Heaven's So Far Away - A Sam Winchester X Female Reader Fic

Chapter 29

Y/N's POV

Ironic...isn't it?

That for months now I've been hunting crossroads demons...throwing myself in the line of fire, using myself as bait, hacking and slashing my way through dozens of black-eyed bitches...and slowly learning to get a handle on my fear. Learning how to roll with the punches...learning how to develop a tougher skin...basically forcing myself to learn how to handle the Winchester way of life.

But despite all the dangers and risks I've faced these past few months....despite all the chances I've had to be scared out of my ever-loving mind...I truthfully wasn't...not once I got the hang of it.

And now...knowing that Dean had most likely told Sam everything...knowing that they were on their way to come get me...picturing what in the world Sam's reaction would be...

Now...I'm downright terrified.

So yeah, I'd say that's pretty ironic. 

I'm still not exactly sure where my mental state rests when it comes to the borderline of healthy and certifiable at this point in time...but I will admit now, I know the severity of what I've done...especially after having Dean spell it out for me. 

It felt wrong...but only because I knew I had to keep it a secret from them...only because I knew I was doing exactly what they didn't want me to do. In every other aspect, however...it felt...right. It felt good.

Of course, the biggest factor as far as my downward spiral goes, was my inability to stomach sitting at home and being clueless and worried and terrified while Sam was out there doing God knows what. I just couldn't fully bring myself to understand what it is he does while out on the road...and after everything that happened with Ruby and the demon blood...I found it incredibly difficult to take what Sam says at face value.

But that downward spiral can also be attributed to the fact that I just didn't know what role I was supposed to play here. I mean look at my life after Sam left Stanford...look at what I did, what I accomplished. 

I was so lost and adrift back then...and then one day I stood up and said 'no more'. If I don't have Sam to live for, then I needed to start living for myself. I defied the odds, I made something of myself...I dedicated every single aspect of my life to helping people. That was my purpose...that was what kept me waking up every single day. 

And then...they found me. Then I was thrown into the unexplainable, the impossible and the devastating. I'd let everything I'd built for myself crumble around me... for him. The bad news kept coming, the lies kept flowing, the blood kept being shed...and it felt like...I gave up having a purpose...just to have absolutely none.

Sure, one may argue that my purpose was to be there for Sam. Be there for him to collapse onto whenever he happens to come home...but it wasn't enough. I could wipe his tears, help him relieve some stress...but what was I really doing besides just sitting there and watching him get crushed beneath the weight of all this? What was I doing besides taking up space and being a burden while my mind slowly became unraveled? 

When he came home soaked in that blood...I knew I wasn't doing damn near enough. And I felt like I wasn't enough, period...because I just didn't understand it all enough to justify being a reliable support system for any of them.