Chapter Text
She watches as the barn is consumed by flames. Watches as her prison crumbles and burns. And as it does, a weight settles over her heart. Because she can't-
She doesn't feel anything. Not even relief. And even though he's dead, even though he can never hurt her again… it doesn't matter. Because he finally got what he wanted. She's… broken. Maybe even… too broken to be fixed. And just like every second before this one, she wishes…
That she stayed dead.
𖤍
They don't speak until they get to the car. Sam turns to her with that same pitying expression from before. It makes her feel even more tired than she already was.
"Um, so you want me to make him sit up or…?" He asks gently, gesturing to the car. To Gabriel. She stares at him through the car window for a moment, then shakes her head. She needs him there. The reminder that he's out too. Besides that…
He could use the rest.
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She stares out the window in silence for a long time. It's sunny. Hot to the point of… suffocating. And that tells her… It's past May. She's twenty-three now and she- She was there for longer than she thought. Months. Oh christ- NO. No, she's-
She's not thinking about that. She can't.
So she clears her mind and just… watches. It's only when they pass a thick grove of trees that she remembers… purgatory. She tilts her head towards Sam, putting the pieces together. Dean… isn't here. She swallows. Her throat feels dry, even after drinking a full bottle of water but she still... speaks. Because if he's- then…
"Did he-" Sam looks at her in the rearview mirror, and she feels her willpower to keep talking wither away. She shakes her head and looks out the window again. "Dean." She rasps, hoping he'll understand.
He clears his throat.
"Uh yeah… He said something about purgatory fixing Cas's head? Figured it was worth a shot since-" He pauses. She doesn't look away from the window. "Um, since we couldn't find your journal."
She stills. That's right, she…
She swallows again.
"Buried it…" She glances down at Gabriel's sleeping form in her lap, her hand on his shoulder. "Didn't want him to find it."
"Oh." She can feel Sam staring at her again. "That's um… smart."
She doesn't respond, just presses her cheek against the window and leans into the door. She… doesn't want to think about that right now. About everything it means. She doesn't want to think about anything at all.
Her eyes slip shut, but she doesn't sleep. Not until her mind goes fuzzy at the edges, until the beating of her heart slows and…
Until she can convince herself that when she opens her eyes again, she won't find herself right back in her cell. Or worse…
The barn.
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She doesn't dream. She just closes her eyes that final time, and when she opens them again; she's on a bed that's too soft, even with the springs poking into her side. She shoots up and scans her surroundings, only relaxing after she sees Gabriel sleeping on the bed next to her. She falls back and stares up at the ceiling until she feels a sharp pang in her bladder that lets her know… she has to go to the bathroom. She stays for a couple more seconds then… rolls off the bed, making a halting, slow path to the door.
Then she passes the mirror. And stops dead in her tracks. Because it can't be-
Is that… really her?
She knew she wouldn't look- But she's so… So dirty and thin and how- How is she supposed to shower like this? Just the thought of stripping down, making herself vulnerable again… She shivers and hugs herself, fingers brushing underneath her shirt, over the freshly healed scar. Even- Even if she could do that, even if she showers in her clothes, her hair…
It's never been this tangled. To fix that, she'd have to brush it. She'd have to pull and pull until it- until it-
'Okay?'
She flinches, breathing even faster as she whips around to him. And he looks like he's- Like they're still- She swallows hard at that thought and looks away, trying to shake it out of her head.
'I- I can't- My hair-' Then she shudders and shakes her head again. She- She can't even think. Not like this.
'Want me to help?'
She looks up, shaken out of her panic attack for just a second. And she wants… so, so damn badly to say yes. But…
'I- I can't. You just woke up. Your grace… I don't want it to-'
He rolls his eyes, and a feeling comes across the line… annoyance and something else.
'Please. This is a drop in the bucket. The day I can't rearrange a few tiny little atoms, might as well stop calling myself an archangel.' He thinks, with a pointed raise of his eyebrows.
She stares. Because she doesn't know why he's insisting on it. Why he would waste his grace on her. But whatever the reason is… she's not going to argue. Still…
She lets her hands drop and nods, already feeling tired as the panic starts to bleed out of her.
'Fine but… let me take those out.' She thinks, pointing to his mouth.
Because if it's the healing that's hard for him then… He might not be able to do it himself. And the reason for that…
Her. No matter what way she looks at it.
His face goes blank. He looks away and… the connection shuts off. So she was right. He can control it. She wonders if he can feel her too but then... she realizes it doesn't matter.
Because there's nothing left for him to feel. Again.
Silence stretches out between them, then he looks back to her and nods. He moves closer, his hand brushing the side of her temple. Her eyes slip closed involuntarily, and she sighs as that same tingling sensation from before passes along her scalp, followed by a wave of freshness along the rest of her body. She doesn't open them again until he pulls away. Their eyes meet for a split second before he looks down and gestures for her to look so… she turns.
And blinks at the person staring back at her.
For one thing… She's cleaner than before. She didn't ask him to do that but she's also… She doesn't have to shower now. For a while, at least. And her hair…
She runs her hand through the shorn bristles on the back of her head, up into shiny curls that part easily under her fingers. It's short enough that it won't tangle. She might not even have to brush it. But most importantly…
It's too short to grab her by.
She lets her hand drop and turns back to him, something stirring in her chest, just a little, before it disappears again.
'Thank you.' She thinks, trying to sound grateful. She knows she would be if- If she could. His eyes burn into hers for a few more seconds, then he looks away and shrugs, face still devoid of emotion. And it makes her think… He must feel the same way she does. Or probably…
Worse.
She inhales sharply and moves to the bare kitchen table, which is, thankfully, bright blue instead of a more normal color like-
Her hands shake as she pulls out a chair for him, trying to ignore the images of that table flashing behind her eyes. She slips past him quickly, to the bathroom. Then she grabs her toiletry bag and tries to clear her mind.
When she returns, she sets it down on the table gently, unzipping the bag in one quick motion. Even then, she can see him tense in the corner of her eye. She glances up to remind him that it's not the same, but that thought disappears the second her eyes meet his. Because the way he's looking at her, it's like… The same way he looked just before…
Before she died.
But she can't- She's not thinking about that. About what came after. About the fact that part of her… Hates him. For keeping her going. Keeping her fighting even when she had nothing left. For keeping her alive. Even though she would have done the same for him she still… She can't let it go. Those few seconds before everything went wrong, and it was just… quiet. Peaceful.
Like drifting off to sleep.
She looks back down and shakes her head, forcing her mind to clear. Then she opens the bag, hand hovering over the manicure scissors before she looks back up.
'Ready?'
He looks from the scissors to her. She holds his gaze for a moment, as calm as she can manage. Then the fear recedes from his eyes a little, and he nods. She moves closer and places her hand on his jaw to steady them both. She's careful to put it in a place that he never did, careful to keep her touch soft, the same way he did for her.
She waits until his breathing slows, then brings her mostly steady hand up and starts to cut away at the dirty fishing floss that she knows hasn't been touched since- Since it happened. She works in silence, willing herself not to think about the context of what she's removing and only looking away to make sure he's still okay. It's only when the floss is all gone that she lets her hand fall to grab the antiseptic from the bottom of her bag and some gauze. She might… have to cut away at his beard to get to it-
Then the line opens up again.
'I can do it.' He thinks, brow knitting.
She pauses, watching him carefully.
'Do you want me to-'
The door opens behind her. She flinches at the same time he does, dropping the bottle and turning to-
Bobby.
He stills, eyes flitting over both of them, lingering on her hair for a moment before he looks down and reaches up to readjust his hat.
"Sorry kid. Figured you two were still sleepin'."
She stares at him, not sure what to say back. She hears Gabriel pick up what she dropped and walk away before she can think of anything and… The connection shuts off again.
She turns her head, tracking him until he's gone, then turns back and meets Bobby's gaze for a split second before they both look away. He clears his throat and places a bag on the table next to her.
"Got ya' some soup. Somethin'... Easy for your stomach. Got some for him too." He says with a nod, still not meeting her eye. He crosses his arms. "Don't know if he'll need it though."
An awkward silence stretches between them after that, and she knows it's because of her. So she says what she's supposed to.
"Thanks."
Something in his face shifts for a moment, then he shakes his head and smiles. But it's… wrong. Not his real smile.
"Ain't nothin' to thank me for kid."
And the way he said that… Oh.
He thinks it's his fault. Her getting taken. And even though she knows it isn't, even though she remembers exactly how horrible that kind of guilt feels…
She says nothing. And then… he leaves.
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It's a few days before either of them speak to her, other than to try to get her to eat. But eventually Sam asks where she hid the journal and… after that, he asks about Dean. She- she knew it was coming but she still doesn't…
She looks away. Hugs her knees to her chest.
"He's fine." She says curtly, hoping that will be enough but… Sam never did know when to stop pushing.
“Okay, that's good." He sighs. "But I mean… how long are they gonna be there? And what about-"
She shakes her head and curls into herself more, jamming her eyes closed and trying desperately to hold off another panic attack. Because thinking about Dean means thinking about Cas and Naomi and-
And she doesn't want to be responsible for any of this but she IS. At least… While she's still breathing. But why does she even bother doing that? They don't need her, not like she is now. She doesn't care about them anymore and… Gabriel's safe. There's nothing left to live for. Still… She can't do it. Not yet.
Not until they find that journal. Once they find it, she can… She just has to wait a few days.
Wait a few days and this nightmare will be over. She can forget. Coast on her best memories for the rest of time.
Just like she planned.
She relaxes suddenly and unfurls, letting her legs hang over the edge of the bed. Sam frowns when she meets his eye, calm for the first time since… before. Then he shakes his head and gives her another one of those looks.
"I'm sorry." He says softly. "I shouldn't have brought it up so soon. I-" He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm just worried, you know?"
She looks down at the scratchy quilt beneath her. No. She doesn't know. Because Dean could never come back and she wouldn't care.
She can't care.
But Sam doesn't need to know that and… she'll be long gone before he ever figures it out.
"A year."
"That… That's when he'll be back?" He asks. She nods and falls on her back again, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He says more, but she's not listening. Not really. Then she hears a sigh and the sound of the door closing. Good.
She's… done for today.
After that, she doesn't move. She doesn't think. Light shifts. The day passes. And she just… stares. Until she can't keep her eyes open. Her awareness fades, and as sleep drags her down into the depths she wonders… If this time will be the one her luck runs out. If this time…
She'll dream.
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She's in Sam's room when it happens. Waiting for Bobby to call. Waiting to hear that when she's gone… everything will still be okay. But she should have known it's…
Nothing but a pipe dream.
"What do you mean you can't find it?" Sam asks with a tense frown. And she stops. Just… stops. Because it can't- It has to be there-
"Exactly what it sounds like. Place's been flooded to high hell; could be anywhere and with all that water…" He sighs and the rest of his words get swept away with it by the static ringing in her ears.
Because she put everything in that lockbox. Her phone, her journals, everything and if- If it's gone then she's…
Stuck here.
She stands, the weight of that knowledge pressing down on her, suffocating her until she can't breathe and she just- she needs-
She needs to get away. She darts past Sam and he says something but it might as well be in another language because she can't- Oh- Oh fuck she feels… Bile rises in her throat, and she barely has time to lock the door before falling on her knees to hurl the food she forced down this morning into the toilet.
Even when there's nothing left, she still feels sick. She pushes back until she's touching the wall and hugs herself, burying her face in her knees.
Because there's so much still coming. So many world-ending events and she just…
Wants it to stop.
But it won't. Because she can't. Because they need her, anything she can remember. Because writing it down will never be enough. And not just Sam and Dean it's… everyone. All those people who would die if- when- Fuck. She pulls back and hits her head against the wall.
How could she die now, knowing how fucked up things are going to get? Knowing the mess she'd be leaving them behind to deal with, knowing…
All of those deaths would be on her.
She can't. If she abandoned them now… She wouldn't be able to forget. Alive, dead… No matter what she does, she's stuck like this.
Forever.
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Weeks pass. Bobby goes, and they move from one motel to another. She stays alive. Makes her body function. Talks when she has to. And every day… she thinks about what it would be like for this to end. How peaceful it would be. And every day… she doesn't. Because a few seconds of peace isn't worth the damage she would cause. It's just not in the cards.
Not for her.
Eventually… Sam figures her out. He starts hiding things. The weapons… pills… ropes… She doesn't bother telling him there's no point. That she's stuck here. Because he'd just want to talk about it and that…
That's something she never wants to do.
✦𖤍✦
She wakes up in pitch darkness, shaking and gasping for air. Her vision starts to spot when she doesn't get enough and- and she knows she should stop because he didn't give her water this time, and she's already so thirsty but she- she can't-
Something moves in the corner of her eye. She jumps back, almost falling off the side of what she's sitting on before she realizes who it is and- She's on a bed. Not- Not in that pit. Not…
Not with him.
The line flares up. It's distant, barely there, like the last time when she was-
'Nightmare?'
She swallows around her dry throat and nods erratically, still shaking and breathing hard, even if she shouldn't- Because she knows he's dead. That he- That it wasn't real but she can't- She CAN'T-
'Need help?'
Her head jerks up to him.
'Are you- How-'
He shrugs, nothing more than a vague shape in the darkness, then sits on the other side of the bed.
'Drop in the bucket. Like I said.'
She watches him for a second before she swallows and crawls closer to sit across from him. Then she reaches out in the dark to grab his hand.
Because anything is better than this.
At first, nothing happens. Then a very familiar peace washes over her, through her, and she gasps, eyes slipping closed and- And she's felt it so many times before but this time's not the same. This time… he's not doing it to mend broken bones and flayed skin. This time, it's not followed by the promise of more pain. It's… it's- She feels-
She feels. Even if it's just for those few seconds. And when it fades, when she opens her eyes… It hits her like it's the first time that she'll never be the same. That she will never be okay. Or happy or… any of it.
For the rest of her life.
That's when the dam breaks, and for the first time in months… she cries. She's- She can't help it. She can't stop it. Not now and- and she- She can feel him start to pull away from her. A choked sob bursts from her chest and before she knows what she's doing, she grips his hand and holds on tight. She needs…
She needs him. Because he's the only one who understands. He's the only one who's seen her at her most broken and vulnerable and she can't-
She can't handle this alone.
'Please don't- Stay.' She begs as more tears stream down her cheeks. She can feel him staring at her even in the dark but… He does. Even when she's done crying, he doesn't let go. And eventually… sleep pulls on her again. She lies on her side, resting her head at the foot of the bed and... maybe it's because she's still holding his hand, or maybe she's just tired after all that crying but… for the first time since she got out she feels…
Safe.