Hello, my little Becca Backers!
Look I got another one up in about a month! What a treat, right? I hope you think it's a treat. I'm sorry it wasn't up sooner. Don't get used to this though, oh man I don't want to promise you anything in updates, but I am going to try and get the following chapters up sooner rather than later.
Can you believe it's been 56 chapters on this bad boy? And we are at the Season One finale!? Did you hear Kansas? Because I'm about to go hear them again at Summerfest. Yeah, buddy. Just kidding. I saw them last year, so I might not go this year. Okay, I'm rambling, I'm so sorry.
Time for the shout outs!
Thank you so much to those of you who have continued to stick with this story. I know it's been a hard time with how long I take, but I appreciate and admire you all.
Extra thanks and welcome to all of you who have recently jumped on the Becca Bandwagon! Welcome to my ramblings and craziness. I promise the story is decent.
A special shout out to my lovely ladies (you better know who you are at this point ahem) for helping me out when I was stuck and needing a hand. You're the bees knees. If bees even have knees. Otherwise you're the cat's pajamas. You know which cat. I don't but you do.
An extra shout out to Mishel-10 who is just one of the nicest little lovelies around. Really you guys. Be sure to check out her story Cherry Pie which you can find in my FAVORITES on my PROFILE. Can't find her story? Then be sure to check out my FOLLOWS because I'm sure you'll find it there.
And of course my regular plugs for Not Our Emily found on sweetkiwi604's page (ahem, I helped cowrite so please go shed a tear); Sisterhood of the Traveling Hunters also found on sweetkiwi604's page (Becca and friends. Go see how Becca interacts in a group of girls her own age who just can't seem to keep from getting into trouble); and finally Baby Becca found on MY page (a series of one shots showing Becca interacting with her brothers throughout her life up until [and maybe beyond] the series!)
I think that's everything. Sorry. I'll go punish myself at the gym now.
READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)
They'd taken us. Somewhere, I don't know. I'd been knocked around some more before I woke up with a totally cliché blindfold over my eyes. I didn't want them to know that I was awake so I did my best to hide it as I felt my body lean left before we were moving straight again for seven seconds.
I counted out what seemed like forever before we turned more and found a freaking roundabout that of course threw me off for minute and then I lost count in the sixties somewhere and I was internally yelling at myself and then I was just lost. All that training lost on me as I fumbled around to find a way to redirect people if possible, and I was just screwing up major hard core.
By the time we stopped I forgot to hold myself and face planted into the back of a seat, only to have comments thrown at me. Then we were moving and there were so many voices and the warm sun beat on my neck. My arms were being twisted under a controlled strength and I was then having something shoved over my ears and nose—sunglasses or glasses at least. Sunglasses I assume strictly for the fact that no one would see the blindfold so much then.
I didn't know if my father was still near me or not until we were shoved into an elevator and moving up a few floors, then shoved down a hallway or two, and then entered a stuffy room.
"Take him to the bedroom," I heard Meg's voice instruct.
There was no response and that worried me for a second before I was lurched forward and then entered a room with a horrible smell. Please tell me I did not just enter a dumpster or trash room. I heard a door open before I was then shoved inside the smallest space possible and then I heard the door lock shut behind me after it closed. Great. Now I'm in a closet.
Grumbling I did my best to try and get both the restraints on my wrists removed and the blindfold, only for nothing. It wasn't long after I began to hear the grunts and curses from my dad as they began doing whatever they were doing to him. The heavy thumps and thuds churned my stomach and eventually his responses stopped all together and I felt my heartbeat quickly in fear.
It was some time later that a phone began ringing and I heard Meg muttering outside of the door I was locked behind. I don't know what she discussed but it was soon after that I was then being forced out from my closet by the hair.
"Where is it?" she hissed in my ear as my toes did their best to support me in the air.
"Where is what?" I grit between my teeth.
My body went flying against a wall and I lost my breath as my arms crushed behind my back. "The gun you little stain."
The blindfold was ripped from my eyes and I felt her nails scratch against my cheek. "I don't know where any gun is, because I don't know where I am," I spit back at her. "Why don't you trade me that information and give me my one call."
Instantaneous pain filled my head. Sharp stabbing pain at my temples spreading through my brain like a squeezing blaze to my eyes. "I don't have the time or desire for you Winchesters or your games. You're going to take me to your brothers, or you are going to watch your father take his last breath with yours soon following."
My eyes narrowed at her threat as she smirked and showed me those hideous white teeth.
My eyes went round as Meg kicked open the door in front of her. I mean, sure, I'd seen Dean and my dad kick in some doors in my days, but holy guacamole this trick just straight owned this wood. Pushing me ahead of her, she sauntered into the house and glared at my brothers. "No more crap, okay?" she hissed.
I didn't miss the surprised looks on not only my brothers' faces, but also Bobby. Bobby Singer. A man I hadn't seen in what had to be forever. He was an old—and I mean old—friend of my dad's. So old, not like elderly, hang on. I don't mean that Bobby is old like an old wrinkly man. He's just a long time friend. Whew. I'm glad we got that figured out. But anyway, I think that the last time I even saw Bobby, he was threatening to shoot my dad with a shotgun. He didn't look much different though. I think he even had the same outfit on to be honest.
"Good to see you, Bobby," I tried to lighten the mood, bring Meg's attention from whatever was going on here. There had to be a reason they called her. I couldn't see them just inviting her over for tea. Mainly because they didn't really drink tea. We're more of a coffee family. "Tell me, old man, do you even own a second shirt?"
"I can't say I missed your mouth, kid," he spit back with a sneer that I still knew to not take too personally. What can I say? My girlish charm always wins the man over.
Dean moved to close the distance between us and himself, and I saw him unscrewing the flask. With a move of her hand, Meg had him flying to the side while whatever she did to me had me on my knees screaming as what felt like a thousand nails were piercing the base of my skull. My insides felt like they were on fire and all I could do was scream and groan in pain.
My eyes were watering as the pain subsided and I was panting, seeing Sam had placed himself between us and Bobby. Beyond Bobby I couldn't see Dean moving, and deep down I feared that she had hurt him like they had my dad.
"I want the Colt, Sam—the real Colt—right now," Meg bit, trying to force her intimidation on my twin.
Sam and Bobby began to move backwards and Meg followed, yanking me up with her as she moved past where I was kneeling. She followed them slowly. "We don't have it on us," Sam told her. "We buried it."
"Didn't I say, "no more crap"? I swear—after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I got to tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed. First you sister tries to pretend like she's some sort of secret backup to your father during our meeting. Then Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads. Lackluster, family. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you?"
"Actually," I heard from behind me. I spun so quickly I took Meg with me, forcing her to face a now standing Dean. "We were counting on it." I followed his eyes up towards the ceiling and a shocked scoff left my mouth when I saw a huge red circular symbol drawn above us. "Gotchya," he smugly stated before she clenched her fist in my hair and I was once again on my knees and in a different type of pain. Different as in her nails were digging into my scalp while her hand was in the process of pulling off my scalp versus it being internal this time. Either way, this bitch needs to go down because I'm sick of her hurting me.
"Thanks, Bobby," I spoke as he handed me the things to clean my wrists that were torn from the rope. "I'm surprised you're helping us, old man. Last I remembered Winchesters weren't exactly your favorite brand."
Handing me another container of ointment, he grumbled. "You keep callin' me old and I'll show you how old I am."
"Don't hurt yourself. I wouldn't want breaking any hips there, gramps."
I could have sworn there was almost a smirk on his lips as his head and ball cap twitched. He handed me a few bandages and watched as I tried to make sure I'd fully cleaned the areas. He may be a little blue collar and dirty, but the man's not gonna be one to hold back if I give myself an infection. "And to think I almost missed you all these years."
"Aww, did you cry yourself to sleep?" I teased as he swiped the giant salt container from the table.
Bobby shot me a look before turning to head back into the living room, and I stood up following him, still tending to my raw wrists. It had taken a little bit of a lot of force, but my lovely brothers managed to wrangle me out of Meg's grasp and lead me away. I had been forced into a kitchen chair and hounded about where Dad was. What they couldn't seem to grasp was that I didn't know. I had been bound, gagged, blindfolded. I didn't know where we were outside of it was dark and then a little bit of sunny. There had been so many turns and twists I couldn't even recall how many times I leaned left versus leaned right on the ride. I only knew we were at Bobby's due to the bag pulled off my head when we got here.
Sam finally managed to get Dean out of my face and to understand that I was doing the best I could. I know that Dean just wanted answers, and I really wish I could have given them to him, but Cheesus Crust, I couldn't. I would have. If he honestly thinks that I would just withhold that crap he's insane. I would never do that. So now here we were. Meg was tied to a chair in the center of that—what I had learned was a devil's trap—symbol, and she looked pissed. Even more pissed than I'd seen her in the last twenty-four hours and that's pretty pissed if you ask me. You had to have seen her face to know I guess.
Now they were watching her, trying to guess her motive. Or at least I assume that's what they were doing. I'd told them what happened to me. How I was used as leverage only proving Dad's point of me being a liability. And oh yeah, there were words and arguments about that. It was like I'd run away from Dad to find a mini-Dad just ready to yell all the same words at my face. I didn't like it. Sam understood…ish. He was upset, too. Even if he was pretending he wasn't, he was. I could tell. His eyes were a deeper shade of that hazel whatever color they decided to be at the moment, and his mouth was in a tight grimace.
I felt bad that I couldn't give them more information. Really I did, but what did they expect. I mean, did they think that Meg would be taking me on a tour like, "Oh this is where our hideout is, and this is the room we beat your father in"? Because that's what they made it seem like. Now I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I'm definitely not the dullest either. I know things to do and whatever, but it was harder than they're making it seem.
Bobby had gone beyond where my brothers were with his container of salt, and was now finally making his way back behind me. "I salted the door and windows. If there are any demons out there—they ain't getting in."
"We came alone. The others were there watching Dad," I informed him.
Dean nodded to the both of us and then stood before working his way around all of us to stand in front of where they had Meg tied. "Where's our father, Meg?"
"You didn't ask very nice," she answered in a mock tone.
"Where's our father, bitch," Dean tried once more.
"Dean—" I tried to calm him down, except he wasn't having it. He was getting angrier by the second with each run around she gave him for where Dad was. I could see it in his face as it hardened and his jaw continued to tighten. His eyes were growing colder and hate was quickly filling up all the usually lightened space. And Meg's mouth wasn't helping anything either. All her comments were just making it worse with each syllable she spewed.
"Jeez. You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait, I forgot, you don't."
Dean lunged at her and I flinched as he grabbed the arms of the chair and started yelling, "You think this is a frigging game? Where is he?! What did you do to him?"
Meg didn't flinch like I did. She just glared back and snarled, "He died screaming. I killed him myself."
"She's lying," I croaked. I might not have known where they had taken us or anything like that, but I knew Dad was alive. He was like me at this point. A liability. They needed him alive and as a bargaining chip to make sure they could get the real gun. The only reason I'd even been brought along was that she thought she could use me first—that she wouldn't have to use Dad, that she could eventually kill him. Except she hadn't thought about being captured and rendered powerless like she was. They'd gotten her good.
Dean snapped then and hit Meg in the face, making me gasp. I couldn't believe it. I'd never seen him hit a girl. Not like that. "That's kind of a turn on," Meg teased, turning her head back to face him straight on, "you hitting a girl."
"You're no girl," Dean growled.
"Bobby," I whispered, facing the man. Except he was already on the move and in the next room, calling for Dean to follow him. All three of us moved into the room beside him where he lowered his voice.
Sam stopped Dean, throwing a hand on his arm and looking down at him. "You okay?" he questioned trying to read our brother's eyes.
"You heard Bec. She's lying. He's not dead," Dean answered him angrily.
"Dean," Bobby cut in, "you got to be careful with her. Don't hurt her."
"Why!?" I cried. "Do you even know what she did to me? What she had done to Dad? She deserves all the pain she's getting—and more, Bobby. You can't be serious."
Bobby gave me a short-tempered glare. "Except she really is a girl, kid. That's why."
"What are you talking about," Sam asked.
Bobby turned to face him. "She's possessed. That's a human possessed by a demon. Can't you tell?"
Can't we tell? Are you kidding me? After everything this blonde bitch has done to us and put us through, he wants us to just look past the fact that she's not pure evil? My head began to pull at all the strings it could grab. So now Meg was both evil and innocent? She was a human with a demon inside her. So how did we get the demon out of her? Couldn't we kill the demon then?
"Are you trying to tell me there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there?" Dean pried. Bobby nodded, looking past us to Meg. "That's actually good news."
"We need to get the demon out of her. Like on that plane, remember? Sam," I quickly turned to look my twin in the eyes. "You found that exorcism that allowed the demon to leave the body."
"Yeah, but it was able to harness more power. Do we really want to let it have that kind of advantage?"
"No," Dean immediately answered.
I rounded on him. "We don't know where Dad is—"
"Because you didn't pay attention—"
"Say that one more time, Dean, I dare you."
Bobby and Sam both stepped in at that point. "Knock it off you two. Your yappin' ain't goin' to help us figure out how to save that girl in there."
Sam pushed me back a little and looked between us. "He's right. We need to figure out how to get answers out of whoever that demon is possessing. It's the only way we've got to try and save Dad."
They'd decided on strictly just exorcising the demon from the girl's body. So while Sam searched for the best one, I stood in the room watching Meg while Dean did whatever he wanted I suppose. She hadn't said much to me, instead just keeping her eyes trained on me, making me feel kind of uncomfortable. When Sam and Dean answered she still didn't look away at first, asking, "Are you gonna read me a story?"
"Something like that," Dean answered. "Hit it, Sam."
Sam began the exorcism, reciting the, "Regna terrae, cantate deo, psallite dominio," and other words that followed while Meg turned to Dean. "An exorcism? Are you serious?"
"Oh, we're going for it, baby—head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards."
"I'm going to kill you," Meg said staring at Dean. "I'm gonna rip the bones from your body." Her eyes moved to me. "Or maybe I'll kill your baby sister. Make you watch as I peel back her skin and—"
"No," Dean cut her off. "You're gonna burn in hell. Unless you tell us where our Dad is." Meg smiled at Dean as though he was seriously insane for thinking she would ever end up in hell. When she didn't answer him he tipped his head and sneered at her with a face I don't' think I'd ever actually seen him use. Well, okay, I may have, who knows. I've seen a lot of Dean's faces. But when he said, "Well, at least you'll get a nice tan," I felt myself swallow. He was beyond upset with her.
Sam continued the exorcism, causing Meg to shake. The pain was obvious on her face and I felt my insides cringing because of it. When she finally made an audible sound of pain, Sam stopped and looked at her.
"He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his children one last time. That's when I slit his throat."
"You're lying," I spit as Sam began the exorcism one more time.
"For her sake I hope she's lying," Dean told me as he slowly circled the arc of the trap they'd set her in. "'Cause if it's true, I swear to God I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of these evil sons of bitches, so help me God."
I didn't respond, instead watching as Sam continued on with the Latin words. Meg began to show signs of pain once more and I felt my stomach churning as Dean insisted she tell him where our father was. When she answered, "You just won't take "dead" for an answer, will you," my hope began to dwindle.
I remembered hearing him in agony. She wouldn't have needed to leave people behind to watch him if he were dead. She wouldn't have insisted on bringing me along and "doing this herself" if he was dead. She would have proved it to my brothers. She would have used his corpse as proof. I knew, deep down, he wasn't dead. None of the signs pointed to him having died. He couldn't be dead.
Dean was yelling now after his back and forth with her. His voice was angrier than I'd heard in years. "No, he's not! He's not dead! He can't be!" His face was red and he was shaking, making me shake in response. I was growing worried that he'd break at the tension and fear. I reached forward and pulled his arm.
"Dean, you need to relax—" I tried telling him. "You getting this worked up is just what she wants. You can't give in to her."
He ripped his arm from my grasp and just faced forward. Sam saw the action and stopped speaking, looking at Dean, concerned. "What are you looking at? Keep reading," Dean snapped.
Sam picked up without another look at Dean, continuing again where he'd left off.
"…Ab insidis diaboli, libera nos, domine. Ut ecclesiam tuam decura tibi facias, libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos." Meg's chair began to jolt around the circle. It slid to one side before hitting an invisible wall and jerking to the other side. I could see the pain on her face, and to be honest, I felt a little freaked out. We'd never done this before. At least, I didn't recognize the scary aspect of it before. "Ut inimicos sanctae ecclesiae humiliare digneris, to rogamus audi…"
"He will be!" Meg suddenly shouted over the sliding of the chair and Sam's voice.
"Wait!" I yelled out, running into Sam's side. "Sam, wait! What did you say?" I yelled to Meg, making sure to keep out the circle.
"He's not dead. But he will be after what we do to him."
"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Dean questioned, stepping forward and moving me back.
"You don't," she snapped back.
I pulled Dean's jacket back, forcing him to follow as he yelled out for Sam's name. "Dean! She's telling the truth. You have to believe her."
Meg didn't stop after my words. She yelled out, "A building! Okay? A building in Jefferson City."
"Missouri?" I gasped. "Where? Where? Give me an address."
"I don't know."
"And the demon—the one we're looking for—where is it?" Sam added, throwing me. They were still focused on this demon right now? Even with everything else? We were on the verge of losing our father and Sam's still trying to figure out where this stupid demon was. I was livid. My vision felt like it was darkening and all I could see was anger ahead of me. Pushing past Dean I stormed towards Sam.
"Are you serious?!" I screamed. "You're more focused on that damn demon right now instead of the fact that she just said that they are going to kill Dad?!"
"We need to know, Becca," Sam snapped back. "Where is it?" he turned to face Meg once more.
"I don't know! I swear! That's everything. That's all I know."
Dean cut me off, slapping his hand over my mouth and dragging me into his chest. "Finish it."
"What?" I gasped behind his hand at the same time Meg yelled. "I told you the truth."
"I don't care," he snapped back.
Meg's glare deepened and I almost thought her power was back. "You son of a bitch, you promised."
"I lied!" he yelled, bending us both forward to get in her face. "Sam?" There was no response from Sam as Dean instructed, and then we turned. "Sam! Read!" Pushing me into Bobby, Dean moved to Sam, trying to find out why Sam wasn't doing as he was told.
They whispered amongst themselves as I turned to Bobby. "We can't keep going, Bobby. We need her. She has to know more about what they're going to do to Dad. I mean, we shoved her out of an upper story building. She's not going to just let us get away with—hey!"
Bobby had walked away from me, going to my brothers. "You're gonna kill her."
Cheesus Crust I swear to God no one in this damn universe hears what I say. No. Let's just completely ignore anything I just said and go and tell Dean to kill the girl. I think I remember why my dad hadn't talked to Bobby and it's because he knew he was being dumb!
"What?" Dean asked.
"Your sister just said she fell from a building. That girl's body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it—that girl is going to die." Oh. My bad. Bobby does listen. I always liked that man.
"Listen to me, all of you, we are not gonna leave her like that."
"She is a human being," Bobby argued, cutting me off again.
Dean was snapping back. "And we're gonna put her out of her misery. Sam, finish it."
Sam looked between all three of us before looking over to Meg as if to ask her opinion. I bet I know what she'd say. "Finish it," Dean barked quickly. Sam caught my eye and then took a breath before continuing.
It was when he got to, "Ipse tribuite virtutem et fortitudinem plebe suae, benedictus dues, gloria patri," that Meg threw back her head and screamed. There was this huge black cloud that poured from her mouth and spread out in this circle on the ceiling and then it vanished. My eyes dropped to Meg and I saw blood starting to come from her mouth.
"Damn it, Dean," I scolded, quickly moving to go into the circle and help her. A hand shot out to stop me and I turned to see a cautious Dean. "What now?"
"We don't know that it's over."
"You saw the dark cloud of death leave her. It's over," I pushed past him. Crouching down I checked her face and heard her breathing as she slowly lifted her head to try and meet my eyes. "She's still alive. Call 911. Get some water and blankets."
Bobby rushed away as I began pulling at her ties. Dean and Sam both appeared, helping me and then Meg spoke so quietly I almost missed it. "Thank you."
That was all she said. She freaking thanked us. After everything we put her through, she still thanked us. That's what made it all worth it. Even if we did lose each other in the mix, those thanks are what got us through.
"Shh," Sam hushed. "Just take it easy." They picked her up carefully and moved her body to the floor, laying her down.
"I've been awake for some of it," she continued. "I couldn't move my body. The things I did—it's a nightmare." I couldn't even imagine what she could have possibly gone through. To be inside your body but not an actual part of it? How do you even really describe what that could possibly be like?
"Was it telling us the truth about our dad?"
Is he for real? We just took the only thing keeping this girl on her feet from inside of her and he was still focused on whether or not the thing was telling the truth? God, it's like these two have the worst one-track minds in the entire universe. Let's not focus on the dying girl in front of us. No. Let's focus on whether or not the demon is freaking lying.
"Dean," I scolded. Again.
"We need to know."
"We need to—"
"Yes," Meg interrupted. "But it wants," she broke off. "You to know…that…they want you to come for him."
I knew it. I knew he was alive on purpose. God, people need to give me some more credit. "Homie," I pushed to Dean, "if Dad's still alive—"
"None of that matters," he finished for me. "And don't call my homie."
I made a face as Bobby came in with a blanket and glass of water. He handed the blanket to Sam who covered her and I took the glass to help her drink while Dean held her head up.
"Where is the demon we're looking for?" Sam questioned.
"You're both insane and ridiculous. God," I huffed.
"Not there," Meg ignored me defending her and instead answered Sam. "Other ones. Awful ones."
Both brothers turned to look at me. "They were. They tortured Dad. I could hear them in the other room while she, I mean the demon in her, worked on me," I answered with a nod of the head towards Meg. "Where are they keeping him?" I asked quietly, hating myself for it. Sam and Dean were right. We did need to know. But that didn't mean I didn't need to feel awful for it. I still didn't think it was right that we were questioning her so much after everything.
She answered though, as best she could. She coughed around the words for a minute and then told us he was, "By the river. Sunrise." I didn't know what "sunrise" meant but it didn't matter because by the time she finished the sentence, the girl was already dead.
"You better hurry up and beat it," Bobby told us when Dean checked for a pulse and couldn't find one. "Before the paramedics get here."
"What are you gonna tell them?" Dean questioned Bobby as we began gathering our things to head to Missouri.
Bobby shot him a look. "You think you guys invented lying to the cops? I'll figure something out." I watched as he handed a book over to Sam, nodding. "Here take this. You might need it."
I took the book from Sam, not understanding what it was. "What is this?"
"This is the Key of Solomon," he explained as I began flipping through it. "It's where I learned about the devil's trap."
"The what to the who now?"
"The devil's trap," he pointed towards the ceiling to the markings of the circle that Meg hadn't been able to get out of. "It keeps demons—and their power—harnessed within it."
"Oh," I chirped, not really sure what else to possibly say about. What could I say about it? The book taught my brother how to make a demon circle. The only question I really had was why hadn't I known about this before? For fighting evil nastiest, I feel like we should have been better prepared against demons. "Thank you, Bobby," I told him as I held up the book. "Thanks…for everything. For helping them and for fixing my wrists. I really appreciate it. Keep careful, old man, understand me?"
Bobby didn't say anything but I could tell by the falter in his grumpy face that he appreciated it. We were still cool, even if we hadn't seen each other in forever. "You just go find your Dad. And when you do, you bring him around, would ya? I won't even try to shoot him this time."
"And I won't turn your desk into a super sized s'more," I joked before nodding to him and looking towards Dean as he started talking about "the plan".
"I don't think there were a lot of them. Just a handful or two," I explained to Dean as we went through the weapons in truck and tried to figure out which ones might be necessary for getting Dad.
"Your handful or mine? 'Cause that's a hell of a difference, Bec."
Shooting him a look I went back to grabbing a gun or two. "Just a few. No more than five, for sure."
"No more than."
"Son of a bitch."
"Five isn't a lot, Dean."
"It can be."
I just watched him as he began loading gun after gun and shoving them into the bag. His jaw began to tick and his eyes were hard. I wanted to distract him or something, make him realize he was on edge, but I didn't know how. I also kind of wasn't sure if I should. I mean, he had a point to all this. It was Dad and the demons wanted us to come and try to save him. We were basically knowingly walking into an ambush and there was a chance that some of us might not survive.
It was like all of my worrying and freaking out was coming to a completely logical head. I had been so worked up about the aspect of one of us—and it most likely being my dad—dying that I wasn't prepared for it to be an actual truth I might have to face. Just as I opened my mouth to say something to Dean, Sam interrupted. "You guys are quiet."
We were literally just talking though. Albeit not to him, but talking nonetheless. I don't know what he means by quiet. "Just getting ready," Dean explained. Ahh, got it. He meant we were being quiet about Dad.
There wasn't really much to say about him. Like I said, we're walking into a known ambush with the possibility of being too late. It was just a lot on a very small plate I suppose. There was no certainty about what type of shape Dad was in. I mean, I explained about how I'd heard him being basically pulverized and tortured and all that, but we didn't know about anything that happened after Meg had taken me with her, not to mention we didn't exactly know what kind of shape he was even in while I heard. I'd only heard. I never saw.
"He's gonna be fine, Dean," Sam tried to reassure him. Except Dean didn't answer. He was more focused and drawn into the guns. I sighed as I watched him. He really was kind of freaking about this. Not that you could tell he was freaking out seeing as he wasn't really talking about it, but he was. I knew he was.
I stepped around Dean to go talk to Sam when I saw him facing the lid of the trunk and drawing on the car. He was drawing on the car. The car. As in the Impala. Dean's baby. The thing Dean loved more than life itself.
"Dude, what are you doing?" I hissed trying to slap his hand away. We were trying to save Dad, not have Sam die.
Dean peeked over to see what I was talking about and I thought he popped a fuse. "What are you drawing on my car!?"
"It's called a Devil's trap. Demons can't get through it or inside it," Sam explained as he continued drawing.
"So?" Dean and I both bit at the same time, watching as he stepped around to the other side of the trunk and began drawing the symbol again.
Sam huffed. "It basically turns the trunk into a lockbox."
"Sam you're not making sense," I explained.
"We have a place to hide the Colt while we go get Dad."
Whoa whoa whoa, what? We're back to focusing on this stupid gun? Jesus. I mean come on. I thought we had enough other stuff on our minds that this gun wouldn't really be a main point right now. I thought Dad was definitely the most important thing right now, and in my mind I was not concerned about some stupid gun.
Dean blew me out of the water with his, "What are you talking about? We're bringing the Colt with us," too. Seriously, why couldn't we just forget about this gun for one stupid second. The whole thing was the reason why we were even in this mess. Our focus needed to be on getting Dad, then the gun. Not the gun right now.
"Dean, you know how pissed Dad would be if we used all the bullets? Dean, he wouldn't want us to bring the gun," Sam argued back.
"We shouldn't even be worrying about that stupid gun period," I threw in. "We need to get Dad. With Meg out of the picture we just need to take out that handful of demons to be in the clear. The gun isn't a priority right now."
"The gun isn't a priority?" Dean snapped. "Do you know what you're talking about, Becca? Of course this gun is a priority. We need it to kill the demon and one of those demons in there might be him. We need to take it in case we need it."
I glared at him. "No, we need to forget about the gun and focus on getting Dad. That's all."
"I don't care," he bit. "Becca, I don't care what you think right now, and Sam, I don't care what Dad wants right now, okay? And since when do you care what Dad wants?"
"We want to kill this demon. You both used to want that, too. Hell, Dean, you were the one who came and got me at school! You're the ones who dragged me back into this, guys. I'm just trying to finish it."
Dean scoffed and glared at Sam. "Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that?" I crossed my arms over my chest and mumbled out how I had been saying that for a while now, and received two glares sent right my way. "You both can't wait to sacrifice yourselves to this thing. But you know what? We're gonna be the ones to bury you," he indicated with a finger between himself and me. "You're selfish, you know that? You don't care about anything but revenge."
All right. Now this was getting a little bit out of hand. They'd begun to throw low blows and it wasn't fair. "Okay, relax. We can do this without fighting," I tried to fix the problem. Even though I thought they were both wrong for even putting this gun in the forefront of their minds in comparison to Dad, I couldn't have them fighting. Them fighting didn't help anyone at all. It only created issues in our unit that would further tear us apart and I didn't exactly see that being a bonus anywhere down the line.
"That's not true, Dean," Sam begun to argue back, only to have Dean scoff in his face. "I want Dad back. But they are expecting us to bring the gun. They get the gun, they will kill us all. That Colt is our only leverage and you know it, Dean. We cannot bring that gun. We can't."
I hadn't thought about it that way, you know. Using the gun as leverage. Sam had a point. If we went in there guns blazing while carrying the gun on our person, who did that help? It killed me to have to admit it, but Sam was right. We needed to leave the gun behind so that we could actually have a way to get Dad.
"Fine," Dean snapped.
"He's right, Dean," I tried quietly.
"I said fine." He then made a show of pulling the Colt out of his pocket and waving it in front of our faces to prove to us what he was doing before he then stuck it in the now demon proof trunk. "Happy?" he bit.
I shot him a look but it didn't do much to make him change his mind. "So what's the plan?"
"I think you should stay back," Dean answered, almost unsure of himself.
"You've got to be kidding me," I groaned. "Why?"
"Bringing you in there isn't going to help us. They think that you're with Meg. If they know that you're with us, it's only going to show that something happened to Meg and—"
"You walking in there without Meg is going to show that something happened to Meg. My being there doesn't make a difference."
With what looked like a pained face, Dean continued. "I just think it's better if you sit back this one, okay? Please, I'm asking you to please sit out and wait at the hotel for this one."
"Becca, we don't know what's going to happen in there and I'm not going to have you there as any kind of—"
"Pull. I don't need them trying to use you against us, or against Dad. We don't even know what kind of condition he is in. You need to stay back."
We'd found a cabin. Well, I'd found a cabin. And I'd stayed back. I didn't want to, but I did. I told them if they died I'd kill them though, including Dad. There weren't allowed to be any dead bodies. I'd salted everything when they dropped me here, so now all there was to do was to wait. I was really good at waiting—but that didn't mean I liked doing it. I always felt like the longer they took meant that something was wrong. Someone got hurt. Someone…died. And so far it'd only ever gone as far as someone got hurt. Instinct told me to get the bandages ready. To have all the bags packed and loaded by the door incase. I can't begin to tell you the amount of times that I have had to leave the room the minute they get there and things have been forgotten. It's just normal now to have everything packed and ready to go. I'd be helping whoever it was when they needed me while we were in the car. So right now… I waited.
It felt like years since they'd dropped me off until they came in dragging a beaten Dad with them. Not that they didn't look completely destroyed themselves. Sam's face was bruised and bloody and swollen; Dad was hardly conscious and Dean was…Well, Dean was Dean. He looked better than Sam, that's for sure. I felt my throat close at the sight of them. I mean they looked just awful. And I hadn't been there to help them. It was one of those moments where I prayed they'd say, "Yeah but you should get a look at the other guy," yet it never came. I wanted to know that the other guy looked worse. I prayed they looked worse.
I was impatiently waiting for Sam to stop resalting the door and window that I'd messed up earlier so that I could help him. "Will you just sit down so I can fix your face?" I huffed.
He shot me a look so cold I almost let it freeze the blood in my veins. Almost. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. Let me fix your face," I tried tugging him to a chair so that I could fix him. He didn't budge. He instead shrugged me off as Dean came out of the back room where he was helping Dad. "Dean, tell Sam to let me fix his face."
"You can't fix what's wrong with his face, Bec," he tried to joke, only to earn an unamused glare from me.
"Should I go fix Dad?" I quickly bit, trying to find something that would occupy both my hands and mind so that I didn't think about what had actually happened to them. It was something I'd learned to do way back when. If I just focused on fixing the problem I didn't actually think about what had caused the problem. I know, I know, it's weird. Just, let me do my thing, all right? Because I need to.
Dean held up his hand, signaling that I should slow down and relax. "He just needed a little rest, that's all. How are you?" he then nodded towards Sam.
"Only if you let me fix you!"
"Becca, stop," Sam fought as I tried to attack his face with a rag that I had wet and wanted to use to wipe away blood so I could stitch him up. "I'll survive, without you patching me up." When I finally spiked the rag onto the table and huffed because he wouldn't let me help him, he shot me a raised eyebrow before turning to Dean. "Hey, uh…Dean, you, um…you saved my life back there."
"So, I guess you're glad I brought the gun, huh?"
Wait a minute. "You took the gun?" I hissed, turning on Dean to see him look taken aback by my outburst. "I thought we agreed it was smarter to leave the gun behind! Now I found out you lied to us? We are supposed to be a team, Dean. You're supposed to work with us. Not against us. If you just keep on doing whatever the hell you want because you think it's right—"
"I used it to save Sam's life. If I hadn't taken the damn thing you'd be mourning the loss of a brother. Is that what you wanted?"
I couldn't help but to shut up at that. Granted I did continue to glare at him because he's stupid. But still. Of course I'm glad that he saved Sam's life by doing it, but… but… I don't know. This is all just so complicated all of a sudden.
"I'm trying to thank you," Sam spoke over me, back to Dean.
Huffing out his annoyance with me, Dean looked at Sam. "You're welcome." Sam moved across the room of the cabin to begin checking the other windows I'd already salted. As he did, Dean called out to stop him. "Hey, Sam?"
"You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there," Dean explained. I watched his face fall at the mention of it. That wasn't really fair of him to beat himself up over it. We actually technically didn't even realize people were possessed by the dirty demons themselves until Bobby pointed it out with Meg. For Dean to feel like he ended an innocent life—which yeah I guess you're right he did—wasn't fair. He was going to live with that regret forever now, and I knew it.
I hated that. I hated knowing that for how much good my brother did he was now going to suffer with this regret. Never had we ever thought about how innocent people were the outsides of these monsters. We were taught to look at them as though they were strictly evil and to take them out. That's what I remember most probably. Shoot first ask questions later was our freaking motto, are you kidding me. And now, with just the mention of it, Bobby flipped our entire world upside down. Again.
"You didn't have a choice, Dean," I tried to reassure him. "If that thing was trying to kill Sam, human or not, I would prefer it dead. Family first, right?"
"Yeah, I know, that's not what bothers me," he explained with a sigh as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Killing that guy, killing Meg… I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch. For Sam or Dad. The things I'm willing to do or kill, it's just uh…it scares me sometimes."
Sam didn't respond. He just stared at Dean, not knowing what to say. Not that I can blame him really. What do you say to that? I mean, sure, okay, yes. I understand that when you look deep inside yourself it is probably terrifying to know that if it came down to certain things you wouldn't hesitate to kill another person or thing if it meant that your family would be alive—but I can't blame him. If it came down to me having to kill someone to keep Dean or Sam safe, I think I might do it. Maybe. I guess it depends on who it was I'd have to kill… I guess I've never put much thought into it really.
I wanted to reassure Dean that he'd made the right decision and shouldn't be afraid to protect his family, except that was the moment Dad chose to appear—looking beat the heck up, I might add. "It shouldn't," he announced as he stepped forward. "You did good."
Whoa whoa whoa. "You did good"? What was this some sort of joke? Dad didn't say things like that to us. At least, not often. It was super rare to receive a compliment from him—especially since Dean just admitted that he was scared which was not exactly allowed in our line of work. Being scared meant you were weak. It made you a liability. It made you me in my dad's eyes. You weren't just scared. I mean, no. You weren't allowed to be scared. Dad wouldn't just accept that. His head was definitely messed up right now.
"You're not mad?" Dean questioned, seeming as thrown off by the entire thing as I was.
"For what?" Dad retorted.
For what? What does he mean "for what"? For killing someone, for being scared, for wasting a bullet, for all kinds of things. What did he mean for what? Is this man even my father right now, cheesus.
"Using a bullet," Dean answered. And he sounded nonchalant about it, too. What is going on with my family right now? Is no one in their right mind? Did these demons infect—oh my god. That's it.
I did my best to pretend my mind hadn't just considered the fact that my dad was not himself because there was a demon inside him, but I had a feeling my dumb ole eyes gave me away. I had to somehow figure out a way for Sam and Dean to understand what I thought I now understood, except they were both looking at Dad like he was crazy and not me.
"Mad?" Dad asked with a mild humor to his voice. "I'm proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you—you watch out for this family. You always have."
All right. Just how long has my father been not himself because this never happens. He doesn't take blame at all, and he has been lately. I mean, seriously. There's no way that Dad would just be all hunky dory like, "Oh, yeah kids, I'm wrong. You're so right. I've been making a big mistake about getting all carried away with this demon ha ha ha," no. That's not my dad. My dad would be drilling into our heads why we were screwing up the plan. Why wasting a bullet would mean possible devastation for everything we'd worked our entire lives for. We were always hunting the thing that killed Mom and now that we knew what it was we needed all the chances we could get. By Dad saying he was okay with Dean wasting one of those chances—I knew. I knew for certain, in case I wasn't sure before, I most definitely was now. Whatever this Dad was, wasn't my dad. No. Not this guy.
Dean thanked him and then the wind outside grew crazy. It was howling and then the lights started flickering. My eyes turned towards the window and my brothers and father crowded around me. Although it was dark out, I was sure that leaves were pretty much horizontal with how bad the wind was at this point. "It found us," Dad announced. "It's here."
"The demon?" Sam and I voiced at the same time.
"Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door."
"I already did it," he answered, his brows furrowed.
That was rule one when we got places. Always salt every entrance and exit. To assume that Sam wouldn't have done that was insane. To assume that it wouldn't have been done the minute I was dropped off here before was double insane. The demon inside my father just kept giving away huge hints to me that something was wrong—but I didn't know how to fix it. I didn't know how to alert my brothers without announcing it out loud and letting the demon know I knew. I had to tell them in secret so that we could take it down without letting it hurt us. We needed to get it out of Dad before it caused him any kind of harm.
Dad told Sam to check the windows and doors and I took that as my opportunity, following him into the back room to relay what I'd learned. Quickly shutting the door behind us when we got into the room I grabbed his shirt and forced him to look at me.
"That's not Dad," I blurted quietly.
Sam looked like I was insane. "What are you talking about?"
"Sam, use your college brain, would ya? That's not Dad. He would never talk like that knowing what Dean did. He would be so—" He rolled his eyes and turned away from me, making me glare at the back of his dumb head. "Look," I started over. "I know Dad. And that guy out there may look like him, but he definitely isn't acting like him. He's too…too…okay with what happened. Dad doesn't just say he's proud of us. Not like that."
"Maybe he's changed, Bec," Sam tried as he double-checked the salt lines by the windows—even though we knew they'd be fine.
"Since when do you know Dad to have changed, Sam? Think about it. When was the last time he admitted he was wrong?"
"How about just the other day?" Sam tried as he spun around with an annoyed look. "Dean told him we needed to work together as a family, and he agreed. He understood why we went against orders, and he said he was wrong. What else do you need?"
Sam was right. That did all happen, and pretty much just yesterday, too. But that didn't prove he was right. "So maybe he's been possessed longer than we thought. Maybe—"
My face froze in a confused state. "What do you mean you checked?"
He shrugged his shoulders and gave me an "I don't know what to tell you" look. "When we got him, I threw holy water on him. Nothing happened. Dad isn't possessed."
"Then he's just gone insane. I mean it, Sam. Something about that man out there is wrong. Dad doesn't act like that and you pretending it's fine isn't helping."
"I'm not pretending, Becca. How do you know he's not fine?"
"Have you even been listening to anything he's been saying? Jesus, just think about it for one second, would you?"
Sam was growing beyond upset at this point. I could see the annoyance flashing and even thought I would normally work to right it, part of me took pride in it. At least this way I was getting my point across to him. "How many times do I need to tell you—he's fine. He's changed. Why can't you just accept it?"
"Because you're wrong."
He shoved past me at that point and practically stomped back into the main area of the cabin. I quickly trailed after him and ran into his back when he stopped. I moved him to the side and my eyes bugged out of my head at the site of Dean pointing the Colt at Dad.
"Dean?" Sam huffed. "What the hell's going on?"
"Your brother's lost his mind," Dad hissed back, almost seeming to joke about it. He didn't seem as upset as I normally would have pictured him. Except at this point I could see that Dean actually might have lost his mind.
"He's not Dad," Dean bit back quickly.
Ahh, no Dean hasn't lost his mind at all! He totally recognized what had happened here, and it made me throw Sam an "I told you so" that was beyond warranted. Sam didn't believe me or him though because he questioned what the hell Dean was even talking about.
"I think he's possessed," Dean explained. "I think he's been possessed since we rescued him." He was angry at this point and I could see that it was killing him to even think it. In Dean's mind at this point he hadn't really rescued Dad. If he had, it would be Dad standing there—not whatever this was.
"Don't listen to him, Sammy," Dad spoke, not lowering his hands or taking his eyes off of Dean.
"Dean," Sam barked, his eyes searching back and forth between Dean and Dad, "how do you know?"
I could see in Dean's eyes as they searched over our father that he didn't know how to explain that Dad was different, but that he knew him to just be that way. His hand shook as he tried to hold the gun straight and keep his target locked.
I tightened my hand into a fist and swallowed. "He's different," I tried, looking directly at Dean and hoping he'd lock eyes with me so I could see his agreement. And he did. Even though it only lasted a quick second, he did and I saw. Dean knew deep down that whatever was in front of him wasn't Dad and that we had to find a way to fight it regardless of what it was. What mattered now was that we were here with whatever was currently taking up residence inside our father, and we needed to figure out how to get rid of it so that we wouldn't have to end up shooting our dad.
"It's like he's changed," I continued, slowly walking around Sam so I could make my way forward, towards Dean. "Dad would be livid that you wasted a bullet. He wouldn't have congratulated and been proud. Our dad isn't like that. He's harsh and sticks to the same rules. I think he's been possessed for a while now. Since we hunted those vampires."
"You know, we don't have time for this. Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you've got to trust me," Dad argued as he talked to Sam. That rubbed me weird. He wasn't trying to persuade me or Dean that he was Dad. Instead he was trying to gain Sam's trust because he knew that if anyone could get Dean to change his mind, it'd be me and Sam—except I didn't want Dean to change his mind. I believed what Dean did, and I needed Sam to see that too. I needed Sam to not turn against Dean and I because that would only make it harder when we figured out whatever it was that was really going on.
Sam continued to stand there now that I was at Dean's side. His eyes just continued to scan and search between all of us like he was waiting for the answer to fall out of thin air so that he wouldn't have to actually make it. He took so long in trying to figure out what he believed that Dad actually called out his name to question it. "No. No," he finally spoke before coming to stand beside Dean and me. I let out a breath I'd been holding in and I allowed my shoulders to slouch just the slightest. Because, if we three were together, then we could conquer anything and everything.
Dad, or the thing in front of me that was pretending to be my dad, looked at us. His eyes slowly swept over each of us individually before taking us in as a whole. Then he actually looked upset. He had the nerve to look like we offended him by claiming that he wasn't really our dad. His face twisted into one of disbelief before he sneered at us and said, "Fine. If you're all so sure, go ahead. Kill me."
If this family seriously calls me the dramatic one, one more time, I'm gonna go off on them and use this moment for a reference. First off, if you want to prove you are my dad, don't effing tell me to kill you. All that's gonna get is my fist upside your stupid head. Not really because you're my dad, but if you were Sam or Dean I'd most definitely punch you in the skull. "Kill me"? You had better get out of here right now or hold me back because I am about to go off. You can be damn sure that if I had any thoughts about you actually being my dad they are gone now. There is no way in the shistershire that is my life that my father would ever legitimately tell me or my brothers to kill him. Someone hold my jacket. I'm about to knock some sense into this dumbass.
"I'm sorry, did you just say kill you?" my voice was icy and cold as the anger forced me forward a few steps. "You want us to prove that you're not our dad, by killing you. That's rich." I felt a hand reach out and grab my arm but I just ignored it as it I tried to get even closer to the man in front of me. "Just off the one person who knows more than any of us put together about the monster world and you want us to just kill him. Do you know who we are? What family means to us? Whatever you are, is inside of him. We kill you, we kill him, and we're not doing that."
By the time Sam's hand was able to slap over my mouth and his opposite arm was capable to wrap around me to pin me to his chest, my piece had be pretty much said. And I was right. I knew I was. Whatever was in front of us wanted our dad out of the picture for a reason. That was the only logical reason for even suggesting that we kill him. Which we never would. Not Dad.
I could almost feel the fear and uncertainty inside of Sam as he held me against him. He had gone stiff and I didn't even think he was really breathing. Now, I know my history with my dad is a little rocky and hard to fully comprehend—what with my constant back and forth of "obey", "don't get in the middle", and of course those torrential teenage and early twenties of "Imma speak my mind and get scared after" moments. But I'd never just gone off like that, I mean, I don't think I had. Even with the vampire thing; it had been a few slick comments, but I didn't just go off. I think Sam was more worried because part of him still expected the thing to be Dad in front of us, instead of whatever was inside, pretending to be him.
Except Dad wasn't staring at us. He was staring at the ground, waiting, as if Dean's shaky hand to my left was really going to be able to go and shoot him. Please. The only words Dad muttered were, "I thought so," and when he looked back up, his eyes were yellow.
The shock that left my system was nothing compared to the slam my body got as it was thrown up against the wall beside my brothers. The pressure and force—again, all too familiar and way too disliked—against my chest was cutting off my air and I was gasping and doing my best to push away from the plaster. I didn't even notice that Dean had dropped the Colt until my dad's body bent over to pick it up off the ground. My strength of the power against me felt like a vice. I couldn't even lift my fingers as they tried to form a fist or push me off the wall.
"What a pain in the ass this thing's been," the demon stated with a smirk, eying and admiring the Colt.
Sam struggled beside me, his voice fighting the same pressure I felt pushing up against my neck. "It's you, isn't it?" he choked out, the strain evident. "We've been looking for you for a long time."
"Well, you found me," the demon snapped back, clearly amused at the situation we were now in.
"But the holy water?" Sam questioned.
"You think something like that works on something like me?"
The comment had Sam struggling even more against the wall as he worked to release himself from the supernatural hold. I can't even tell you if the guy got any leverage or anything because my body had begun to ache as I continued to struggle for freedom and I felt pressure increasing as I did so.
"I'm gonna kill you," Sam shouted.
The demon looked up at him, a smirk in place. "Oh, that'd be a neat trick. In fact, here." I watched as he set the gun on the table. His eyes flashed up to us, waiting with an expectant smile. "Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy."
Sam's eyes were drawn to the gun and by how loud he was grinding his teeth I'd say that he was trying his absolute hardest to get that gun to even move an inch. It didn't. Even with how much he was concentrating, the gun didn't even shift. I could hear him panting lightly as he gave up.
"Well, this is fun," the demon said before walking over beside Dean. "I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this," he sighed, "this is worth the wait."
With a quick lurch my body jolted and I heard myself begin to scream as I moved up along the wall and towards the ceiling of the room. My nails were digging into the wall, trying their best to keep me back, but it was no use as I struggled against the pressure.
The demon inside my dad only smiled as he watched me, fear in my face as I knew what was coming next. "Your dad," he taunted, not yet cutting into my stomach or setting me on fire—but instead just holding me still for the moment while I begged for release, "he's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says "hi" by the way. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood. And then he's going to watch your sister burn. He's going to watch and see another person he couldn't save."
"Let them go, or I swear to God—"Dean started, anger and fear lacing his voice as I continued to beg for freedom against the ceiling.
"What?" the demon interrupted. "What are you and God gonna do? You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice," he stated before walking over to Dean. "You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter."
"The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand," he continued.
Dean's anger flared through his words of, "You've got to be kidding me."
The demon growled before turning even angrier than my brother. "What? You're the only one that can have a family?" he practically shouted. "You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?" my high-pitched scream broke the air as I felt a harsh pain in my head. My body wanted to arch in response to the sharp stab that and just entered my brain and felt as though it was pulling my scalp away from my skull, but the demon kept me flat against the ceiling, the pain only increasing. "Oh, that's right," the demon smiled as my pain subsided and I began to pant in response. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don't make a right." The pain returned and I screamed out in agony once more before he spoke again. "But revenge does taste sweet," he smirked to Dean as I cried against the sharp stabs.
"You son of a bitch," Dean hissed.
"I wanna know why," Sam seemed to quickly burst as my eyes watered and grew faint against the fading pain. I wanted my body to go numb as Sam asked why he'd done it. I wanted it all to end as my head began to tingle as a result.
"You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty, little Jess?" the demon asked as he turned to face my twin.
The demon turned back to Dean and I felt a trickle of fear slither out into the room. "You know, I never told you this, but Sam was going to ask her to marry him," he announced before backing towards Sam. "Been shopping for rings." My eyes widened as much as they could at his words. Sam was going to propose, and this demon ruined that for him. "You want to know why? Because they got in the way."
I felt like I was going to be sick. This thing killed the mother I never knew and the girl Sam was in love with because he didn't feel like working around them. It was like he didn't care about the body count as long as he got his way—and he hurt my family in the process. Twice.
Sam was growing angrier and more hurt by the second. I could hear it in his voice when he asked what they had gotten in the way of, and I felt sick. I didn't know what I could do from my place on the ceiling though. There was no way to go and comfort him and I literally couldn't even lift a finger to try and fight my way out of the hold. "Sam," I shouted, "don't listen to him. He's just trying to—"
My voice cut off with a scream as the pain seared through my system once more. I felt the tears begin to drip from my eyes to the floor and it was like I was choking on the pain in my throat. "My plans for you, Sammy," the demon growled over my yells. "You…and all the children like you."
Dean cut in, trying to draw the demon's attention. "Listen, you mind getting this over with, huh? Cause I really can't stand the monologuing."
I knew what he was doing. He was trying to break up whatever plan the demon had and distract him from us, but I didn't see this guy really going out of his way to break his plans. He said we had gone and destroyed his family, so I assumed he was going to try and destroy ours.
The demon moved over to Dean and stared him in the face. "Funny," he spoke, "but that's all part of your M.O., isn't it? Masks all that nasty pain, masks the truth."
I freaking knew it.
"Oh yeah? What's that?" Dean sarcastically questioned.
"You know, you fight for this family, but the truth is they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam—he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight it's more concern than he's ever shown you."
That wasn't true. I needed Dean. I needed Dean because without him I don't think I'd even exist at this point. I tried calling out to him, to tell him that but the pain returned and all I could do was try and bite my tongue against it. When I felt blood I tried to spit it on the demon but I missed. My eyes were watery and blurry and I knew that he was just holding off before tearing apart my stomach and lighting me on fire—and at this point I almost wanted it. Anything to make the back and forth end.
"I bet you're real proud of your kids, too, huh? Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted 'em." Dean wouldn't quit with the snarky comments and I really wanted to tell him to. He was only egging this thing on and I know that's what he wanted, but I mean he needed to stop. If he didn't I was afraid that the demon would just kill him instead of continuing its work on me and although I felt that was what my brother preferred, it wasn't what I wanted.
They stood there, well sort of. The demon stood there in my Dad's body, looking at my brother who was pinned to a wall smiling like a moron. Typical night in the Winchester household. I was seriously considering putting myself up for adoption when this was all over. If I lived through it I mean. If I died then there really wouldn't be the point to try and be adopted. Anyone attempting to adopt a dead body needed to be analyzed and we can add them to the long list of "Need to be Ganked"—but that's another story for another day, now isn't it? Besides, if I did die I made that promise to Sam that I'd haunt him. I wouldn't want to cancel those plans since we're both probably looking forward to them so much.
The demon then moved back, putting his head up and staring at me with a sick smile on his face. Then the new pain started. "I'm going to enjoy this one, especially" he stated. "It won't be as quick as Mommy. And you're going to watch." Both my brothers' heads moved up sharply as the cuts began along my skin. "I'll make sure she suffers good and long." My stomach felt like it was being torn open from the inside. My screams fought against yells of my brothers and tears dripped from my eyes faster than I could imagine. I wanted to writhe and push and curl and everything you do when you're in pain except I couldn't. I was stuck there with pressure pushing me into the ceiling while pain radiated from my abdomen, spreading out to my limbs.
Then I heard it, the vague yells of my brother as he screamed in pain. Our agonies mixed in the air and I found myself calling out to him, for whatever reason was beyond me. Dean began to yell out but it was incoherent to me as the pain took over my entire body. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open against their desire to close and my body's insistence to shut down completely.
There was a crack in the air and my body released from the ceiling, causing yet another scream to leave my body. This was it. I was falling to my death. Moments began to swirl through my mind—full of brunette girls and annoyingly tall brothers and laughs and then just when I thought I was gone, Sam caught me, oomphing and falling to the ground at the impact.
My stomach was on fire and Sam gently laid me on the ground before lifting my shirt from my torso. "You're cut. They're not deep but there's a lot. You're gonna be okay."
"Make it stop," I begged. "Just make it go away."
"Put pressure on it," he instructed as he pressed my hands against my abdomen with a pressure that caused a sharp, bruise like sensation to spread through my stomach, making me wince.
He moved away then, checking on Dean who then instructed him to check on our dad. I could feel the cuts as the pads of my fingers and hands pressed tightly against them. I wanted to move. I wanted to see the demon. Using one hand to hold against my stomach, I used my other to brace myself and push up against the floor so that I was sitting.
"Sammy!" came loudly across the room. "It's still alive," I heard my dad shouting. "It's inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me. You shoot me in the heart, son. Do it now!"
I heard my voice arguing that Sam better not shoot him before I recognized the command from my brain to actually do so. At this point I was in too much numbing pain to try and decide if this was still the demon trying to off my father or my actual father trying to off the demon. My head was still throbbing from the pain and I began to slide myself towards the area I last knew the supplies to be for when I had tried to stitch up Sam.
Dad continued to shout at Sam. "You've got to hurry! I can't hold onto it much longer. You shoot me, son! Shoot me! Son, I'm begging you. We can end this here and now. Sammy!" Dean and I both shouted back a resounding "No" at the same time, as Dad argued above us. "You do this! Sammy! Sam…."
Suddenly a thick black cloud left Dad, rising up before falling down to the ground like a heavy puddle of tar and seeping through the floor until I was gone completely.
I was in the back seat of the Impala as Sam sped down the road towards the hospital. I'd done my best to stitch up myself and was lucky enough that the cuts were shallow enough for Sam and I to be able to do our best—but Dean wasn't so lucky. Sam explained that as Dean fought against the demon as a result of my own pain, the demon reacted by digging into Dean even deeper. Who knew that the demon wanting to drag out my pain would only end up being my benefit in this whole mess.
My hands were pressed tightly up against Dean's chest and I could feel the blood seeping through my fingers and bubbling beneath my palm. I hadn't been able to stitch him up as well as I could myself and with the amount of blood he was already losing—the hospital was the only way I knew for sure that he would be able to live. He was slumped over against the door and I could barely keep him sitting up so that I could try to at least put gauze or something against the cuts.
"Sam, you need to go faster, please," I begged as I was starting to lose focus on where the color of Dean's shirt started and the stains of blood stopped.
"Look, just hold on, all right?" he responded as he quick looked over his shoulder. "The hospital's only ten minutes away."
"Well, get there in five," I snapped as I decided to try and lay Dean on the seat.
I reached for my flashlight in the first aid kit and turned it on before placing it in my mouth and deciding that I needed to do what I could. Tears began to prick at my eyes as Dean's breathing grew shallow and his eyes seemed to roll back into his head.
"No, come on," I mumbled around the flashlight as I slapped him in the face—lightly—and ignored my father and brother in front of me.
Grabbing out the gauze and the biggest needle I could find, I fished out the dental floss and lifted my head to try and thread the eye of the needle. When the light of my flashlight rose with my mouth through the open window, I gasped. Straight of head of me there was a glimpse of metal hurtling towards us and I spit out the flashlight as quick as I could as the truck continued directly towards my face.
"Sam," I shouted into their argument. "Look ou—"