Destiny ~ Dean Winchester (love story), part two

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xAngie POVx

Sleep, Sam had said. I wouldn't call this sleep; I'd call this torture if I had to name it.

I woke up, my throat hurting like I had been screaming forever and my pulse racing like I had just run a marathon. It was getting worse, so much worse. My sheets were ruined once again, my open wounds hurting. The scenario itself looked like a violent animal had attacked me in my sleep. I couldn't take this anymore. I just slept, and still, I've never been this tired.

At this moment, I had forgotten why I refused to tell anyone, why I tried to hide this so desperately. I had taken my phone and typed the number in before I even realized what I was doing. It took Justin exactly four seconds to answer my call, not that I was surprised, he had never been difficult to reach, not back in our childhood, nor after our reconciliation.

"Lia. Are you okay?" I felt guilty about how worried he sounded; I didn't call him often, so he just assumed that something was wrong, and the worst part was that he was absolutely right.

"I'm pretty sure Isabel's ghost is haunting me." There, I said it. Wasn't so bad, was it?

"She was a monster," he stated matter-of-factly. "It's no surprise that yo-"

"No," I interrupted him immediately. "No, I mean literally."

"What?" If this situation wasn't already so fucked up, maybe I would've laughed at his shocked tone. His reaction was a rare outburst of emotion, usually he didn't intuitively respond like this.

"Like in my dreams. She's- she's making me hurt myself in my sleep. When I wake up, I'm sliced. I tried everything. I even cuffed myself; it doesn't stop her. Nothing does." I didn't want to sound this pathetic, and still, I did. I had to make him understand how serious this was.

"It's not her ghost; that's impossible." He said it like he had to comfort a little broken animal. Like a father who had to convince his daughter that there was actually no monster under her bed. And even though I couldn't see his facial expressions right now, I knew that he pitied me.

"Justin, my existence is impossible. So don't tell me I'm fucking crazy." I knew that I was being a bitch, maybe ungrateful even, because the poor guy was just trying to help me but for now he had to believe me that it was Isabel. He just had to.

"Okay," he sighed, not arguing about this anymore. I knew that this didn't automatically mean that he was convinced, it just meant that he was excellent at choosing his battles. "We will figure this out. I'm glad that you came to me." I made a grimace because he used a typical psyachrist phrase- not that I've ever seen one, but I'd imagine it exactly like that. Only thing missing was the vintage sofa. "Since when has this been happening?"

"A while," I lied.

Silence. I knew that he wasn't responding on purpose; it was one of the simplest interrogation techniques ever. On top of that, he was the one who had taught it to me, and still, I gave in. "Since Lucifer rose, it's gradually getting worse."

"Dammit."

"You cursed.", I stated, once again surprised.

"You left me no choice. I'm coming to you; don't fall asleep again until I'm there." He said it like that was actually probable. If I wasn't so exhausted, I'd have laughed. I needed to calm down. Justin would help me kill my mom-again-and then I could put this behind me. The coldness and my inability to cry were surely connected to that bitch, so I'd just be normal when she was gone. Or, in my case, as normal as I could ever be.

This and this confusing friendship that I shared with Dean were starting to drive me crazy. I just didn't know what to expect from him or if I should even expect anything at all. He was making me feel too much, and I didn't like it.