The Impossible Hunter

Chapter Thirteen

((Authors Warning: Insomnia and Slight Addiction Mention))

Days passed, and little progress was made on the Doctor.

The Sontaran lead was a bust, the file on them resided in the London branch, which was abandoned years ago. The other discarded witness accounts were unattainable as well. Shockingly, Men of Letters didn't have any files about disappearing phone booths either.

Only after he had been grilled several different times about the exact dialogue and every detail of the Doctor, did Cas finally return to heaven. Everyone was disappointed, but they couldn't blame him for leaving. All their leads came to dead ends and now there wasn't much left to research.

Days turned into a week, then two. For fourteen days, Oswin got little to no sleep each night. Sam and Dean no longer sprinted into the room to see if she was in danger whenever she cried out. Occasionally one brother would walk in to see if she wanted anything, but by the fifteenth night that had stopped too. Oswin had become a resident of the bunker and knew where everything was at that point.

Night terrors came to her every time she slept, so she tried not to sleep. Oswin grew used to the insomnia the best she could. Bright lights and loud noises hurt, but she tried to ignore it. Her energy faded by the day, sapped by the effort it took to move and the strain it took to fall asleep. Oswin powered through. Every time she blinked, she wanted nothing more than to keep them shut forever. But she couldn't.

For sleepless nights with nothing to do, Oswin turned to Netflix, Hulu, and any other shady websites that got her instant movies. Marvel movies were great - witty and action-packed. She had gotten into anime since Netflix recommended Attack on Titan to her. Dean loved to discuss it with her, and there seemed to be an endless supply of the art form pouring out of Japan, so she'd never run out. Reading the subtitles also helped her stay awake.

The worst part of it all, however, was Oswin's irritability. She was no longer witty, charming, or sweet. She tried her best to hold on to her personality, but now it seemed everything anyone did annoyed her. It was a living hell; she looked like a zombie, and felt like death.

One day she sat down to breakfast at six in the morning following another sleepless night. Dean turned on the stove and put a frying pan over the burner, adding butter and waiting for it to heat up.

"How do you want 'em today?" Dean asked, referring to the eggs he pulled out of the fridge.

"Shh!" Oswin hissed at him, "You're so loud!"

Dean rolled his eyes, he'd been speaking pretty quietly as Sam was still asleep.

"You hungover or something?" He whispered.

"You know I can't drink or I'll pass out, asshat! Don't bring it up!" Oswin snapped at him.

"Sorry I tried to make a joke!" He snapped, his voice still in a whisper, "Do you want this shit scrambled or what?" He asked pointedly, nodding at the egg carton.

Oswin didn't answer, her eyes drooped and the feeling of having them closed for even a second felt so good. It was a great relief, but it made opening them much harder.

"Morning," Sam said at average volume as he entered the room. A startled Oswin snapped her eyes open.

"Shut up!" She spat as she bumped the table and a glass shattered on the wood floor. It made a terrible noise and Oswin flinched and recoiled from the throbbing it caused in her head.

"Oswin, please. Go lie down and take a nap," Sam said gently.

"But the nightmares..." She argued.