The Dotted Line

Twenty Two

Castiel burst through the door, dropping a half eaten cheeseburger on the floor. Dean immediately releases me and I scurry toward the angel, wrapping my arms around his legs.

"We- Sam needs your help."

I hear Dean move around behind me, Castiel trying to politely pull himself away from me.

Everything in myself told me that I didn't care about whatever Castiel was talking about. I knew I should care, that it was important, but the cord wasn't plugged into the socket.

I was supposed to care about getting Famine's ring. I shouldn't want Sam to be in danger. And I wasn't supposed to have the right to be worrying about who loved me or not.

Dean's voice cracks from above my place on the floor. "Where is he?"

"The diner across the street."

Dean grips my arm and pulls me off the ground. I follow him and Castiel out of the motel and toward the diner. I would go where they went, I would go where there were people. I needed to be close to someone.

As they ran ahead of me, I could already hear loud noises from the street. The sun hand set an hour ago, the only light was that which was inside the restaurant. Dean pushed open the doors, letting Castiel and I come in behind him.

I caught the last second before Famine slumped down in his chair, withered and finally dead. Every demon in the room was laying on the ground or slumped lifelessly against a wall, Sam's enormous back turned to us.

With Famine gone, I straightened, my motivation coursing through my blood once again.

"Sammy?" Dean's worried tone was strange. I'd never heard him scared before.

Sam doesn't respond. He moves to Famine, bends over, and pulls off the bulky silver ring on his right hand.

When he turns around to us, I gasp, unable to help myself. The entire bottom half of his face was doused in blood. There was so much that it dripped from his chin onto his shirt.

Dean outstretched a hand in front of me, Castiel stepping in front of both of us.

"Sam, what the hell is going on?"

Sam's lax eyes flit toward Dean then toward me. "I got it, let's go." He tries to move past us and toward the door, but Dean steps in front of him.

"No, what the fuck were you thinking? Demon blood? I thought you were past this shit!" Dean was furious, forcefully pushing Sam backward.

"Dean," Castiel warily mouths, eyeing Sam.

"Move." Sam was cold, entirely uncharacteristically dead eyed. It almost scared me.

"No."

Then, Sam puts his hands on Dean's shoulders and throws him across the diner. He hits the side of a metal table with the wind knocked out of him, slumping down.

Sam moves to walk back over to him, but I step in between them.

My stomach twisted when he looked at me, so lifelessly, murderously. Dean and Castiel both told me to move, but I wouldn't.

"Do you think just because I fucked you that you're gonna be able to stop me?"

All the air leaves my lungs. But he wanted to hurt me, humiliate me. I wouldn't let him do that. I raise my eyebrows and say nothing.

Sam smirks, finding it all very amusing. "It's honestly pathetic how easily you ran back to us. I guess you grew up to be a pretty big whore."

I clench my jaw and forcefully smile at him to hide my rage.

When he's sick of trying to get a reaction out of me, he flicks his wrist toward the wall, intending to get me out of the way, but I don't. His eyes narrow and he tries again, but I stay still.

"Even with all that demon blood, you still can't overpower me." I sounded confident, but I was really surprised he hadn't been able to. I'd held my breath up until the second he flicked his hand.

"I'll just have to kill you with my bare hands."

My eyes widen and I think quickly as he jolts forward. I wrap my hand around his shoulder and whisper "somnum" into his ear just as his fist collides with my cheek.

We both fall to the ground at the same time. Luckily, I was still awake; he wasn't.

"Where'd he get you?" Dean was already there, reaching a cautious hand toward me.

I pull away and look confusedly at him. Nothing had changed between us, he needed to know that. "It won't hold him for more than two hours tops. How long does that stuff affect him for."

"It'll stay in his system unless we detox him again."

I stand up by myself, gingerly touching my cheek bone. He hadn't split the skin, the impact was just so hard that I was sure my cheekbone had to be fractured, but Castiel would fix that.

I brush off my clothes, remembering the frayed skin of my wrists. "I should have let him kill you," I tell Dean, shoving past him and Castiel to get a breath of fresh air.

Whenever demons were exorcised or killed, if their vessel had previously died, a rapid form of the decaying process of the body would jumpstart. There were about six demons in the diner; it smelled terrible.

I walked back toward the motel, calming myself down. There were so many things that had happened in the span of an hour or two that I felt like I hadn't stopped to breathe.

I'd humiliated myself in front of everyone, begging for someone to love me. The worst part was, no one tried to make me feel better. They'd all just 'handled the problem.' Then I did a shoddy job at slitting my wrists and Dean had to save me from premature suicide.

And lastly, we walk in on Sam's blood orgy and he decides to humiliate me some more. I knew, objectively, the demon blood had some kind of effect on him to where he wasn't in his right mind, but I hadn't even known he was drinking it in the first place. And, apparently, thanks to Dean, I'd devised that it was an ongoing problem for him.

I hadn't ever heard of anyone drinking demon blood. I had no idea what purpose it served, but, I guess it turned one into a power hungry asshole with telekinetic abilities. High or not, Sam had no right to talk to me like that. This was one of the harder things to forgive and forget, I'd felt like I'd already let him get away with so much.

Now, I was on the outskirts with both Dean and Sam. I had nowhere to stand and I was panicked.

I could try to run again, but Crowley would find me even quicker this time and assuredly take my soul. I really didn't want to die if I didn't have to; I'd avoid it at all costs.

I couldn't forgive Sam either. I knew he wouldn't have actually said those things to me if he hadn't been cruising, but some part of him, somewhere, did think of them. The worst part was that I had been so blind. He had blood on his towel when I came to his room that night, he'd been getting high, or whatever, when he opened the door for me. Then he fucked me while juiced on demon blood. Any girl could've knocked on that door and he would've done the same thing. It'd meant absolutely nothing.

I had no leeway with anyone else, no other options. I had to stay where I was, with who I was. I could regret having sex with Sam all I wanted, but it wouldn't take away the fact that I did it. Nothing I could do would erase any of my past actions. All that I was capable of was following orders when I received them and cursing both Winchester brothers in the back of my head.

I had entirely run out of the last flake of luck I had left. I was fucked.