The Winchester Sister (COMPLETED)

Chapter Thirty Six

Asaya's POV

My brother is a demon.

A demon. Dean.

How long have I been absent?

What else have I missed?

My biggest question is how? How did Dean get himself turned into a demon? God, Dean, this is why you need me and Sam and Bobby and Cas. If you don't have us you do idiotic things like turning into a demon!

Maybe I should tell him.

No, I shouldn't. He thinks I'm dead, and it's probably best if things stay that way. And if he finds out who I am after all that he's done to me... Dean is already depressed. I don't want him to off himself.

I have to get out of here.

Wait.

Does Sam know about Dean's condition? I mean, he must be a demon too if Dean's near him. Dean wouldn't risk our little brother unless it was very serious.

I move my arms around, trying to get my hands in a good position. I get to work on the knot, loosening it enough I can wriggle my hands out. I until my feet and try to find my way out of this place.

I don't even know where I am. I could be in any state, any city, but I think I'm still in Missoula. The drive in Dean's car took exactly nineteen minutes and seven seconds, and I know the turns he took. So unless he has a car faster then the speed of light, I'm still in Missoula.

I pick my way out of the building, blinking a few times when I get into the bright sunlight.

I go back the way we came. I follow each turn he made, but backwards, and I find myself at the edge of the forest where the baykok was.

Evan. He's smart enough to get out of the house and not contact me, but I know where he'll be. Ninth motel in the phone book. Now I just have to find it.

As I expected, Dean took my phone, my wallet, my weapons, everything. But I can hitchhike.

I go to the road and wait for a car to pass. When one comes near, I stick my thumb out like people in the movies. It ignores me.

It takes me two more tries before I get picked up. Thankfully, the person has a phone book, in which I find the motel and point it out to her. She takes me there.

I thank her when we get there, and go up to the door. I knock seven times, with four second breaks in between each knock.

Evan opens the door and grabs onto me.

"Where were you?" he says, his words muffled by my shirt, which his face is pressed into.

I smile sadly at him. "I can't tell you." If I told, he'd storm right in there and kill my brother. I want to see if I can help him first, maybe turn him back human or help him learn to control himself, despite being a demon. I don't know. I just don't know what I can do for him. I'll come up with something. But my brother stays alive.

"Why?" he says, angrily. "Tell me, I need to know. I need to know where you are."

"Evan, stop. You don't need to be overprotective of me, I can take care of myself. You have to trust me, okay? I have more experience. I'm not saying you're not good, you are, and I need you, but I can take care of myself. And my brother?" I sigh. "He doesn't know what he's doing. He's possessed. I might be able to help him. But I don't need you to run in there and kill him. Okay?"

He nods. "Okay."

"Good," I say. "I don't know how long I have here before I have to go back. If Dean finds me missing, he'll track me. He'll find you." I take a breath. This is the part he won't like. "Evan, you have to leave. Go to South Dakota. Here, I'll write down the address. It's an empty car lot. Underground, there's a bunker. It's safe, warded from everything in the books listed from 'a' to 'z'. The password to get in is Babylonian. It has supplies, everything you need to stay alive. Go there. Stay. I'll come when I can. Don't, and I mean don't, look for me. I love you, Ev. Stay safe."

I pull the boy into a hug. It lasts for a second or two, before finally, I turn around and start to run. I run until I get back to the place Dean was holding me. I already slipped a piece of paper to Evan with the address of the bunker on it.

I sit back down in the chair I was in before. I retie the knots as he tied them. And I wait for him to come back. Eventually, though it's uncomfortable, I fall asleep like that, sitting up in the hard wooden chair.

When he comes in hours later, he comes in with a bang. The door slams open, making me jump awake. He looks frustrated about something, rubbing his head with his hands.

"Dean?" I ask. "Is everything okay?"

"Why would you care?" He snaps. "You don't even know me."

"Oh Dean, I know you better then anyone. Darling, I wish you knew who I was. Who I am now. Brother, I wish we could talk the way we used to. I wish none of this had happened, our mother dying, John forcing me away from you, him forcing you to be hunters. I never wanted this for you. I knew. I wish I could have told you, but I knew what it was that Mom used to do, who John's father was. I knew Mom never wanted this for us, and I knew Dad always wanted me, at least, to become a Woman of Letters. You know so much, and yet so little." That's what I want to say. But there are too many monologues in this story. So instead I say "I know. But it's in my nature to be concerned about people."

He lets out a laugh. I've never seen him laugh like that. His laugh is... cold. Cruel. Not at all my brother's laugh, rare but beautiful. No. Not the time to get sentimental. Have to stay focused. Come on. Come on.

"People? People are weak," he says. "Flawed. They can be killed by something as small as a bug, and more things that are even smaller. Humans are pathetic. You should not be concerned for them. I can sense something in you, a...potential if you will."

I spit at him. "Potential? Do you even know what that means?" From the look on his face, I've lost him. "Potential means you've done nothing. Not yet. But others believe in you. And they think that is enough. But potential means you've done nothing."

My words don't reach him. He just stares at me blankly. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I'm just babbling to myself really. But I want to see if anything I say can reach him. The real Dean. Not this... monster. I don't know this thing standing in front of me.

I want to say it out loud, to see if he hears me. If my words sting.

But I know I can't. If I did, it'd be giving away my identity. And he can't know. My brother would kill himself, maybe worse, if he knew what he's done, what he's said, to his sister.

I know I sound like I'm over estimating my importance, but it's not that. I'm not important. It's important that he thinks his job is to protect me and he thinks he failed.

"I want to know what that potential is," he says, ignoring everything I just said. "I want to know how I can harness it."

"Cristo!" I shout at him, just to make him flinch.

He doesn't move.