Supernatural... But Better (Vol. I)

Chapter Nineteen

I woke up in a cold sweat... again.

Running a hand through my hair, I tried to force my heart to stop beating so fast. As much as I hated to admit it, the fact that I was essentially sandwiched in between Sam and Dean was pretty comforting. But it was also a bit nerve-wracking, as I was afraid of waking them up with my nightmares.

Falling back against the pillow, I sighed softly. The more I hunted, the better the nightmares would become. At least, that was the way it had been before. Eventually, they'd have to leave again, and then....

And then what? I'd walk away from hunting again, too? Leave behind Sam and Dean? Go back to living a normal, suburban life built off of lies?

I stared at the ceiling, thinking. Was my life really that much better before? The reason I'd wanted to leave the huntress life was because the man who'd trained me had always stressed that the hunting would always separate me from everyone else. He'd said it would isolate me. I wanted to escape so that I could have a real life with real friends and stuff like that. But even then, they weren't really my friends. Not while I was lying to them about who I was. But with Sam, with Dean... I didn't have to hide, because they knew. They were hunters, too. Even though I'd gone back to that life, I wasn't alone any longer, because I had them. Hunting alongside them was quickly becoming the highlight of what had been a long, lonely, and pretty miserable life. I didn't want to be without them.

"Annabeth?" Glancing over, I watched as Sam sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the side. I could only see him a little in the darkness. "Are you awake?"

"He—" I cleared my throat, getting rid of the last remnants of sleep. "Hey," I whispered, sitting up myself. "Nightmares?"

He rubbed his face in his hands. "Yeah. What about you?"

I turned so that I was facing him. "Same."

Extending my feet out in front of me to stretch them, I frowned at how stiff my ankles were. If they were like that, my wrists were probably worse. Worried, I carefully stretched them out as well, trying not to hurt them much, but the second I bent them backwards....

"Ah!" I gasped, forcing myself to remain quiet for Dean's sake, but damn, that stung.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, nursing my hands. "Yeah, no, I'm fine, it's just— my wrists."

Standing, he came over to sit next to me on the bed, reaching for my hand. Cautiously, I let him take it, and he gently rubbed his thumbs along the back of it, massaging out some of the stiffness.

"Is that helping?"

Looking up at him, I nodded. "Yeah, it is. Thank you."

We sat in silence for a little bit. I felt bad that he had done so much to help me, but there wasn't really any way for me to repay him. The only thing bothering him were his nightmares, but he'd said before that he didn't really want to talk about them. But, he'd also said that he would listen to me whenever I wanted to talk about my nightmares. Maybe... if I talked about mine, maybe he'd feel more comfortable talking about his, and I could help him.

Sam switched to my other wrist, giving me a look that I could see better as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. "What are you thinking about?"

I took a deep breath. "My nightmares."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Nodding, I turned so that I was looking directly at him instead of just sitting next to him. "They're not always the same. Sometimes, I'm just reliving my parents' death, the exact way it happened. Other times, it feels like I'm sort of floating, I can't see or feel anything, but I can hear their screams, and they just get louder and louder until I realize I'm the one who's screaming, and I wake up. Those are almost worse, because I just know what's happening without even having to see it. And, sometimes— I rarely have these anymore, but— sometimes I dream about... after."

Sam let his hands rest on his leg, not letting go of my wrist. "We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to."

I shook my head, steadying myself, and slowly explaining. "No, it's fine. I... I dream about— about the neighbors calling the cops because I couldn't stop screaming, and being dragged out of my room and sitting in my front yard, surrounded by police cars and ambulances with their sirens drowning out everything— and people running around shouting at each other and telling the neighbors that no, they can't come any closer, because two people have been murdered, and it's an active crime scene, and the killer's nowhere to be found— and paramedics trying to figure out if the blood I'm covered in is mine, or just from my parents, while simultaneously trying to deal with my sister who wouldn't stop crying because she was too young to fully understand what was going on— and cops trying to talk to me to see if I caught a glimpse of the killer, but all I can do is sit there and stare at the house and ramble mindlessly about... ghosts."

Sam squeezed my hand comfortingly. "The aftermath is the worst part, because no one believes you when you say it wasn't human, so you still have to pretend like it was. And even when you know it was taken care of, they're still looking for a murderer."

I looked at him, the only person who'd ever actually understood that. "Exactly. And they're— they're reopening my family's cases, which I already know is a lost cause, but it means they're going to want to talk to the only eyewitness, and—"

"And you're tired of having to explain yourself," he finished for me, looking down at my hands. "Well, that's one benefit of hunting— you never stick around long enough to be asked to explain yourself."

Breathing a laugh, I nodded. "You're not wrong."

Sam shrugged, looking out the window, which was just starting to show the lightening sky. "But, then again, that's also a downside. You're never anywhere long enough to actually put down roots, and any of the friends you make along the way, you have to lie to."

The hollowness of his voice resonated with me. He was... lonely. I'd just seen proof that he'd made some very good friends in college, and he'd had to leave all of them behind when he started hunting again. He still kept in touch with them, but just like Dean had said, it probably wasn't the same. Lying to someone, even by omission... it was never the same.

"Hey," I said softly, squeezing his hands, which got his attention again. "I know you've had to leave behind a lot of your friends, but you're not alone. I mean, you have Dean," I reminded him, partly as a joke, which did make him laugh. "And... you have me, for what it's worth," I added, more serious.

Sam looked at me then, really looked at me, as if he wasn't really just looking, but he saw me, too. "It's worth a lot."