If Heaven Wasn't So Far Away

Oops

Well, I haven't documented our adventures lately, but I believe I have valid reasoning; we've been unbelievably busy. For starters, there's a third Winchester kid. His name's Adam, but he's now the vessel of Michael, the archangel, and is currently in the Pit with Satan.
Sam was Lucifer's vessel. He's such a fucking idiot. He's strong, yes, but not strong enough to control Satan; he's only human. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen.
Sammy was, however, able to take control for just a moment; long enough to throw both himself and Michael into the Cage.
Dean was a fucking mess. I pretended to be okayish. Dean tried at first, but I guess he gave up. He drank far too much, but still managed to go about a semi normal life. By normal, I mean normal. No hunting. Sam said so. Dean even made friends.
I didn't. I made agonizingly boring small talk with his friends' wives, though.
We pretended to be a couple, but only made enough contact to pull off the charade. We both cried a lot, and we're unbearably bored with the apple-pie life Sam had made us promise to pursue. We both missed him so, so much.
"Morning." Dean said, coming into the kitchen.
"Hey." I glanced up from my book.
That's the only good thing about this: I get to read a lot more.
"You good?"
"Fine, you?"
"Yeah." He said. "Let's--" he paused, listening to the music. "Heat of the Moment."
"Please don't."
He did.
He reached over and turned up the radio until nothing else could be heard. Dean started screaming along. "It was the heat of the moment, tellin' me what your heart meant! The heat of the moment, showed in your eyes! Sing, Lexie!" He yelled, pulling me to my feet.
Laughing, I shook my head, reaching over and turning it down a little.
"C'mon, don't make me look like an idiot by myself."
So I joined him.
The song ended, and I turned it down to a normal volume. Laughing, I put my head on his chest. "You're such a weirdo."
"Love you too."
"Mhmm." I grinned. "C'mon, we have to go. You agreed to lunch with Jason and Ella."
"Why can't you just make friends with her? She's nice enough."
"We have none of the same views. I may hate the south, but I'm still a southern girl with conservative views."
"We don't have any of the same views."
"We have stuff in common. Or did. But I'm not just leaving you, so..."
"Why?"
"Dean, you would literally fall apart."
"I would not! I'm fine." He said as he poured whiskey into his coffee.
Okay, I'm done.
I took the cup from him and threw it hard as I could across the room. "You fucking son of a bitch. I'm not a fucking idiot, Dean! I'm very painfully aware that you're a lying, drunk asshole. Some fucking way to honor your brother's wishes! I'm not fucking wanting you to sell your fucking soul, but I sure as hell want you to get off your ass and do something about this shit. Sam is gone, Dean. He's gone. I get it, I do. You loved him, he's your brother, and you loved him. He was my boyfriend, and I fucking loved him too, but you don't see me turning myself into a good-for-nothing, worthless shit, do you? If it wasn't for sympathy and pity, I would kick your ass, and I don't think you understand just how close I am to doing it anyways. Touch one more fucking drop of alcohol, and I swear to God I'll fucking kill you. I bet you always thought you'd go down fighting, huh? Well at this rate, it'll be liver failure." I realized I was yelling and dropped my voice. "Call Jason and tell him we have to take a rain check." I pushed past bum and went to my room, immaturely slamming the door.
I was so angry. So, so angry. And sad. Unbelievably sad. I wanted to scream and cry and kick and punch, and I wanted to chop up a damn demon. The next thing that comes through the door is getting their larynx crushed. I didn't even worry about the violence and truth of that statement.
I took a knife from under my pillow and slashed it into my scarred wrist.
I had gone too deep, and I knew it. Anger, however, was still flooding my veins, so I did it twice more. This was the best I'd felt in months.
I should call Dean in here, but I don't want to. I'm sure as hell ready to die, and I don't want him to stop me.
"Oh my God, Lexie, no!" He yelled, running over. He slid his shirt over his head and wrapped it tightly around my arm. "No fucking way in hell are you dying." He was crying as he called 9-1-1.
"Don't touch me." I growled.
"You're right," he hissed, kneeling in front of me. "You're right. I would fall a part without you. I'm so sorry, Lexie."
"I didn't mean to..." Shit. I don't want him seeing me vulnerable. "Get the fuck off me."
"Don't move!" He exclaimed, but I shook him off me and pulled myself up onto the bed. "Stop!"
"Don't tell me what to do."
Blood was soaking through his shirt. "You asshole." I said. "That was a nice shirt. And do you know who has to go out and buy them for you? Me. So I'd appreciate it if--"
"You mean Santa Claus doesn't bring them...?"
"Sorry, kiddo." I laughed, despite my anger and blood loss.
"That's my line." He grinned, but it was one of those smiles you give the dying person the demon just got out of after stabbing them. He had stopped crying, I'll give him that. He got a towel from the bathroom and began to replace his shirt with it.
"I buy the towels too."
"I pay for them."
"So do I." I pulled it away from him. "I can do it."
"You take care of me, let me take care of you."
So I did.
My vision was spinning and blurring, but I wasn't gonna tell him that.
He pushed his fists into his eyes and murmured, "Stop crying, damn it."
"I'm not." I said.
"I'm talking to me."
I held my usable arm out to him and he sat beside me. I pulled him to me and hugged him, kissing the top of his head. "It's okay, sweetie."
I'm always so torn about how to treat him. He's several years my elder, so I should respect him, but he's also a really, really close friend and a really big idiot, so I feel I should act maternally. His momma died when he was little, and he was raised by his dad, and practically raised his brother, so he could use some feminine influence. And he is so, so immature, normally that would piss me off, which is one of the reasons why my sister and I didn't get along, but with Dean it was adorable.
"I can't believe you called them." I snapped as harshly as I could, what with the hemorrhaging and everything. I slumped against him. I tried to pull myself up, but couldn't even open my eyes,
He kissed my forehead. "You'll be okay." He whispered, holding me against him. "God..."
He thought I was unconscious. I wasn't. I was aware of everything, just couldn't move. My body felt too heavy.
Dean dissolved into hysterics.
I felt awful. I told him this would happen. I warned him. But he stuck around anyways. Never again would I do this. I hadn't realized I could wreak this much havoc.
I felt him lift me up. He was taking me to the car. This bitch'll get us both killed.

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Hey, y'all. I'm exceedingly apologetic about the lack of updates. Ugh, I've been busy. Anyways, hope y'all are doing well.
~Charlie George