Broken Blood

Hey, Didn't You Abandon Me?

I don’t know how long Dean held me there, but when he finally pulled away all I wanted was more time. I look at him through clouded eyes to find a wide smile spread across his face. I examine this face, he seems older, his eyes more warn than they had been, I mess his hair with one hand and smile. I look over and Sam smiles at me, I quickly move to him, shuffling on my knees with my arms stretched out. I huff a giant sigh of relief as he grabs hold of me, the absolute impossible then becomes real, and while it was an extremely happy moment, it ultimately meant something else too. Also, something was missing.

We sit around the dining room table, the mood is much less joyous and loving, as each moment passes more questions form in my head. Things only logical for me to ask, but that were blocked by the sudden rush of happiness that had enveloped me when I realized my brothers were alive. But now they float back slowly, one after another. As I think, they watch me with anticipation.

They told me dad was dead, there arose a dull ach in me to realize I would never see him again, but I push the feeling down for the time being. “So…” I began slowly, unable to completely wrap my mind around the thought behind this question, “if you were alive…why didn’t you ever come back?”. I look at them, see their eyes shift away from me, over at each other. A small spark lights deep inside me somewhere, I feel the first flicker of a passionate flame that has yet to be fully realized. The silence draws one, gradually the anger grows, and as it does words slip through my lips, more and more they are tainted with bitterness.

“You…guys…you just left me?….why would you do that?”, I ask in half disbelief, I feel my eyebrows stitching tightly together, my face is surely twisting in confusion. “We didn’t do it on purpose Quinn…” Sam says, his eyebrows clearly show his expression of concern and… guilt? “we just…sort of…”. The silence falls back into the room, and I realize before he can speak again what he means to say, my mouth falls slightly ajar. A rush of hot anger swells up inside me, accompanied by a horrible sadness, together the two emotions nah and chew on my gut and I wonder for a moment if I’m dieing. My throat begins to close up and the words I speak next have to be choked down, I throw my glance to the floor, “you forgot me” I struggle out the words carefully.

The fire is raging and my entire body is hot, anger burns up my thoughts and all I want to do is scream at them, but my throat is closed almost completely. “Quinn, we didn’t MEAN to” Dean says, I scoff loudly, standing I move away from them as I speak “yeah, forgetting someone ENTIRELY just happens over night, you don’t have to avoid seeing them at all!” I choke out the sentence and realizing I can hardly breath I move to the cabinet above the stove, surely I have something to help my breathing. Sam stands and follows me, we stand in the middle of the kitchen, he tries to catch my arm but I quickly swivel away, out of his reach “Quinn, we never wanted to avoid you! Things just got so crazy with dad-” “you didn’t want to involve me!, I slipped your mine for months at a time! Or you forgot me all together!” I spin to face them, tears burn in my eyes and my words are dry and scratchy as they burst their way out of my throat “which came first?” I ask defiantly.

“Hey!” Dean calls sternly, he stands and walks up beside Sam, I glare at them both “believe me, takin’ a vacation to come see you would have been the FIRST thing we did if we have the chance!” I blow a puff of air out of my throat “SO, in FIVE YEARS you didn’t have a free SECOND to wonder weather or not I thought you were DEAD?!” I yell, Dean takes an angry huff before saying : “there were THINGS we NEEDED to DO!” I shake my head, “well,I needed you…”. The room quiets into silence again and my eyes fall to the ground. I feel my cheeks are wet and quickly wipe away tears with the back of my hand as I struggle to compose myself, *1...2.…3...4. 2...2.…3.…4...* I count in my head and try to calm my breathing. “Look, Quinn” Sam begins gently, “we’re sorry we left you alone, we never meant to, but we’re here now…we wont leave you again…”, I stare up at the both of them, they look back down at me. Sam is hopeful, Dean is worried, both are frustrated but trying to place a cool sheen over it *they’re still my brothers*.

They start setting up camp, Sam in the spare bedroom and Dean on the couch. I watch them unpack from in front of my painting room door, sitting cross-legged I scan my eyes over guns and ammo, maps, amulets, charms, and vials. Whenever they cast their eyes to me I go rigid, sitting up straight and  pulling together my anger again so I'm sure they know I have yet to fully forgive them. They sigh, and continue with their tasks.

I sit in front of the door feeling somewhat as if I were guarding the paintings inside. With Sam and Dean actually here I was afraid the entire room would seem like some sort of weird shrine to them, and I could go without a conversation about how painful it was to paint them while thinking they had died…well…that they had ALL died. The two work around me, whatever work they’re doing. Laying down lines of salt, setting up their guns right beside their sleeping areas. I’ve always known my family were a bunch of hunting fanatics, but I wasn’t sure just how salt was expected to lure a deer into shooting range. But, as I said, I wont ask, and I’m sure they aren’t prepared to explain.

I sit watching my brothers also because part of me still can’t believe they’re actually here. I had accepted that they were lost to me forever and now here they are, carting guns and salt from room to room around my apartment. A strange visual, I know.

Stretching one arm out -paintbrush gripped firmly in my hand- I use my free hand to cover my mouth as a drowsy yawn takes place. Afterwards I can’t help but slouch down, chin resting in my hand, elbow resting on my leg. Sitting here calmly, I feel myself drifting into sleep but don’t want to move into my room, or even think about moving.

What I AM thinking about, is my medicine. The fact that I’m sleepy instead of dead bolt awake the way I am without my pills tells me that they’re working. Meaning that there is no possible way I could be hallucinating. I peak into the living room, Dean is pulling the blinds shut. I turn and crane my neck to pear into the spare room, Sam is tweaking a knob on a small, black, electrical box. I sit back upright and smile as my last few remaining specks of doubt are finally wiped away.

　

　

*Blood red walls of fire surround me and smoke as thick as syrup burns in my lungs. I scream until my throat is shredded, scratching at the chains constricting me until my nails rip from my fingertips. Blaring far above my thinking is an impossibly loud scrapping, the sound pierces deep into my brain, blanking out all over sound. I scream and try to wrench myself out of my binding, begging and pleading and crying…but the pain never subsides. I’m naked, wrapped from head to toe in white hot scolding iron bars, the pain is so intense that it seems to exist from within me. It’s so hot that the tears I form dry long before they can fall. As always, I’m screaming for my brothers, and my father. My eyes burn but I see through them the figures in the distance, thousands, prisoners like me all in various stages of torture, all shriveled and broken and burned beyond all recognition. They exist now as hideous black skeletons, the living organs and meat scolded off, they wiggle about, trying to escape their eternal torment, the pain that wont stop ringing through their bodies, burning them deep into their charred bones. They scream, bones moving as if still existing within skin, their jaws open wide and strangled screams raise out of them. I feel an impossible hopelessness as I realize this is my fate, I shall burn just as they are burning. Forever.

“QUINN!!”

I am shaken awake. I open my eyes to find Dean, his hands gripping my shoulders, staring back at me. Sam stands just behind him, they look at me with wide, horrified eyes. I struggle to catch my breath, my heart is racing and I’m sweating much worse than I had been last night, I feel my shirt clinging to my collar bone. “You alright?” Sam asks, I nod, but I’m not so sure.

I’d never had a nightmare like that, most of my nightmares are about being a child, this took place at my current age. Never has there been so much detail and clarity, never had it felt so real.