No Rest for the Wicked | Supernatural

one

FOUR MONTHS CAME and went. Time was strange now; it was as if it couldn't go fast enough, but moved so incredibly slow at the same time. I counted down the days until I would die and finally get to see Dean again. But at the same time, the more time that passed the more I felt myself longing for him. It had been four months without his smartass jokes, vulgar comments, and playful bickering. It had been four months since he ruffled my hair or stole my toothbrush or gave me a hug whenever I was upset.

I could feel myself slipping. I knew I was. I couldn't do this without my big brother. But I had promised him I would keep on living. I promised him I'd keep fighting. So that's what I did. I hunted every sorry son of a bitch I could find, and just before I killed them I would whisper, "for Dean." It felt right, doing it in his name. It helped me feel better, imagining his proud smile as he watched over me.

Dragging myself out of bed, I heaved a long sigh. It had been another sleepless night, filled with tossing and turning and the memory of Dean's bloodied body flashing before my closed eyes. I finally decided to get up when the sun began to rise and trudged sluggishly into the bathroom of the small motel room I was renting for the time being. I stopped in front of the mirror for a moment, taking in my appearance. I barely recognized the girl staring back at me, the girl with lifeless eyes and bags under them that looked like bruises. I quickly looked away, feeling my eyes sting with tears. I brushed through my hair and pulled it into a messy ponytail before getting ready for the day. I wore my usual plain undershirt with Dean's leather jacket over it. It was huge on me — practically swallowing me whole — but I never went on a hunt without it. It was the one thing I still had of him, and it still smelled like him. Just barely, but I clung to whatever I could get.

My phone began to ring from its place on the nightstand and I let out an annoyed huff. The only person who ever called me was Bobby, checking in and trying to pry my location out of me. I kept that top secret. I was on my own now, and I wanted to keep it that way. I didn't necessarily like it, but it was just better that way. There was no one to look out for or worry about getting hurt. No more loss. No more pain.

"Hey, Bobby," I sighed, sitting down on the bed as I flipped through a newspaper I'd found about a potential case.

"Hey, kiddo. How're you doing today?" Bobby's voice filled my ears and despite my annoyance at his persistence of calling me at least twice a week, it gave me comfort. A smile warmed my face as I chuckled.

"Same as yesterday, which was the last time you called me," I stated. "Two days in a row, huh? You're really trying to get something out of me."

"You know I'll never quit," Bobby hummed. "But that's not why I'm callin' ya today."

My eyebrows pulled together slightly and I stopped my rustling. "Is that so?" I murmured. "Then to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were home," Bobby said. My heart nearly stopped beating at his words.