't slick-"
A commotion from the basement had us both ricocheting out of our seats and to our feet. Shouts and screams of anger filled the air as I dashed around the table and towards the basement door. The wood door creaked and gave way under my forceful hands as I shoved the door open, nearly hitting Dean as I tumbled onto the stairs.
"-You deserve hell! I wish I could be there, Dean. I wish I could smell the flesh sizzle off your bones!" Ruby screamed, furious gaze fixated on Dean as she thrashed from inside a devil's trap painted on the ceiling. My jaw dropped as I traced the path from the frothing demon, to the trap, to Sam and Dean standing on the stairs staring down at her. "I wish I could be there to hear you scream!"
"What the fuck is she doing here," I snarled as I gripped Dean's jacket sleeve and dragged him up the stairs towards me. He continued past, hand reaching towards mine to pull me along with me.
"She was just dropping off a farewell gift," he said as he reached his free hand into his pocket and withdrew...
My eyes widened. "Is that the demon killing blade?"
"You know it-"
"So we're just going to let Ruby rot?" Sam demanded, jogging to reach Dean's side as he dragged us across the house. "What if she's right? What if I can take out Lilith?" Dean came to a sudden halt, his grip on my hand tightening. He faced Sam with an enraged look. "Don't look at me like that," Sam ordered.
"What, you're just going to give her the Carrie stare and Lilith goes poof?" he snapped out angrily. "Sam, you wanted the knife and I got you the knife. That's it." He released his grip on my hand and rounded the kitchen table, facing the living room as Bobby entered.
"Dean, just listen to me for a second. Last time Lilith snapped her fingers and put thirty demons on our ass, and all we've got's one little knife? I mean, like you said, we go in smart or we don't go in at all."
"Well this sure as hell isn't smart!" he snapped furiously. "We are not gonna make the same mistake all over again." He rounded the table, coming face to face with Sam, brows furrowed in a stern 'no-means-no' expression. "Don't you see a pattern here? Dad's deal, my deal, now this? I mean every time one of us is– is up the creek, the other is begging to sell their soul. That's all this is, man. Ruby's just yanking your chain down the road. You know what it's paved with and you know where it's going." Dean turned away sharply and lunged for the bag on the table, withdrawing his favorite gun. He popped the slide and inspected the weapon before reassembling it.
I met Bobby's eyes nervously. This was exactly what he had warned me against – not to go down the rabbit hole that the brother's found themselves in. I pursed my lips and gave him a nod of agreement before I wrapped my arms around myself and stared down at the floor in frustration. We were stuck.
"What do you think is gonna happen? This is me, I can handle it," Sam pressed, irritation slipped into his voice. Dean paused in his movements for just a second to shake his head.
"It's not worth the risk," he stated, placing the gun on the table. I winced at his words and gripped the edge of my shirt. For Dean, it was always worth it. He deserved so much better than what he was getting. Better than this deal, than this life... better than me. I scowled as my shoes. I couldn't fix this, not even with the year we had. They all deserved better than someone who couldn't get their shit straight.
"It is worth it," Sam practically pleaded as he pulled out a chair and sat beside his brother. I turned away from the pair and shuffled towards Bobby. The older man gave me a meaningful gaze as he placed a gentle, calloused hand on my shoulder. "Cause you're my brother, and you did the same for me."
The group fell silent. My gaze krept around the room, taking in the sullen faces of my family. The closer we got to the final hour, the more hopeless we all felt. Would one knife be enough to stop the demons? Probably not. We needed to be smart, and play by Dean's rules... if those rules were even viable in a case like this. I doubted they were.
My hands balled into fists at my sides as tears finally spilled over, wetting my cheeks. Bobby's hand tightened on my shoulder as I shook, biting down on my lip. What were we supposed to do?
"We take this knife, and we go after Lilith our way," Dean stated, holding up the demon blade. "The way Dad taught us to. And if we go down, then, uh... then we go down swinging." He turned to face everyone in the room, green eyes dancing between the three of us. "What do you think?"
I sniffed and wiped the back of my hand over my eyes. I inhaled deeply and planted my hands on my hips before meeting his gaze. "The four of us with one knife, against God knows how many demons?" I cracked a wry smile that didn't meet my eyes. "Better odds than we usually have."
Sam smiled at that. "So, Indiana then?"
"That's where Lilith's on shore-leave," Dean answered with a shrug. "What does a demon even do for fun?"
—
I hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from my lungs. I yelped and pushed myself up on my elbows, skittering backwards as the vetala lunged forward, fangs bared. With a fearsome snarl I rolled backwards onto my shoulders and kicked my feet outward, hitting the bloodsucker square in the chest.
The vetala shrieked as it sailed backwards, collapsing into a heap on the ground. I pulled myself upright just as Dean grabbed the feminine creature by its blonde hair, yanking its body upright as he plunged a long silver blade through its back and twisted. The thing let out a cacophonous scream before falling limp to the ground. Scales blossomed along its skin as it slowly reverted to its serpentine form.
Dean immediately dropped the knife to the ground and rushed over, his hands finding mine as he pulled me to my feet. I stumbled forward, falling against his chest as his hands found my waist, steadying me.
"The other one- they hunt in pairs! Did you find the-?"
"Sam's got it covered," he answered hurriedly, warm palms skating over my skin. "It didn't bite you, right? We need to detox you if any venom got in your system."
I exhaled a sigh of relief and dropped my head against his chest. One of his hands found my hair, threading gently through my locks. "I'm fine," I answered, hands shaking as they buried in his flannel. "I'm starting to really not like any kind of bloodsucker. Too much work."
Dean chuckled and leaned down to press a quick kiss to my temple. "Don't worry about it too much — we've got your back."
I lifted my head from his chest and grinned up at him. "I know you do. The Butch to my Sundance, right?"
He grinned widely, chest puffing with pride. His fingers left my hair, instead finding my chin. He tilted my face upward and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. "Damn right, sweetheart."
—
The Impala rolled restlessly down the interstate. Indians towns and Mike markers passed by with no sign of the vehicle slowing. I rested my forehead against the side window of the car, breath fogging the glass and then quickly disappearing.
The radio played softly but all other chatter was quiet. My eyes flicked to Dean, his hands steady on the wheel, eyes wide as he scanned the darkness. Sam was slouched beside him, deep in thought — I could see the cogs turning under his mop of hair.
Sam cleared his throat. "Hey, Dean?" His older brother hummed in response and Sam swallowed dryly, rubbing his thumb into his opposite palm nervously. "If this doesn't work out, I just want you to know-"
"Nuh uh, we're not doing this," Dean immediately silenced. I sat up curiously, leaning forward in my seat. "No, you're not gonna bust out the misty good-bye speech, okay? And if this is my last day on earth, I do not want it to be socially awkward."
Sam quieted and leaned back in his seat, staring somberly out the window. I worried my lip between my teeth, debating whether or not I should speak up.
Dean sighed and reached for the radio. "You know what I do want?" he questioned. I leaned forward, propping my elbows on the back of the bench seat. He switched the radio on and...
"Bon Jovi?" Sam asked, lifting a wary brow as the chorus of 'Wanted Dead Or Alive' blared.
"Hey, Bon Jovi rocks-" he turned pointedly to me for a split second, "-sometimes." I couldn't help but grin.
The pair howled along to the lyrics and I laughed at their off-key notes, occasionally joining in. I pounded on the top of the seat in time with the beat and swayed my head at Sam's belting tone. Dean fell silent as he watched Sam, his grip tightening on the wheel every second.
Suddenly, flashing blue and red lights appeared in our vision, cutting the song short. My eyes widened as I swiveled in my seat, only to see a police car and Bobby's vehicle nowhere in sight.
"Dean, any reason a cop would pull you over?" I mused, tension oozing from his voice.
"I got a busted tail light," he grumbled as he angled the Impala towards the side of the road. He quickly rolled his window down and watched from his mirror as the officer approached.
"License and registration," the bald man demanded as he propped his elbows on the rolled down window, flashlight angled into the car. I averted my eyes with a squint, the beam aimed haphazardly my way. Dean slid the items towards him silently, eyeing the man with apprehension. I inhaled nervously, taking in an off scent. It seemed... off.
"You realize you have a light out, Mr. Haggard?" he asked, passing the items back through the window.
"Uh, yes sir," Dean mumbled and cleared his throat. I scrunched my nose and leaned forward in my seat. Was something wrong? "As a matter of fact-"
Dean threw the door open, hitting the officer square in the chest. I shouted as I reached for the door handle, popping the latch just as Dean reached for the demon knife and plunged it into the officer's chest.
And orange glow filled the man's body, his skeleton flickering before the cold corpse dropped to the ground. Death. That's what the smell had been. Masked by others to hide the rotting corpse.
"Holy shit," I murmured. "How'd you know."
"I can, uh, I can see the fuckers," he answered, staring shell-shocked for a moment as he wiped the blade on his pants. "I can see their real faces — perks of being Hell's soon-to-be bitch, I guess. Come on, let's hide this car before they come looking for him. Someone fill Bobby in," he ordered as his hands found the officer's body and began dragging him into the woods.
—-
The car rolled to a stop a few blocks down from the neighborhood Bobby's spell located Lilith in. Three figures stepped out of the sleek car as Bobby's truck parked behind them along the curb.
"Hey, Sam," Dean called out as he trudged around the front of the car to his brother. Sam paused beside the open passenger door, watching his brother with interest. The sounds of Bobby and their companion rooting through a massive stash of weapons faded as Sam focused on his brother.
"Need you to do me a favor," Dean began. "If this doesn't work out-" Sam rolled his eyes and Dean threw his hands up defensively. "Just if! I have to cover my bases. You get it."
"Yeah, I get it," Sam mumbled back.
Dean steeled himself for a second, inhaling shakily. "Look, if this doesn't work out, I want you to promise you'll look after her." At that, Sam cocked a brow. "I know, you two haven't... seen eye to eye lately," he said with a helpless shrug of his shoulders, eyes briefly cast to the ground in disappointment. "But I just need someone to make sure she's alright, y'know, if I'm not around."
Dean buried his hands in his pockets, meeting his brother's gaze with what he hoped wasn't a sheepish look. "I don't know what happened between you two, but... I just don't want her to be alone, man."
Sam blinked once, twice, before giving Dean a reassuring smile. He reached out and clapped Dean on the shoulder, who laughed nervously in response.
"Sure, dude. I'll make sure she's safe."
Dean breathed out a sigh of relief.
"What kind of brother would I be if I didn't look out for your girl," Sam teased, bumping his brother on the shoulder as the pair walked towards the rear of the Impala. Dean froze.
"My-?"
"Yeah," Sam cut him off. He twisted to face Dean, grinning to lighten the mood. "Come on, man, as if I don't see you leaving her place after hours. And I never hear the car start up when you leave the motel room at night."
Deans brows rose as he listened to Sam, eyes fixed on the woman further down the street, chatting softly with Bobby. "Yeah, I guess it is kind of obvious," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck abashedly.
"You think?" Sam laughed as he popped the trunk and began pulling packed duffel bags out. He passed a shotgun to Dean, who happily accepted it and inspected the barrel. "It's all going to work out, Dean."
Dean stared down the chamber of the gun, a scowl on his features. His hands shook as he peered over his shoulder in the direction of where Lilith was no doubt waiting. "Yeah," he half-heartedly agreed.
Both brothers turned with bags slung over their shoulders at the sounds of footsteps approaching. "You boys ready?" Bobby questioned as he stopped beside the truck. Dean met the tired, worried eyes of the woman behind him — bags under her eyes, lips chewed almost raw in some spots. He offered her a soft smile, and she grinned back.
"Yeah. Let's do this."
—-
"It's the little girl," Dean stated as he stared into the house with a pair of binoculars. I lowered mine and passed them to Sam beside me. "Her face, it's... awful."
Sam pulled himself upright from where he laid on the ground and pulled himself to a crouching position. "Then let's go, we're wasting time." He moved to stand but Dean reached out and yanked him back down.
"Wait!"
"For what? For them to kill more people!?"
Dean yanked him back down to a seated position and pointed towards the cul de sac in front of us. I reached for the binoculars beside him and followed his finger.
"See the real go-getter mailman, on the clock past closing?" he stated, gesturing to the man in blue who stood beside a mailbox with his letter bag open, not making any moves to distribute mail. "And Mr. Rogers over there?"
"Demons?" Bobby asked as I sucked in a harsh breath. Of course Lilith would have the whole neighborhood on lockdown. I peered through the bushes and lawn ornaments at the demons — it looked as if they were searching. And if they were on guard, that meant-
"She knows we're coming," I stated, propping myself up on my elbows. I passed the binoculars towards Bobby. "Look at them, they're not just watching — they're waiting."
"And that's why we need to be smart about this," Dean said with a meaningful look towards Sam, who tightened his jaw in agitation.
"Right, so we- we just ninja past those guys, sneak in," he said with a nervous shrug.
"'Ninja past?'" I mumbled out.
"And do what, Sam, give a ten year old girl a Colombian necktie?" Dean snapped, running his fingers nervously through his hair.
"This isn't about saving you, Dean, it's about saving everyone," Sam tried to rationalize. I rolled onto my side to face him with a nasty glare.
"Save who, Sam? The humans who are probably already dead meat-suits?" I snapped. The three men were taken aback by my sudden anger. "Those people are probably already dead, or will be dead when we tear in there — either by our hands, or the demons'. So what, you want us to kill a bunch of friendly neighbors and the demons inside with your fancy knife and put Dean at risk?"
"She has to be stopped," Bobby interjected with a level tone, always the mediator. "It's like you said: those people are as good as dead, no matter what we do. Might as well nip it in the bud now, so no one else has to suffer."
I stared at him for a moment, processing his words before I faced the row of houses once more. A groan of frustration left me as I pushed myself into a crouched position beside Sam. "I'm so sick of people dying — of us killing people for the sake of ganking a demon. It's not right."
"Then let's play this smart, and try to get as many out as we can," Dean stated. He reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze. "I say we split up, yeah? Two of us 'ninja past' while the other two keep the rest off our tail?"
"You really think splitting up and searching for clues is our best option right now?" I hissed between my teeth.
"I do," Bobby said. I faced him with a quizzical expression. "N/N, you and I can distract them, find some way to block them from the house, while Sam and Dean charge in for Lilith."
"You're joking-"
"They'll see you coming from a mile away, honey," Bobby pled. I pursed my lips tightly before resigning myself to it.
"Fine. Bobby and I'll trap the bastards while you two charge in like maniacs."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Dean said with a cocksure grin my way as he crouched beside me. He swung his bag over his shoulder as Sam approached. I reached for his hand, snatching from the strap around his shoulder.
"Be careful," I ordered, my throat suddenly raw. It was all becoming very real, no longer a matter of time but a matter of when.
"No promises," he joked. At my terse expression, his grin fell away and his grip on my hand tightened.
I gasped as his other hand darted out to grab the back of my head and pull me into a kiss. My breath hitched at the feeling of his soft lips on mine, forceful and reassuring. I slowly sank into it and placed one hand on his cheek while the other gripped his hand tighter.
When he finally pulled away I felt out of breath. I pressed my forehead to his and panted softly, holding him close for what might be the last time.
"I love you," he murmured.
"Love you, too," I said with a smile and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. "Stay safe."
I hesitated, not wanting to leave him. With a quick squeeze of my hand he backed away towards Sam who stood several feet away, watching the house they meant to invade. His hand dropped from mine.
I felt cold.
I turned wordlessly and followed Bobby in the opposite direction, readjusting my bag on my shoulders. We had enough materials on us to fight our way into the neighborhood, and maybe cause some demonic panic.
"Here," Bobby said, holding out his hand as I approached. He dropped a rosary into my outstretched palm. "I'll work on some traps. Want you to bless the water supply."
I nodded solemnly, lips sealed tight.
As Bobby and I trudged from yard to yard, over fences and through gates, we did our best to avoid demons. They were everywhere, like cockroaches hiding from the light. Without the knife, we were sitting ducks if caught. I held my breath each time we passed one.
It was several minutes later that we finally split. We were running out of time, and midnight was steadily approaching. The metaphorical bells of Hell were ringing.
These suburban houses wouldn't be connected to the city, so if I wanted to purify any of the water, I had to find individual water systems. Careful to keep out of sight, I scoured that side of the Lilith was supposedly hidden in. It seemed most of her demon guards were either distracted or disposed of. Fewer stood along the streets, watching for signs of activity.
When I finally found the water system, I popped it open with shaky hands. The rosary dropped from my hand into the small pool of water as Latin words began tumbling out of my mouth.
Just as quickly as I had opened it, I closed the lid to the water system. Give it a few minutes to spread throughout the entire supply and we would be good to go. I peered through the darkness, my figure blocked by shrubs along the side of the house.
There, along the fence line. I could see Sam and Dean crouched inside the fence, leaning over a body. Sam wiped the bloody demon knife off on his jeans. My stomach churned as it often did now at the sight of human blood.
Wait. Was that...? I bit back a snarl at the sight of a blonde woman beside them, a permanent bitchy scowl embedded on her slim features.
I didn't have much time to ponder Ruby's sudden appearance, because the demons were mobilizing now. I swore under my breath and fumbled with the closed control panel on the side of the house. They seemed fewer in numbers now — maybe some of Bobby's stall tactics had worked.
I popped the latch and ran my finger quickly over the switches. My gaze flicked from the panels to the horde as Sam, Dean and Ruby dashed for the house, demons hot on their tails. Finally, I found the switch I needed.
Wait for it... wait for it...
I flicked it and the sprinklers burst to life, dousing everything on the yard just as Sam and Dean made it onto the stairs. I silently cheered, pumping my fists into the air.
I slammed the control panel shut and whirled to face the darkness. The demons were hissing, their skin sizzling as if touched by acid. I couldn't help but grin as I searched for Bobby.
I finally found him, peeking around the edge of a house across the cul de sac. As his eyes met mine I held up a thumbs-up, one he quickly returned. He motioned over his shoulder and disappeared into the darkness.
With Bobby gone, there was only one thing left for me. I peered over the tops of the bushes. The demons were now standing at the edge of the sprinklers range, beady black eyes watching the house intently. I steeled myself and adjusted my bag over my shoulders. Without a second thought I vaulted myself over the top of the fence.
The moment my feet hit the ground, I sprinted across the well-manicured lawn. I flinched the moment the frigid sprinklers hit me, but didn't slow down. I was safe from the demons now, but that doesn't mean the job was done.
Clothes dripping, I slammed the oak front doors open and stepped into the massive house. All was quietly, deathly so. It wasn't a good sign.
"It's not here!" I heard a familiar shout from upstairs. I jerked my head upstairs and began sprinting that way, taking the steps two at a time.
I could smell the now, several people and pungent sulfur. I followed it, and the sound of a bitter child's scream to a door at the end of the hall. The door burst open at my weight upon it and I stumbled into a room full of pink.
A mother clutched her daughter on the bed, the girls white dress covered in stained blood. I covered my mouth and looked away as I side-stepped into the room and approached Sam and Dean.
"You're welcome for the assist out there," I said, gesturing towards the front of the house. "I thought I told you to play it safe?"
"Did our best," Dean answered. "Lilith's not here."
"I can see that. Any ideas?"
"If she's not in the girl, then she's long gone," Ruby spat. "I hate to say 'I told you so.'"
Sam scoffed and offered a hand to the woman on the bed, cradling her daughter. "Come on, we need to get you downstairs. You, your husband, and your daughter need to stay in the basement — salt the doors, stay quiet." The woman nodded rapidly and took his hand, sliding off the bed.
The entire procession rushed downstairs and ushered the woman and child into the basement. I gagged at the sight of an old man crumpled on the ground, a pool of blood beneath him and a swarm of flies above him.
"So what now? Could she get past the sprinklers?" Sam questioned as we stepped into the living room.
"With her pay grade, she's not sweating the holy water," Ruby answered with an eye roll, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall.
"OK, you win. What do I have to do?"
At that Ruby straightened from her position on the wall. "What-?"
Dena grabbed Sam roughly by the shoulders, spinning his brother around the face him. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"
"Just shut up for a minute! Ruby, what do I need to do?"
"Sam-"
"You had your chance!" Ruby snapped, staring him down with a rage-filled stare. "You can't just flip a switch. We needed time!"
"We don't have time for psychic magic!" I shouted, roaring over the trio.
"We'll there's gotta be something! Whatever it is, I'll do it!" Dean reached to grab him, sputtering out a protest, but Sam snatched his arm away. "Don't, Dean! I'm not going to let you go to Hell!"
"Yes, you are!" Dean shouted back, and the room fell silent.
My heart broke.
This was it. Dean had given up, really, truly, given up. He made his peace with it. And if he was certain, that meant there was no room for argument.
He was as good as gone already.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, clutching Sam by the shoulders. "I know this is all my fault. But what you're doing, it's not going to save me. It's just going to kill you."
I covered my mouth with my hand and turned away from the pair as tears welled up in my eyes. We didn't have enough time now to fix this mess. It finally clicked inside me that Dean was going to die tonight.
One year would never be enough.
I choked back a sob as his hand found my waist. "Take care of my wheels. Take care of my girl," he said as he squeezed my hip. "And remember what dad taught you, OK?"
The grandfather clock nestled against the wall chimes. My eyes widened and tears slipped down my cheeks. Midnight.
An awful scent filled the air, like that of a burnt, rotten corpse. Death, and decay, and hatred, and pain. Dean turned to face into the living room, his eyes latched onto something beside the couch.
"Hellhound," he said breathily, his words catching in his throat.
I stared at the spot and watched as the carpet seemed to cave in four spots. It was invisible. Slobber hit the ground, wet spots staining the plush carpet.
"Move," I ordered, pressing my hands to Dean's chest. "Move!" I screamed it again as the thing took a single step forward. The whole group burst into action as we sprinted through the house, crashing into the study and slamming the door behind us. Sam and Dean stood with their backs to the door, holding it shut as the beast hailed and scraped at the wood doors, pulling chunks off.
I dropped my duffel bag and unzipped it, tossing things out as I searched for the goofer dust. Finally finding it, I tossed it to Dean who quickly dropped to one knee and lined the door with the black powder.
The shaking door stilled and Sam and Dean backed away. The house was silent. I held my breath and gripped Dean's shirt as he backed towards me.
"Give me the knife," Ruby demanded, outstretching her hand towards Sam. "Maybe I can fight it off."
Sam blanched, clutching the knife tighter in his hand. "What?"
"Give me the knife! The dust won't last forever!"
Sam furrowed his brows and twisted the knife in his hand. Tentatively, he passed it towards Ruby, handle first-
Until Dean pushed his hand back towards him.
"No, don't!" he shouted over the sudden roar of the hellhound outside the door. "That's not Ruby, it's not her!"
I sprung into action, pushing Dean away from the demon in question. I stood beside him, hackles bristling and teeth bared as Sam raised the knife, ready for a fight.
"How long have you been in her?" Dean demanded, eyes flicking between the blonde and the hoofer dust. 'Ruby's' demeanor shifted immediately, her confidence swapping to favor a relaxed stance and a giggly smile.
"Not long," she teased, her eyes rolling into the back of her head to reveal the pure whites of her demonic eyes. I flinched and gripped Dean's shirt. "I like it. It's all... grown up and pretty."
I curled my lip in disgust. Would the demon knife even work on something as monstrous as Lilith? Probably not.
We were screwed.
"You know, I should've seen it before, but you ugly fuckers all look the same to me," Dean hissed through his teeth. The three of us turned slowly, backs to the wall as we shifted towards the door.
Lilith ignored his words and tilted her head. The sound of her neck popping and twisting filled the room as she raised her hand. With a flick of her wrist, Sam was sent flying through the air.
I screamed as my feet left the ground and I slammed into the wall beside Sam, a rickety bookshelf between us, breath escaping my chest as I sputtered out.
"Hello, Sam," Lilith said as she padded across the floor, clicking in Ruby's heels. I struggled to turn my head, eyeing Dean splayed across the desk as my chest heaved. "I've waited a very long time to meet you."
Dean's eyes filled with horror as he watched Lilith. I couldn't see, barely able to turn my head far enough to see beside me.
"Your lips are soft," I heard Lilith coo. I resisted the urge to gag and struggled against the invisible restraints that kept me pinned to the wall.
"Right, so you have me. Now let my brother go," Sam ordered. I flinched at the sound of the hellhound leaping onto the door.
"Silly goose," she droned, stepping back towards the door with a lopsided grin. "To bargain, you need to have something I want. And you don't!"
"So this is your big plan, huh?" Dean seethed from his spot on the table. I fought against the restraints again, snarling. I felt my teeth elongate and shorten once again, and the hair on the back of my neck stood, becoming thicker. If we didn't get out of here and away from Lilith soon, there was no hope for us. "You want to drag me to hell, kill Sam, and then what? Become queen bitch?"
"I don't talk to puppy chow," Lilith snapped. I watched in terror as she backed towards the door, her hand resting on the burnished handle. "Sick 'em, boy," she cooed as she turned the handle.
I screamed as the goofer dust blew away under the hot breath of the beast and it lunged, a ferocious, hell-fiery roar tore from its throat.
Blood spattered against the body of the invisible hellhound, highlighting its features as its claws dug into Dean's legs and wrenched him off the table. He fell onto the ground in a heap and screamed as it's class punctured his chest.
My ears rang and I screamed out in rage, tears bubbling in my eyes. I thrashed against the wall, watching helplessly as my fur bristled out from my skin. My bones cracked, fighting to rearrange my insides into what I had been hiding from for months.
The beast tore into Dean, shredded claw marks dragging down his chest. Blood pooled on the floor, on the carpet as he shoved the monster's nose away with a weak shove.
I could feel it, just as I had felt Sam die. My skin felt like it was being seared off of me, flayed to the bone. I sobbed, pounding against the wall as I fought against the invisible restraints.
The band snapped and I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I screamed, watching as Dean laid still on the ground, eyes to the sky.
And then a blinding flash filled the room. I fell to the ground in a boneless, broken heep, fur bursting from my back as my spine ripped through my clothes. The light dimmed and I lifted my head to stare down the bloody, invisible figure as it tore through Dean's shoulder.
In an instant nails become claws, hair became fur and teeth became fangs. My whole body burned, blood boiling as my skin raged in anger and pain. I felt as if my own chest had been ripped open, heart yanked out and crushed in front of me.
I saw red.
I pounced, fangs sinking into what I hoped was the back of the beast. It yelped and I let out a rage snarl, tearing my head backwards. I drew flesh with me, burning, hot flesh.
The hellhound rolled, dropping into its side in an attempt to pin me beneath it. I snapped my jaws, blood spraying as I lashed out and caught it across its bloodstained muzzle.
I threw my back feet upward, connecting with its solid stomach. The monster howled in surprise as it was tossed backwards, landing solidly on its back.
I was on it in an instant. There were no reservations this time as I sunk my teeth into its throat and tore. No second thoughts, no regret, no worries of retribution. Only anger, and debilitating, bone-crushing grief.
Blood stained my muzzle and dropped from my jaws, onto my tongue as I ripped piece after piece. It seemed to burn on my tongue, almost scalding, as if it was made from the very fires of hell. The pain meant nothing compared to the sight of Dean just behind.
When I was finally satisfied, a broken whine left my throat. I took a stumbling step forward and slipped on flood, falling to my chest. I was drenched, my chest, paws and maw were caked. I didn't care.
Slow steps carried me to Dean's bloodied form, a limp pile of torn flesh on the bloodied wood floors. Sam crouched beside him, cradling his brother's head. Lilith was... gone. I stumbled and fell onto my haunches.
I couldn't hear his heartbeat as I often could. The hunger that lingered just under the surface had dissipated, hiding itself away for now. Instead, sorrow wormed its way into my chest, feasting on the gap left behind by hunger and rage.
I dropped to my stomach and squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I didn't want to see it. The lingering sensation of his death followed me, the scent of sulfur in the air. The howls of the hellhound seemed to ring in my ears.
I laid my head on his arm as Sam sobbed beside me, cradling his brother as if tears would bring him back.
Dean was gone.
—
"Come to bed," I murmured softly, pressing gentle kisses to Dean's neck. He tilted his head to the side, giving me better access, but his hands remained glued to the thick book in front of him. A soft groan left him as I sucked another pale mark into his skin. His hand twitched against the paper.
"You know I can't," he said as he leaned back slightly in one of the four chairs around my small dining room table. "Sam wants to-" he exhaled softly as I wrapped an arm around him from behind, planting a palm on his chest. "- wants to get a lead on Bela. We need the Colt, and she needs a plea deal."
"Bela can take whatever those hellhounds give her for all I care," I mumbled against his jaw, stubble brushing against my lips. "It's late. Come to bed," I said more forcefully, breath warm against his ear.
Dean hugged in frustration and turned to the side just enough to grip my hips, dragging me around the chair. I stumbled a bit, drowsiness fogging my mind as my body tilted and I dropped gently onto his lap.
"You could just sleep here," he suggested with a waggle of his brows. I rolled my eyes and tucked my head into the crook of his neck.
"Bed's more comfortable," I mumbled back, breath warm against his neck. "But I'd stay here if you asked."
He hummed softly, flipping through papers. "Stay?" he asked.
I smiled and twisted my head just enough to see the books spread in front of him. Books of tracking spells and demons deals and any other voodoo he could find that might work. Dean pursed his lips tightly, brows furrowing as he refocused.
"You know," I began, shifting to sit upright. "Searching for Bela's not going to do you any good if you're too tired to stop her."
He was silent for several long moments, tired eyes scanning over the pages for the umpteenth time. His eyes were narrowed and bags were forming under them — he hadn't slept well in... an ungodly amount of time.
"Gotta find something," he finally settled on, one hand reaching down to thread his fingers with mine. "Don't want to leave you and Sam alone here. Bobby, too." He tilted his head down to give me a cocksure grin. "Dunno what you three would do without me."
I smiled softly and leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw. "I don't know either," I mused, fingertips finding his hair and scratching lightly through it. "I think you're it for me."
Dean froze, his eyes on mine. His jaw slowly slackened, mouth falling open as he stared at me in surprise. "Yeah?" he questioned.
I nodded. "Yeah."
He hummed. "Guess I better find a solution to this then. Cause the Colt might be a no-show for this rodeo."
I cupped his jaw with my hand, thumb scratching against stubble until it met his bottom lip and ran across the soft skin. "Then we'll find something else. 'Cause I'm not losing you. I'll go to Hell and bring you back myself if I have to," I answered with a serious expression. Dean chuckled softly, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.
"Yeah. We'll find something," he mumbled. His hand previously linked with mine rose to pinch my chin between his forefinger and thumb. He pressed a slow kiss to my lips, deep and tired. It held a weight to it that few of his other kisses did. It felt like goodbye.
---
I fiddled with the necklace around my neck. It felt wrong sitting there, like a heavy weight that was dragging me down, down, down into whatever pit Dean's soul had disappeared to. My eyes flicked up to the very pit his body was hidden in -- the churned dirt in front of my crossed legs.
I didn't know what to say. It felt wrong, having a burial rather than a hunter's funeral. Is that what Dean would have wanted? Probably not. Sam was adamant, and I didn't have the strength to argue. I cocked my head in Sam's direction, standing at the edge of the grove with Bobby, talking in hushed voices. He was plotting already.
My eyes were red, skin puffy. I didn't think it was possible to cry anymore, but every time I let my mind wander I proved myself wrong. Everything felt heavy. I felt like I could barely move.
My body shook with silent sobs as I leaned forward, elbows braced in my lap. He was gone -- truly gone this time. Sam had already tried a deal, and failed. I could smell the sulfur on him the moment he came back.
How long had it been? I sniffed and looked up at the sky, brushing stray tears away with the palm of my hand. At least two days.
A watery scoff left my throat, followed by a wet sniff. Two whole days. I plucked at the grass by my knees. That would make today...
I broke down into sobs. True sobs, not just the few watery choked out sounds that I had allowed to escape. I buried my face in my hands and choked on my own tears until I thought I was going to vomit. My head hurt, my eyes stung, my heart pounded. I felt sick at the realization of what day it was. A day we wouldn't get to share.
There was no going back. All the demons, and monsters, and gods, and bastards that had any control over life and death wouldn't let him come back. It was over. I wiped my tears away again and glanced at the pair of hunters from the corner of my eye. Bobby was angry. I could practically see the anger in his eyes, even from this distance, as he argued with Sam.
I didn't need to hear them to know what they were talking about. Sam was going to leave me. I knew it from the moment I realized Dean made the deal. Sam would never stay, not when both brothers were so set in the repetitive cycle of self-sacrifice. There was no room for me in Sam's plans -- a monster, and one who too closely followed Dean's wishes.
I could feel Sam's tension. He wanted to leave. I rubbed my temples as my tears ran dry. One shaky hand reached to clutch Dean's necklace around my neck. The scent of cherries still clung faintly to it. But even that was overshadowed by death.
I reached out with my one free hand and placed my palm on the churned dirt. It was soft beneath my skin, and I curled my fingers into it, leaving a palm print. It was probably the closest I would ever get to touching him again.
My throat constricted as I tried to find the words. There was so much I wanted to say, even if he couldn't hear me. I wiped away the tears again, smearing dirt on my wet cheek. I sat back with a huff, exhaustion overtaking me. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth as the words finally slipped out.
"Happy anniversary, Dean."

11,414 words.
End of season three.