Heart of a Hunter

7: Heavy Hearts

                                            Blair's POV:

The steady rumble of the Impala was the only thing keeping me grounded. Every bump in the road, every shift in the engine's hum, reminded me that I was still here—that I hadn't been swallowed by the darkness, even though it felt like it was pulling me under.

The sky outside had turned gray, clouds rolling in like a storm was about to break. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming, something I wasn't ready for. The quiet moments like these—the ones where everything seemed calm on the surface—were always the ones where I felt the most lost. Like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I could feel Sam's eyes on me every now and then, watching me through the rearview mirror. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. There was something in his gaze, this quiet concern, like he was trying to figure me out without pushing too hard. He was good at that—being there without smothering me. It was comforting, in a way.

Dean, on the other hand, had a different approach. He didn't want to sit in the silence for too long, and I could tell it was starting to get to him. Every now and then, he'd crack a joke or turn the music up louder, trying to fill the space with noise. He was good at distractions, but I wasn't sure how long they'd last.

My fingers tightened around Sam's jacket, still wrapped around me like a shield. It was ridiculous how much comfort I'd taken from that stupid jacket. Like it was holding me together when I couldn't hold myself up anymore. I didn't know why, but Sam's presence—his quiet strength—was the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart. And that scared me. I didn't want to depend on him. I didn't want to depend on anyone.

But here I was, sitting in the backseat of the Winchesters' car, wearing his jacket, and feeling like maybe—just maybe—I wasn't completely alone in this.

"We'll be stopping soon," Dean announced suddenly, breaking the silence as he adjusted the rearview mirror to glance at me. "Gotta refuel the car, and I'm guessing you could use a break too, huh?"

I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I really wanted to stop. The idea of getting out of the car, of facing the world outside, made my chest tighten. Out here, in the Impala, I was cocooned from everything. It was easier to pretend like I could handle this when I wasn't moving. But I couldn't stay here forever.

"Yeah, that's fine," I said quietly, forcing my voice to sound steady.

Dean didn't push, just nodded and kept driving. Sam stayed quiet, his eyes flicking between me and the road. I could feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air—whether I was okay, whether I'd make it through this. The truth was, I didn't have any answers. I didn't know how to process what had happened, how to survive when the people I loved were gone. I didn't know how to keep going.

All I knew was that I was still here.

When we finally pulled into a gas station, the world outside felt too big. The clouds overhead had thickened, dark and heavy, like they were ready to burst. The rain hadn't started yet, but it was coming. I could feel it in the air, thick with tension, like the sky was holding its breath.

Dean parked the car and stepped out, stretching as he made his way to the pump. Sam didn't move at first, just turned in his seat to look at me.

"You doing okay?" he asked softly.

I shrugged, not trusting my voice. I didn't want to say "no" because what good would that do? I wasn't okay, but I wasn't falling apart either. I was just... existing.

Sam seemed to understand. He nodded, then opened his door and stepped out. "I'll be right back," he said, his voice gentle, as if he knew I wasn't ready to be left alone for too long.

I watched him walk toward the gas station, his broad shoulders tense like he was carrying the weight of something heavy. Dean was leaning against the car, tapping his fingers on the roof as he waited for the pump to fill. He glanced at me, catching my eye for a second.

"Hey," Dean called out, giving me a lopsided grin. "You want anything from inside? Coffee? Snacks? Sam's paying."

I smiled faintly, though it felt foreign on my face. "No, I'm good."

Dean shrugged, clearly not convinced, but he didn't push. He just shot me a look that was somewhere between brotherly and protective, like he was trying to figure out how to deal with me. Then he followed Sam inside, leaving me alone in the car.

The silence pressed in on me, heavier now without the brothers here to fill it. The storm clouds seemed closer, darker. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, trying to force the panic away. My mind raced, images of the fire flashing behind my eyes—the screams, the smoke, the blood. My family, ripped away from me in an instant.

I sucked in a shaky breath, closing my eyes against the memory. It wasn't real. Not anymore. I was safe. Sam and Dean had saved me. But no matter how much I told myself that, the fear lingered, crawling under my skin like a weight I couldn't shake.

The door creaked open suddenly, and I flinched, my heart racing before I realized it was just Sam. His face softened as soon as he saw me, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Hey," he said quietly, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. "You okay?"

I didn't know how to answer. I didn't even know what "okay" felt like anymore.

"I—" I started, but my voice cracked, and I had to swallow back the lump in my throat. "I don't know."

Sam nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "That's okay. You don't have to know right now."

There it was again—that quiet reassurance. He never tried to fix things, never made empty promises that it would all be better soon. He just... understood. He understood that I didn't need fixing. I needed time.

"I don't know how to do this," I whispered, my fingers twisting in the fabric of his jacket. "How do you... how do you keep going after something like this?"

He leaned forward, his gaze soft but steady. "One day at a time. Sometimes one minute at a time. You don't have to have all the answers. You just have to keep going."

I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in. I didn't feel strong enough to keep going. But maybe I didn't have to be strong all the time. Maybe it was okay to lean on someone else, even if just for a little while.

When I opened my eyes, Sam was still watching me, his expression gentle, like he was waiting for me to catch my breath. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve his kindness—his patience—but I was grateful for it. More than I could put into words.

"Thanks," I said softly, not sure if he'd ever know how much I meant it.

Sam smiled, just a small curve of his lips, but it was enough. "Anytime."

We sat in silence after that, just waiting for the storm to break. The rain still hadn't come, but it was only a matter of time. And even though I didn't know what was coming next—whether we'd find the thing that killed my family or if I'd ever feel normal again—right now, in this moment, it was enough to just be here.

To know that I wasn't facing it alone.

Maybe that's all I needed. For now.