Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

yellow ғever;pαrт oɴe

October '08

One of the downsides of life on the road is the inability to escape your own thoughts. No matter how many radio stations you flip through, or how loudly you blast your favorite songs, you're still stuck in the same car, same headspace, with no way to outrun your mind.

It doesn't matter how much you try to distract yourself—*you will think*. You think about the past, the future, the things you can't change, and the things you never saw coming. You think about the good moments, the laughter, the warmth. You think about the bad, the scars, the losses, and the silence that follows them.

You laugh. You mourn. You grieve. You cry. You regret. You wonder. You contemplate.

Since I left home, I've felt nothing but betrayal. It's a hard truth to swallow when the one person you thought would always have your back is the one who turns out to have kept secrets from you. I think about my stepmother—she tried so hard to be what my mother was, but in doing that, she erased the parts of my mother that made her *my* mother. And I can't help but wonder:

What is my mother?

Who was she, really?

I thought I knew her. But now... I wonder if I ever did.

I remember the way she spoke to me, cryptic and distant, like a stranger trying to teach me a lesson that I was never meant to understand. She left me with riddles and pieces of a puzzle that only she knew how to put together, and left me—left us—struggling to make sense of the mess. She was an actress, playing a part. A role that wasn't real.

A fraud.

A liar.

At least, that's how I feel. I'm angry, hurt, confused—and no matter how much time passes, I can't shake the feeling that I was robbed of the truth. But maybe I'm wrong for feeling this way. After all, she's gone now.

But even if it's wrong, I won't ignore these feelings. Not because she's gone, but because they matter. My feelings matter.

Dad says she did what she thought was best, that she wanted to protect me. But does that even make sense? All parents say that. The truth is, the only way to protect your child is to be honest. To not keep them in the dark. To not medicate them and hope it all goes away. The world doesn't work that way. Truth is the only thing that would have truly protected me.

I told my father I forgave him, and I meant it. I do want a fresh start.

We need a fresh start.

But it still hurts to think that things might have been different if they'd just told me the truth. If they hadn't tried to hide behind their lies, their protection.

Maybe I'm being too hard on them. I don't have kids. What do I really know?

I guess the best I can do is tell myself that they did their best with what they had.

But did they?

Anyway, lately, I've started feeling like I'm becoming a better version of myself. I've been eating again, and I can't say I'd be able to do that without Sam and Dean. They make sure I don't skip meals. It's funny how someone else's care can make all the difference. The headaches aren't as constant either, and the superhearing's manageable, as long as I'm not surrounded by a crowd.

I've been sleeping, too. Not just resting, but sleeping. There's a difference.

Still, every time I close my eyes, I end up dreaming about my mom.