Broken Blood

Trying To Protect You

Dean stands and suddenly I know this stupid game is over, whatever truth these two had come here with, whatever answer I’d been wondering about while they poured lines of salt at my doorstep, was about to come to light. He snatches the bottle from my hand in anger, the sudden movement causing me to jump slightly “well, embrace the insane because you are officially off the crazy pills!” he orders as he piles the bottles back into the bowl, “I really can’t just STOP taking them! Maybe you forgot but I really am crazy without them!” I protest “yea, about as crazy as me” he says while setting the bowl back in the cabinet “actually, you’re probably LESS crazy than me”, I raise an eyebrow “what?”. He looks at me, a look of something like regret slips into his eyes as he watches me, I raise both eyebrows now, urging him to continue his speech.

He talks a breath and shifts his wait, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Sam then dragging it back to me “those…nightmares you used to have…well…theywereaboutrealstuff” his words crept out at first, but he got sick of the awkward pausing and pushed the rest of the statement out in one chunk to get it over with. I take a moment to de-code what he said, but shake my head at it, “no” I assure him, “they were nightmares, all made up Dean, you and Sam would say that all the time” he sighs and looks back at Sam “any help?” he asks, Sam sits up straight, takes a breath, and speaks to me “when you were little…we didn’t want you, to feel…like you were in danger, so…we let you think it was all fake...we were just trying to protect you”.

As they speak, breathing is gradually becoming more difficult as dark memories bleed into my mind, the thought is inconceivable. All those nightmares, the hallucinations about ghosts and demons…about those yellow eyes…had been… “you‘re crazy” I say, I shake my head as fear begins to bloom inside me as those yellow eyes burn, the feeling of the acid in my mouth springs back and I realize in horror that I can taste it. “Yeah, it’s been said” Dean says coolly, but sighs when he looks at me, “look it’s gonna be okay” *that’s easy for him to say* I think as my head swims with memories, enough fear is bred in me to make me dizzy *since I was six all I’ve been told is that my nightmares were just made up and that they couldn’t get me, things to let me know that I was safe from it all…and….. he doesn’t know what I dreamt about*. The pictures are all I see in my mind, I turn my eyes to the sink not wanting to see the things that came to me, *was my dream last night real?* I wonder in horror.

I think back to all the nights spent crying in fear, all the things they’d done to me, yellow, black, or red eyes burning into mine, all the things they’d said to me, everything they’d showed me, I think and can hardly breath. A feeling of terrible panic raises in me and I want to reach for my morning pills when I realize it’s too early *12:43 am* so I duck my head into the sink and try to breath.

“Hey, hey” Dean says as his hand reaches my shoulder, “you don’t know what I dreamt about!” I yell with a spare breath, the sound reverberates in the sink around my head, I squeeze my eyes shut and see them, I open my eyes and in the dark hole in the sink I see them. I quickly stand *it has to be time for my medicine* I think desperately and move to reach for the cabinet but Dean catches my hand “get a grip okay? Yeah it was real but it WON’T get you!” I pull my hand from his “and how can you promise me that?” I ask “because, whatever you’ve seen, we’ve killed…it’s what we do and it’s what Dad did” Sam explains.

I freeze, my mind is rushed with so many questions that everything shuts down and all I can do is close my eyes. I try to blink away the confusion and I hate the feeling coming over me, the weakness, the fear, I think about what they’re saying and I just want to vomit. *Dad killed…demons?…why didn’t he kill mine? Did he?…he cared, right?*, all those years spent almost dieing in nightmares I thought were just nightmares, come to find out those demons were real. All the times they had their hands around my neck, or around my ankle as they dragged me, or over my mouth as they…a sharp breath catches in my throat and I know I’m going to be sick. I turn and run to the bathroom, barely making it to the bowl before the disgusting bail spews from me in heavy waves.

Again, I am angry at them for leaving. Knowing the demons really were after me, knowing they could SAVE me, they still left me and never looked back…did they care if I died? I was so scared back then, some days the only thing keeping me from jumping off the roof was the thought that none of it was real. There weren’t actually demons dragging me into the closet every other night or chasing me down the halls of the hospital. There weren’t ghosts scratching at the windows, peering in at me with red eyes, no demons cursing and spitting, telling me they would damn the Winchester family…there wasn’t a man with yellow eyes forcing his acidic blood into my mouth week after week…I was six and I needed to believe it wasn’t real, now I know it was.

I wonder about the yellow-eyed demon, he’d fed me his blood so often it felt like my weekly dose of cough medicine. He came every week until I was 15 and Bobby took me in, I started taking my medicine and everything went away. I spit the remaining from my mouth and flush twice…then brush my teeth. Staring into the mirror I realize with alarm that my eyes are red.

I jump away from the mirror with a start, *it's happening* I think in despair *just like he said it would...* I calm myself slowly, flicking off the light and exiting the bathroom, I close the door behind me and lean on it. "Quinn?" Sam stands a few feet away from me, I don't want to look at him, don't want to show him my eyes...but he's walking towards me...and I have to look up SOMETIME...so I do...but he doesn't look surprised. "You okay?" he wonders, I stare back at him in silence before managing a slow nod, I turn and flick on the bathroom light, peering into the mirror I find that  my eyes are normal again...dark chocolate brown, and normal.

*Sam's POV*

I watch her stare into the mirror, watching her own eyes. I know she must be wondering why we would leave her knowing her demons were real...truth is, we didn't, not untill yesterday that is. Back then we thought all the nightmares were about the possession, it only seemed logical that a little girl who'd been possessed and forced to kill would have nightmares about it. I sigh, take one final glance at her, and make my way back to the kitchen with Dean "she doesn't remember" I say in a hushed tone as I turn the corner. "Good" he says with a heavy sigh, I can tell he's having a hard time with this, somehow Dean had hoped he would be able to come here and be with Quinn the way we had when she was a kid, he'd wanted to have his baby sister back.

  "Dean, she's-" "I KNOW" he says with aggitation, "she'll be FINE she just needs...." his voice trails off and falls quiet. Truth is we don't quite know what she needs, who in the world would?