Fighting Through It All [Dean Winchester fanfic] #Wattys2015

Chapter Twenty Eight

*Authors Note: I may make this story a little shorter than 35 chapters*

Was I ever made to be happy? When God made me, did he make me with the intentions of me ever being happy? Was I ever supposed to have a family? Am I supposed to be more than who I am currently?

My mind, I've realized, is just a deep, dark, endless abyss. All the negative things I think and that other people say to me get tossed down inside of it, and those words or thoughts just sit there, bubbling and festering. Like how oil and water separate, the lighter comments stay close to the surface, and the ones that hurt the most sink to the bottom without ever a chance of resurfacing and going away.

Suddenly my mind drifts to Emmaline. Not my baby girl, but the one the angels told me about all those years ago. I bet, had she been thrown into this life, she would do this same thing. She seems like the type that would throw herself into anything to get people out of death or pain.

But could someone like Emmaline survive the life of a hunter? This life is filled with so much darkness, so much pain and so much hurt, that I feel like it has the possibility to crush her. You can only stay positive for so long when all you see is death in the run of a day. You can only keep a smile on for so long before you slowly feel your insides begin to cripple and your heart begin to fail, because that you watched a child get their neck ripped out by a vamp. Emmaline would have the right attitude, but she wouldn't be able to keep it.

And all these years, I looked up to her, thinking she was the most amazing thing ever. Maybe in another life where there were no monsters and I had a family, she'd be the type of person I'd want to be, but on this day, with everything that has happened, I can't be Emmaline.

I can't be weak.

I dig through my bag, one hand still on the wheel. I dig around for a bit, until I finally find my cellphone. I turn it on, dialing Dean's number and turning down the music. I wait a couple of rings before he picks up.
"Myra?" He says, half a tone of worry or concern in his voice.
"The battle's been postponed a day. It's not happening tomorrow, it's happening the day after. Spread the word," I command, pulling out onto a highway.
"Why?" He questions. I scan the road for the markers Megan gave me.
"I'm not sure. Megan appeared suddenly and gave me the news," I answer, only telling half the story. "I'm going to be back tomorrow. I remembered a weapon that I can use during the battle; it's a sure fire way to kill Kiramin."
I can see Dean furrowing his eyebrows. "What is it?"
I huff. Finally, after three hours of driving, I see the house that Megan was talking about.
"With even a scratch, it'll kill anything," I explain, leaving about how it kills the holder. Dean snorts.
"Well that's handy," He states, and I nod.
"Alright, I've got to go, love you," I say quickly, pulling the car into park. I can hear him stand up.
"Wait, where are you?" He demands, but I just end the call.

I shove my phone in my pocket, grab my handgun, and head out. I know I shouldn't be keeping things from Dean, but I'm trying to protect him. Can't he see that? Can't he see that that's all I'm trying to do? I just want him to be safe and sound and happy. I don't want this life for him. He's done too much to remain unhappy. I'd hand him the world if I could but I can't, so I'm hoping if keep finding ways to have him live, he'll find a way for him to become happy. In some way, shape, or form.

The house is run down, seemingly untouched for decades. The siding on the house looks like it was once a white or an off white, but now, from dirt, weather, and age, is more of a dark and grungy color. Most of it is falling off, crumbling, and looks like it could disintegrate at a mere touch. The shutters are either completely off, or hanging by a thread. Pieces are missing, the paint is completely stripped off, and they aren't doing anything to help the house.