Superwholock- Broken Wings

Chapter Thirty Five- Missing Heroes

"There has to be some way to get them back."

"We don't even know where we're getting them back from."

"Then we'll find out."

"How?"

"We'll ask people."

"Who?"

"People." Dean banged his hand down on the table. "I'll ask every damn person out there if I have to; I'm not just gonna sit here and do nothing. Not like some people."

"And what's that meant to mean, exactly?"

"Well, with all your questions, you ain't doing much about it, are you?"

"You listen here you American bastard! I will not be ordered around like some kind of-"

"That is enough!" Jay yelled. She had finally given up, sick to the teeth of John and Dean's arguing. They'd been at each other's throats since Jay, Jack, Crowley and... Henry... had returned. John had been sat at the table with a cup of tea, Sam was in bed- weak, but stable- while Dean had been standing by a chair, chugging down a bottle of beer. Rory was in bed as well, Amy and the Doctor sat at the table opposite John, the former white faced and teary at her husband's ailment.

They'd all reacted differently to the recount of what had occurred at the warehouse. John had turned a sickly white when he learned of Sherlock's disappearance, and had closed his eyes in a pained acceptance; he was used to Sherlock disappearing, though it hurt nonetheless. Dean had shouted a curse and thrown his beer bottle at the wall, shattering it, then proceeded to pace, mutter under his breath and run his hands through his hair all at the same time. Amy had started sobbing again. The Doctor had just sat there with a sad resignation painted across his features.

It had pained Jay too much to recount Henry's brave heroics, so Crowley had taken over. He spoke in detail, but without any emotion, and that had infuriated Jay so much she'd had to leave the room.

She'd wandered aimlessly down the corridor until she was out of earshot to release her tight control over her emotions. She'd screamed, taking her anger out on the wall until she was spent, then collapsed into a sitting position and cried so hard she thought she'd run dry. That was where Sam had found her, woken by the grief stricken scream and the thudding of her fists.

"Jay?"

"Sam! You're okay!" She leapt to her feet and threw her arms round him, eliciting a suppressed wince from the taller man. She stepped back immediately.

"I'm so sorry! I forgot! I just... when Sherlock said that bitch had shot you, I just.. I couldn't... I can't lose someone else I care about."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, frowning. Jay sobbed.

"It's Henry. He... Joanna, she... I..." She shook her head, unable to form a coherent sentence. Sam pulled her into another hug.

"I am so, so sorry, Jay," he murmured into her hair. She clung to him, wetting his grey top with her tears. She pulled back again.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I dunno." She laughed, then looked up at him with serious eyes. "Sam, I can't... I can't do this, right now, whatever this is. I'm just... I'm messed up, in... in the head. By Henry, by Joanna, just by everything that's been going on; my whole world just collapsed around me. I need time to figure my shit out. After that, if you'll have me, maybe we can try again, start fresh. Go for that dinner. But not now. Not yet." Sam nodded in understanding.