Faded ( Jack Kline )

11

 (A/N: Wow! This is the longest part yet! 12,184 words. I felt like it was time for a longer one, thank you all so much for the support!)

I gasped waking myself up from the deep sleep I had been in. Even though it'd been two weeks since we'd come, it still surprised me when I woke up in Jack and I's little tent. The dreams running through my head constantly made it hard to appreciate the little home we'd made out of the space.

Jack was awake and out already, probably working with the guys on another rescue mission. I knew he would probably pop his head in if he didn't see me out in another hour because that's when he'd normally come to lay with me until I woke up, but of course, I was woken again by the same dream.

Dean would show up in this world, coming to save Jack and me, but then just before I could run into his arms, Michael would punch a hole in his chest, ripping out his heart. It was graphic and hard to watch every time.

Jack had been trying to force the dream out of me all week, but I always just shrugged, telling him I didn't remember. He never bought it but probably thought it was better not to press my buttons.

I didn't want Jack to know that Michael was haunting my dreams, that would just give him another reason to want him dead, and another reason to risk his life for the mission.

I ran my hands through my hair. I missed showers, so much. We didn't have them when it's so cold, but during the spring and summer they had something set up, so I've been told.

I braided my hair, hoping it would make me look cleaner, before sliding on my shoes and exiting the tent, my coat tight around me. A few people were wandering about, mostly carrying baskets of food or clothing. More than likely making trades with others in the camp. People would stick up signs in the mess hall, little slips of paper putting up what they needed and what they'd like to trade it for.

The injured around the camp had decreased significantly since Jack had arrived. Some people still refused, not believing that an angel could do them any good, but many took him up on his offers. Jack had begun to improve life for everyone around the camp.

A few people waved at me, and some of the children running around shouted their morning greeting as they continued to race down the paths, I could hardly catch who they were. I had met most of the kids in the camp, and they liked to stop by Jack and I's tent before bed. I would tell them a story, as Jack would make shadows to illustrate it.

Life was clicking into a routine here, which is something I didn't like one bit but decided I had to live with. Jack wasn't going to open us a door. If we risked that for one second our world would be changed forever, and that wasn't something I wanted to be the cause of, and I know Jack wouldn't forgive himself if he was either.

I turned around the bend in the path, entering one of the large white buildings. The one across the road was the mess hall, where we had group meetings or the camp provided meals. It was one of the places that had power here. They used solar panels to get minimal power. It wasn't enough to do much, just to have one or two things plugged in, but it was something.

The building I was entering was what people around town called 'the white house' which is pretty much exactly what it was. The Victorian-style home was like the town hall. All of the matching ones that probably used to line the street had toppled. Some pieces of them were featured in some of the constructed shacks that lined the paths of our camp. The White House was home to the weapons, Bobby's 'office', and all of the vehicles in the camp. They'd even slapped together a makeshift garage out of some sheet metal and wood.

The main room of the house was just a large table with maps on it. Markings of other survival groups we knew of. Bobby was leaning over the map when I walked in, Jack across from him. A few of the other men and women leaned back in their chairs, arms crossed, listening as Bobby and Jack developed some kind of plan.