Fighting Back (Fighting Through it All sequel *Dean Winchester fanfic*)

Chapter Four

I crack my knuckles, staring up the salmon ladder.

The pole is cold in my dusted hands as I pick it up. Taking a deep breath, I sprint forward, jumping up and hooking the pole onto the first bar. I pull myself up, quickly removing the pole and latching it onto the next bar. I continue it the whole way up, then hauling my self up, holding my waist at pole level, focusing on staying still.

I then slowly lower myself and swing my legs up, hooking them onto the pole and releasing my arms. I hang upside down, and cross my arms across my chest. I haul myself up, similar to a sit up, and then lower myself again. I do it repeatedly, until my torso burns, and then some mot. It's not until I hear the door open that I stop, and while hanging upside down, I look to see who it is.

Dean stands in the doorway, eyes gazing around until they lock on me. I groan as I grab onto the pole, haul myself up until I'm sitting on it, and then move into a crouching position, turning to look at Dean. He walks forward slowly, eyes filled with amazement. Just as he's about to come closer, I dive off, flipping a few times in the air before rolling into a standing position. I grunt, brushing myself off and waking over to the green eyed man.
"What are you?" He breathes. I chuckle, moving past him to grab my towel.
"Just a human," I answer, dabbing at my sweat soaked neck. "I mean," I turn around to face him, slinging my towel over my shoulder, "I was jacked up on angel blood for a while there, but I kicked it. It wasn't doing much for me."

His eyes go wide. I chew on the inside of my lip, putting my hands on my hips. His eyes rake me up and down, taking in every detail. I don't move, despite my urge to squirm under his intense gaze. I just give myself the hope that the more he looks at me, the more he recognizes me. And that through him recognizing me, he'll remember everything. It's a silly hope, a silly theory, one that I've played with in my mind, crazily praying that it will work. That amongst other theories, all of which I plan on testing.

"I came to ask you a question."

I look up at him, his words shaking my thoughts away, like birds fluttering from a tree at the sound of a gunshot. I raise my eyebrows, making a sound of acknowledgment to his statement. He scratches the back of his neck, pursing his lips and eyes flicking to the floor. I look at him apprehensively, wondering what he could possibly be asking me about. He looks back up, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.
"Do you know where my car keys are? I want to give that car a spin," He asks. I freeze, feeling stupid. I shake my head, running a hand over my hair.
"Uh, yeah," I reply. "Sam should have the keys. He had them last I checked."

He nods, thanks me, and heads out of the room. I stare at the closed door for a while after he leaves, wondering how it must be like to lose all your memories. Knowing other people know all about your entire life, yet you know nothing must be incredibly frustrating. Sitting at the dinner table as people reminisce, while you sit there completely in the dark with what they're talking about. You have no clue who these people are talking about. In reality, you barely know the people you're sitting with. You know that the Old You used be close to them, but you don't remember why. It must be lonely, not knowing how to start a conversation with someone because you don't know what they like to talk about.

I shake my head, heading off to the showers. I clean up quickly, heading back to my room and changing into new clothes. I toss my hair up in a towel, and grab my laptop off of my dresser. Sitting on my bed, I crack it pen, and go on Google. I quickly search different things on memory loss, and how some people gained their memory back. I search up different voodoo tricks on regaining memories, and write down a couple numbers.

Cracking out my cellphone, I begin calling them. Most of them seem like scams, people who claim they know "voodoo" before asking me to pay $40 for a voodoo healing. I hang up, puff out my cheeks, and run a hand over my hair. Suddenly, and idea clicks in my head. Praying to Cass, I get him to come to my room. He looks at my bed, where my loop is still open but my bed is covered in papers. He then looks at me, and asks what I need.
"I think I know how to help Dean," I explain. He straightens up, interest peaked.
"How so?" He questions, sitting in the chair beside my bed. I sit on the edge of my bed, crossing my legs.
"On the island, I stashed all kinds of supernatural emblems, relics, and amulets. Surely to God, there must be something there that can help Dean," I suggest. He nods.
"Perhaps. After you passed, I proceeded to move things from your heavenly home. It was much easier with Kiramin dead," I cringe at the sound of his name, then nod.
"Do you think y could take me? Help me dig some things up? I have a record of where I put everything left in my cabin there," I ask, making sure to bat my eyelashes some. Castiel nods, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Have you told Sam and Dean about this?" He asks. I shrug.
"It's a private operation," I say, standing up and turning around, beginning to clean up the papers.
"Myra..." Castiel says apprehensively. I turn around, a messy bundle of papers in my hands.
"Cass, trust me, this is something I want to do on my own. I just need your help transporting everything," I snap. He stands up, shaking his head.
"I won't do it unless we tell the brothers. They're just as big of a part of this as you," He snaps back. When the door opens, we both turn to it.
"What?" We both snarl.