From The Mind Of Jemma Winchester

I Tried, I'm Sorry

GUYS TODAY WAS THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL I'M GONNA BE A FRESHMAN IN THE FALL I'M SO EXCITED AND SCARED ANYWAY THIS CHAPTER IS REALLY SAD AND FEELSY ENJOY.

Warnings: attempted suicide, yelling, arguing, kidnapping

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The Bunker

5:43 p.m.

"Just...be careful, okay? I know how dangerous Shapeshifters can be," I say worriedly.

"Don't you worry about us, Jem; we'll be fine," Dean says as he kisses my cheek and flies out the door with Sam.

Shapeshifters. They've always been one of the more dangerous creatures we hunt. Well, I'm not allowed to hunt them. I'm not allowed to hunt anything except for demons. But when Sam and Dean hunt Shifters... I always worry. I always make sure Sam and Dean are Sam and Dean when they come back.

I don't know why, but I'm exhausted. I give in to sleep a few hours after they leave for the hunt.

I wake on the couch, which is weird. Dean usually carries me to my bed, even if he's injured. It makes me feel guilty when he carries me when he's injured. He shouldn't have to worry whether I'm sleeping in my bed or not. He has to take care of himself.

I tiptoe to Dean's room. He's not in there, which is double weird. He never wakes up early the morning after a hunt. I stalk to the kitchen to find him or Sam. Triply weird: they're both in the kitchen, eating and laughing.

"Hey, princess. Did you sleep well?" Dean asks when I sit down next to him.

"Uh, yeah," I manage.

Quadruply strange. Dean doesn't call me "princess". He knows I hate it. He only does it to tease me, and he doesn't sound like he's joking around.

Discreetly, I grab a fork from the center of the table. Apparently I don't do it discreetly enough, because Sam slams his hand on top of mine.

"Oh, you are too clever," "Sam" says. "I thought we were going to get away with it."

I yank my hand out from underneath his and attempt to stab "Dean" with the fork. He catches my arm and bends it backward. He smacks his elbow against my nose, and I black out.

I try to rub my eyes, but one of my arms is handcuffed to the leg of a table. I'm still in the Bunker. The room outside the dungeon, I think. "Sam" and "Dean" turn and smirk.

"Apparently, we weren't clever enough to fool you," "Dean" says.

"Where's my family?" I demand. "What have you done with them?"

"Don't worry. They're right here." "Sam" slides the doors to the dungeon open, and Sam and Dean sit in two chairs, bound and gagged. Dean's eyes widen, and he struggles against the pure chains that hold him to the chair.

"Sam" unlocks my handcuffs and drags me into the dungeon. He hands me a gun. "Now, there's one bullet in that gun. Shoot one of them."

"What? No! I will never do that!"

"Fine, then both of them die," "Dean" says nonchalantly.

I turn to Sam and Dean. "I won't shoot either of you, I promise."

"Tick-tock," "Sam" says. "You have one minute."

"I'm not going to shoot one of them," I say angrily. "You can't make me."

An idea materializes in my mind. I cock the gun and press it against my temple. "If I die, you will let them walk free." It's a stupid plan, and I'll die, but at least I'll save Sam and Dean. They thrash against the chains, shaking their heads wildly. "Swear it." "Sam" and "Dean" glance at each other.