Don't Forget About Me

32

  We drive to the tattoo parlour mostly in silence, other than Sam's spontaneous attempts to make conversation. I can tell that he isn't a huge fan of silence, whilst trapped in a car, anyways. Dean looks kind of pissed, probably because I'm literally about to get a tattoo. Wow. A real tattoo. I'd always wanted one, but was scared to do it. Sketched them out in journals and saved them to online boards since I was eight. It's interesting to me that everyone raves about how tattoos have to be all meaningful and significant. This one will be, but in a different way, with an actual purpose. Maybe. Sam couldn't find any lore on whether or not angels could get possessed in any way, but we sure as hell didn't want to take any chances. As for Dean, well, he wasn't a huge fan of research as I had come to realize. "So, why did you guys just think of this now? The tattoo, I mean," I questioned, interrupting a shallow conversation they were having about a couple Vetala they took down once upon a time. Apparently one had lured an unknowing Dean away, while the other one tried to get Sam. Dean's move almost got them both killed, but in his defense 'she was hot.' "I mean, you've never brought it up before, even when I was human. Why now?"

  They exchange one of their famous should we tell her or should we avoid the truth to keep her safe looks, and I know I was right, there is definitely more to the story. Sam widens his eyes and tilts his head, she deserves to know. Damn straight I do. Dean shakes his head, fine, but this is your idea and if she gets hurt it's on you. Wait, what? I silence my inner dialogue, always taking me to a darker place than expected. Dean looks at me in the rear-view mirror. "Well, we, um. Sammy?" I glance over at Sam. If even Dean can't spit it out, this must be bad. Sam looks annoyed with his brother, for pushing him under the bus. "Well..?" I demand, getting impatient. Sam turns to face me, eyes darting before landing on my own. "So, don't be mad," great start, Sammy. "Actually, that's a dick thing to say. We were keeping this from you for your own protection, but you deserved to know a lot sooner than this." Great, they've been going behind my back for a while. Wonderful. "The demon, that killed your mom. It's after you." That's it? I already knew that, we all did. Uncle Bobby had been doing research for months. I wait for him to continue anyways. Sam notices this, and proceeds "It's actually not one. It's a group, like a colony." My hands start to shake, but I let him continue. "We caught up with it, I mean, them, on a recent hunt." "Wait," I interrupt, "I don't understand. You're Sam and Dean Winchester. You can handle a couple demons." I'm not sure if I say this to them or to myself. "Right, that's what we thought," Sam agrees, "but then, we realized this was bigger than we thought. So, it was possessing a man, but it kept spacing out and another voice would come into light." This keeps getting better. "And when we asked for it's name, it said, 'My name is Legion, for we are many.'"

  This time, I have no words. "So, Sammy being Sammy, he did research," Dean interjects, clearly trying to lighten the mood. It doesn't work. "And we found what we're dealing with. In Christian lore, there were a group of demons that were essentially one, in spirit anyways. It's name? Legion." I'm still sitting dumbfounded. I realize we've stopped at a strip mall with a neon sign reading "Tattoos" out front. I clear my throat, evidently on the verge of tears. "S-so you killed it, it right?" I know the answer, but I need to hear it out loud. Sam and Dean look at each other again, this time with pure regret plastered on their faces. "No. It got away," Dean finally states. "You let that thing  get away? How! Why didn't you kill it! You have the famous demon-killing-knife, why didn't you use the damn thing!"

  I collapse against Baby's reassuring leather seat, a comforting embrace, pinching the bridge of my nose. I didn't realize how upset I am. "That's the thing," Sam adds. "We did use it. It didn't work." I can't hold off the tears anymore, and they pour down my face in a seemingly unnecessarily large stream. Dean doesn't hesitate before climbing into the back seat with me, taking me in his arms as I breathe the familiar scent of leather and eventually calm down. "I won't let anything happen to you. You're my- our -family. You matter so much to me, Cat." His voice cracks as he says it and I know it's sincere. We part from our embrace and I pull out a compact mirror from my bag, examining the damage. My mascara falls in wet lines down my cheeks, and my concealer has been swept away by the tears to reveal several acne scars scattered across my face. In other words, "I look like crap." I snap the compact shut. Dean chuckles. "You look badass." I smile at him, and at Sam, and I take a sharp intake of breath before opening my car door. Suddenly, getting a tattoo doesn't seem so scary.