The Runt of the Litter

Control Is a Precious Commodity (Part VI)

Note: hey my loves, only one more part after this one! thank you so much for following along with this story <3

trigger warning in this chapter for disordered eating. 

i had a request for this a little while ago, and i've been working hard to do it justice. but the topic hits close to home for me, and i'm sure it does for a lot of you as well. so take care of yourselves and stop if you need to <3

Control Is a Precious Commodity (Part VI)

The bunker is calm and beautifully quiet for a few days. Anna sleeps half the time, takes her pills on a strict schedule, remembers in bits and pieces what went down in Kansas City.

It's three days after they get home that she realizes the ugly truth: She was possessed.

She wakes up in a cold sweat, breathing like she's been underwater for a lifetime. She's in her bedroom, and it's blessedly empty. Her hand is throbbing, a sure sign it's almost time for her next dose of painkillers.

Anna rolls out of bed and stands still for a second, riding out a dizzy spell. She stares at her closed bedroom door, pulling her hand in toward her chest. There's a pit in her stomach begging her not to leave the safe isolation of her room. But louder is her conscience, begging for the truth, for accountability.

She steps into the kitchen a few minutes later and relishes the warmth as it washes over her. She can smell muffins in the oven and knows Dean's making them for her benefit. Sam might like muffins, but Dean would always rather have bacon and eggs. It's one of the few boring things about him.

"Smells good," she says quietly and heads straight for the coffee pot. She can only drink one cup of coffee each morning for now, so she uses the biggest mug in the cupboard. It's probably twice the size of your standard coffee cup, which makes Anna feel proudly like she's cheating the system. What do they call it? Malicious compliance?

"Only the best for you, Rugrat," Dean teases and twists a knob on the stove. "You better eat some friggin eggs, though, too. You gotta have some protein somewhere."

Anna rolls her eyes and inhales deeply, holding her coffee near her nose.

"Alright, you little addict, sit down. I'll get you a plate."

He's already got the cupboard open when Sam steps in. He's not the last to wake, though. He's wearing his running clothes, and his hair is damp with sweat.

"I'm tellin' you, Sammy, you were switched at birth."

Sam's laugh is huffy as he opens the fridge and pops out with a bottle of water. "Shut up," he tells Dean and twists off the cap. He swallows some water and looks to Anna. "You know, you're really not supposed to mix caffeine with pain killers."

"Yeah, and you're not supposed to run with a stick up your ass either," Anna snarks. She's got a feeling she'll be able to get away with that remark, and her theory is proven true when Dean barks a laugh.

"She's got you there, man."

Sam is watching her with a disbelieving smirk. "I wasn't switched at birth," he complains. "You two are just the same friggin' person." He shakes his head and makes for the doorway again, "I'm gonna hit the showers."

"Yeah," Dean acknowledges and slides a plate of food in front of Anna. "How's the hand?"

"Still stabbed."

"Funny girl," Dean deadpans. He retrieves his coffee mug from the counter and sits across from her with a tired grunt. "Lemme see." He waves her hand toward him, and Anna complies without arguing. She's got to eat with her left hand either way.