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After Sam had walked away, Dean insisted on being alone, but I expressed my concern about him being by himself at that moment. Standing there, I could see his mind working, plotting a plan. It was typical Dean Winchester behaviour to do something reckless. Although I wanted to step in and intervene, I decided to let Dean have his plan. If he needed my help, all he had to do was ask, even though he didn't.
Back at my apartment, I indulged in a long, relaxing bubble bath, allowing the warm water to soothe my tired limbs and wash away the dried blood from my skin. I embraced the tranquillity, cherishing the temporary escape from the Winchester drama. After an hour, reluctantly, I emerged from the comforting embrace of the bathwater. I spent the night alone and surprised myself by going to bed early, which was not my usual routine. However, after everything I had been through, I didn't resist the urge to surrender to sleep.
A day later, Dean sent a message, calling for an emergency meeting at Bobby's house. It was evident that he was going to reveal what he had done. I dressed appropriately for the occasion, opting not to wear a leather jacket for once. With a blink of an eye, I appeared in Bobby's kitchen, just as I heard Dean entering through the door. I stepped forward, the sound of my heels clicking against the floor alerting everyone to my presence.
Leaning against the door frame, I listened intently to Dean's explanation. He had died to make contact with Death and ask for his help.
"You what?!" Sam quickly interrupted, not allowing Dean to finish.
"Just hear me out," Dean defended his actions.
"I heard Cas and Crowley when they said it would either kill me or turn me to jello, Dean! I heard enough!" Sam's voice was filled with anger, his frustration evident.
"Death said he can put up a wall," Dean clarified, dismissing Sam's comment.
"A wall?" Sam sounded sceptical, and I shared his scepticism.
"Yes. Yes, wall – that – that basically, you wouldn't remember Hell," Dean explained not that confidently, as he didn't truly know how it worked. Just the basic.
"Really?" Sam's tone shifted to intrigue.
"Really," Dean replied, his confidence suggesting that it could work.
"For good? Like a cure?" Sam asked, hoping for a complete cure without any drawbacks. However, Dean averted his gaze, his eyes flickering between Bobby and me. It was clear that it wasn't a foolproof solution.
"No, it's not a cure. It," Dean admitted before refocusing on his brother. "He said it could last a lifetime." I let out a sigh, realizing that the drama never seemed to end.
"Great," Sam began as he walked around Dean, heading towards Bobby's living room desk. "So, playing pretty fast and loose with my life here, don't you think, Dean?" Sam's frustration was palpable as he circled around his brother, engaging in a heated argument.
