Heal You (Part II)

For Emma

Dean

I rolled over, burying my face deeper into the pillow. It's okay Dean, Sam's alright. He's back to normal. I let out a long breath, flipping onto my other side. I stared at the dark outline of Sam, tucked under the blankets, unable to fall asleep. I haven't been been able to sleep since, well since about a year ago. I felt that sick feeling in my stomach begin to bubble up again so I flipped back onto my other side, readjusting my head on the pillow. 

Just breathe Dean. All of its over now. Everything's okay. I had to repeat the mantra in my head over and over again until finally, my eye lids began to droop and my brain finally began to relax, allowing me to fall asleep. 

My eyes pried open as I heard Sam shuffling in bed. I figured it was another one of his night mares because he got those a lot. He never really talked about them or what they were about but I caught him mumbling her name a few times which only broke my heart more. I sat up as I heard an electronic beeping noise, my eyes turning to Sam. "Hello?" his sleepy voice answering the phone. 

I propped myself up on my arm, staring at Sam as I watched his face contort in confusion and worry which made my stomach drop. Who was it? Bobby? Cas? God were they okay? My heart pounded in my chest. "Scott, Scott calm down" Sam told him. For a moment, I lost my breath. It felt like someone had sucker punched me and knocked the wind straight from my lungs. Scott McCall, the name that had once been so common, so familiar, rung in my head.

Ever since what happened, we had barely stayed in touch. It was more frequent at first, the calls that is. It was every week or so, updating each other on how things were going and how we were coping after what had happened and after the apocalypse. Besides Bobby, they were all I had to talk to when Sam was gone and without a soul. Sam and I helped them figure out what to do about the Darache and Alpha pack in Beacon Hills. But once that problem died down, the calls became less frequent and we got a call maybe once a month. It was hard for us to talk to each other every time we did all we could think about was her and that made us hurt and ache while we were trying so hard to recover.

"Scott, take a deep breath. I'm putting you on speaker phone" Sam told him, hitting a button and holding the phone out between our two beds. The first thing I picked up on was Scott's ragged breathing. "Okay Scott, what's wrong?" Sam asked, trying to keep a calm tone. 

"Its Stiles" Scott sputtered. I felt my skin grow cold, goose bumps raising on my arms. Stiles Stilinski, the human in a supernatural pack .Stiles Stilinski, the love of her life. Stiles Stilinski, the once sarcastic spaz who is now quiet and dark, usually on a fair amount of pain medication. Stiles Stilinski, the boy who lost his love and struggles with it every day. "Um he's-he's missing" Scott stuttered. 

"For how long?" Sam asked, earning a confused glance from me as to how he was able to stay so calm. He was acting like this was a regular case with regular people but it wasn't. It was so far from that. 

"I-I-I don't know" Scott sounded like he was on the verge of tears which was understandable when your best friend was lost. Especially after he had lost his other best friend. "He called me an hour ago and his voice was ragged and confused. He was crying and he said it smelled where he was and he said-said it was cold. Its the coldest night of the year and if he's out there somewhere he could-he could-" Scott became hysterical. 

"I understand" Sam interrupted. "Is Lydia there?" Sam asked, cutting off Scott. Scott was getting us no where useful and we needed someone calm and level headed.  I heard him mumbled something before there was rustling on the other end.

"Hey guys" Lydia's voice was familiar and surprisingly calming, an image of red hair flashing in my eyes. 

"Lydia, we're only an hour away from Beacon Hills. Do you need us to come there? To help find Stiles?" Sam asked and I slapped him with my hand. I was so not ready to go back there and face them. Face that place that was covered with her memory. I don't know if I could handle myself there, not to mention rescuing others.