EXT. CABIN IN MIDDLE OF ACTUAL NOWHERE – AFTERNOON
We hear what sounds like a dog drinking water. A woman lets out a comfortable and happy whimper.
INT. BEDROOM
Them both completely naked, we interrupt Dean indulging himself between Daveneigh’s legs, which rest on his shoulders. The window is wide open. Dean has his hands locked on her thighs, so she isn’t tempted to kick around when the time comes. She’s his, so she won’t finish unless he specifically commands it.
We then see Dean shaking his head, causing his tongue to shake sideways, which sparks a reaction from her. The horizontal vibration stops as he starts swirling his tongue around her clit.
DAVENEIGH (Sobs.) Yes, yes, yes! Right there, baby!
This takes a toll on Dean’s tongue muscle, so he pauses for two seconds to catch his breath, releasing his grip on her knees. During this brief respite, he shifts to a more ergonomic position and starts up again, only this time, he rubs his tongue against just one wall of her labia–the side he’s learned is most effective.
Choosing this side over the other proves accurate when she lets out a constant wailing of excitement. Fueled by this, Dean holds onto her even tighter to make sure she doesn’t squirm around and he doesn’t lose his place. She reactively jolts her hip away from him, but he’s too strong to let her get away that easily. He then starts breathing more heavily as the “lapping” sound becomes more prominent.
DAVENEIGH Don’t stop, Daddy!
Dean lets out an exhausted groan, but powers through. Daveneigh starts to mutter.
This is Dean’s cue to stop. He steps back, but not before repeatedly slapping her clit a few times to tease her. He bites his bottom lip and smiles cunningly at her.
DEAN Yeah, you like that, Baby Girl?
He then crawls on top of her and kisses her lips.
DEAN (CONT’D) (Whispers.) You like how you taste?
DAVENEIGH (Whispers.) I do.
DEAN Yeah?
Dean sets his dick up against Daveneigh’s entrance, but deliberately does not penetrate her yet. Instead, he grinds up against her, teasing her with the motions.
DEAN You want Daddy’s cock inside you now? Hmm?
DAVENEIGH Yes, please.
DEAN Daddy won’t give it to you that easy…
DAVENEIGH (Frustratedly.) Please?
DEAN You gotta earn it. Beg for it.
DAVENEIGH (Whining.) Please, Daddy.
DEAN Beg.
Daveneigh gives out what sounds like a sniffle.
DAVENEIGH But I already am. I’m begging you, Daddy. Please…
DEAN Ask Daddy nicely, Baby Girl.
DAVENEIGH Daddy…will you please…fuck me…with that huge…hard…cock?
Dean kisses her aggressively and grants her her wish. Daveneigh bends her knees, and opens up her legs, welcoming Dean inside her vaginal cavity. As if surprised by how big it truly is, she releases a howl.
DEAN You’re so tight. Fuck, that’s hot.
DAVENEIGH Dean, you’re so deep.
DEAN Yeah? Want me even deeper?
Daveneigh and Dean look at each other mischievously. Dean takes that as a yes, but takes himself out of her.
DEAN Flip around.
DAVENEIGH Yes, Daddy.
With Daveneigh now on her front, Dean inserts himself back inside her. After resting his entire body against hers, so they’d face the same way, he interlocks his fingers with hers. As she also tightens her grip on the sheets, trembling with mounting pleasure, he heaves his entire pelvis into hers at a convulsive tempo. The surprising speed causes Daveneigh to let out a long squeal, whose pitch broke every time Dean pounded her practically through the mattress.
After a couple more minutes working in this position, there was no turning back now; and they weren’t going to stop themselves either. Knowing what was to come was motivation enough to force their way through the aching muscles.
Suddenly, complete silence from both of their throats as they stop breathing, focused primarily on the best orgasm they could’ve ever anticipated. The only sound was emitted from the squeaky bed and the squishing from their genitals rubbing against each other. For a second, Dean impatiently goes even faster until…
Something powerful swarms inside both of them. And then, they’re free. Released.
Once he’s finished, Dean takes back his dick and lands on his side of the bed. Both of them are panting as if they’d run a marathon and crossed the literal finish line.
DEAN That took…everything outta me. I don’t think I’ll be able to recuperate from this.
They both chuckle and cuddle. They look in to each other’s eyes and then share a meaningful kiss.
DAVENEIGH I love you, Dean.
DEAN You too, sweetheart. And I’m glad we decided to do this.
DAVENEIGH What, fuck in a house where nobody’s around for miles?
DEAN No, I mean, that too, but all this…is ours. I never thought I’d ever have that.
DAVENEIGH Barf. You’re getting into some serious “chick flick” territory…
DEAN (Smiles sheepishly.) I’m not proud of it…but I’m glad you convinced me to make the right choice. Staying here with you…this is where we belong, not out on the road, putting our lives on the line everyday.
DAVENEIGH Agreed.
They’re about to kiss again when suddenly the sound of something dropping comes from downstairs. A light switches as if they’re back in Hunter mode. Dean wraps a towel around his waist while Daveneigh slips into a robe. Nudity? Check. Firearm? She takes a handgun and checks its holster. Check.
As a team, they sneak downstairs to greet their intruder. They case the entire first floor and when all seems to be clear, we fixate on Dean, who gets tackled by someone as hefty as he. They fumble around the floor a bit, Dean throwing punches, but the burglar shielding his face with his arms. Daveneigh is ready to pull the trigger until she notices who it is.
We moved into this house in Northern California about a decade ago and I have just now been told that there’s been some suspicious activity in our attic. For one, I didn’t even know we had an attic, mainly because the entrance to it is in my parents’ closet. My parents’ closet, whose lights evidently flicker—although, to be fair, it’s one of those automatic switches that turns on whenever it senses your presence. I don’t know much about electricity, but it probably has something to do with that feature.
My older sister has been staying with us for the past week, along with her newborn son, since her backyard is being remodeled. Just this morning, she told me that she’s been hearing noises above her room, like someone in the attic—which she also never knew we had, until she’d asked—was repeatedly dropping something. She’s a doctor, so I’d like to think she’s smart enough to recognize the creaks that a house makes when settling, so we can rule that out.
I feel like the culprit seems pretty clear: the attic is haunted.
You may think I’m joking, and that most likely someone has been squatting in our attic like “The Woman in the House Across the Street from the Girl in the Window” on Netflix—oh yeah, spoilers if you haven’t seen that by now. But my mom has cameras both in the exterior of the house and in the main rooms on the first floor, and these cameras send her an alert whenever a bird flies into view.
Also, for what it’s worth, my science-educated sister, who has professed her skepticism of the supernatural on multiple occasions (but is still open-minded to it, if that makes sense) believes it could be a ghost; although she could have just been sarcastic when she said it. I think, in her mind, there was a reasonable explanation for the noise, and while she couldn’t come up with one herself, jumping to the paranormal off the bat wasn’t a logical step, with which I can’t argue.
Shhhhit…I thought as I rested in a supine position on my bed. My eyes wouldn’t shut, especially as the ticking of the clock seemed louder than usual. With a wave of my hand, I muted that noisy piece of glass. Ahh, finally some peace and quiet…which didn’t help my insomnia. The tapping of the clock wasn’t the primary issue, after all; I made the mistake of having caffeine too late in the day, and not making use of a couple diphenhydramine when I realized it was midnight and it was already too late to take. Well, folks, it turns out when it comes to a sleeping aid, better late than staying up all night. You’d think some Gen Z Witch could’ve figured out a spell for that.
I had other things on my mind, which didn’t help. My brain was too active to settle in to a restful night. There was a mission to be accomplished first, but my brothers, soulmate, and I always seemed to find some last-minute luck even when there were no guarantees of a possible win. Personally, I was banking on that luck this time, despite our previous fortunate events being totally scripted by God, this dickwad named Chuck, who didn’t seem to realize his characters were actual people.
God. Nobody can top God. He was literally writing our entire stories, so how the hell were we supposed to break free if he controlled our every thought and move, therefore anticipating our next step? It doesn’t make a lick of sense, but I have to believe that whatever power goes above God, which there had to be–a cosmic being with the capability of managing Him; it has to be watching our backs more than He does.
I have to believe that we can win this, because Chuck has a bad heart. His powers, he used for his own selfish gain, so it’s up to us Winchesters to save the world. Again.
However we do that, if we make it out victoriously, Jack and I need a plan. What do we do when Chuck loses his power as God? Well, there had to be a new God, right? A more righteous and benevolent God. The only person for the job, through my eyes, was Jack. His pure innocence may have initially come from his naïve youth, but he’s the man now who can see Good vs. Evil–Light and Darkness.
I heard a clanging from the Kitchen, so I figured it was my other half; the Nephilim whose name I threw into the ring as Chuck’s obvious successor, speak of the Devil’s child. I put on my robe and slippers and stepped outside. I heard the flip-flop of my own footsteps as I approached Jack, who was having himself a midnight snack: Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
He looked wide-eyed at me, mouth just as big as the spoonful of cereal had just met the inside of his mouth. He knew I’d be at his throat about how sugary those kinds of cereals are, but not tonight. With whatever happens in the next couple days, he deserved a treat.
I kissed his head and took a seat in front of him.
“You’re not mad?” Jack asked, with his mouth so full he reminded me of my eldest brother, Dean, who had a tendency to eat whatever was in his sight even while we were working. He had a nice “ooh, don’t mind if I do” mentality when people offered him free samples. I guess Jack did adopt some parts of Sam, Dean and even Cass (may he rest in peace), an Angel who was also married to Dean (in my eyes, anyway).
“How could I be?” I replied. “I love you.”
Jack smiled and said, “I love you, too, Heather.”
“So, um…we need to talk.”
Jack’s grin faded. I could tell he was nervous, so I agreed to lock souls with him; something only he and I could share with each other. He sat next to me, sighed, and said, “Do you trust me?”
“I do.” It was fitting how each time we had to do this, we needed permission and had to confirm with words you’d say when you exchange vows. In a sense, this was similar to a wedding, or rather a verbal yes to a consensual sexual encounter. “Do you trust me?”
“I do.”
With that, we placed both hands on the back of each other’s heads and made eye contact as if pulling the other in for a kiss. I saw his eyes light up and felt a surge of energy between us. For a moment, I’d forgotten to breathe, but once my brain processed what was happening, I eventually managed to convince my lungs to fill up. Images flashed before us; visuals we both saw like sharing a pair of earbuds to listen to the same song.
Chuck gone, his body disintegrated. The world in absolute chaos without biblical order. Jack putting up on hand and placing it over an invisible barrier, bringing some peace as the energy spreads throughout the globe. Physically, the atmosphere does not change, but the people of Earth stand still and look around as if saying, “What the hell has gone into us?”
Jack then looks at me and says, “It is finished.”
Then, our bodies became glowing, white orbs of light, which ascended into Heaven. We hadn’t died; started new life in our new Kingdom. We held hands and smiled; the world was ours to rule, and we would neither waste nor abuse that power. With the right person sitting on that throne, everything was right with the world.
When we woke up, he walked away, and just when I thought he was leaving the room…
“You know exactly what. We need a plan for when this is all over. If we come out of this alive–“
“Yeah, that’s a pretty big if, don’t you think?”
“Chuck can’t win. He won’t. So we need a plan to take over so he never sits on that throne again. He’s not fit to be God…but you are. I can see it; we both did.”
He sat back down in his original seat and thought long and hard, hands clasped together. It was almost as if he were in prayer mode (ironically). I took both his hands and continued, “Jack…the People need you. This entire Universe needs you. Only you can fill Chuck’s shoes and do truly Great work.”
“It’s a big step. I’m not sure I’m even ready.”
I stood up, so my lips could reach his over the table and challenged, “Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t believe me.”
After a beat of uncertainty, Jack cracked a smile. I let out a chuckle in response and asked, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jack replied. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
We shared another kiss, but then he continued, “But Sam and Dean aren’t going to be happy about it.”
“Of course not…” I really started to miss my brothers in that moment. “But you’re the true God, I really believe that in my heart, and I’m not moving on from this without you. I won’t do it.”
It was done. Mission was accomplished. World at peace again (or, at the very least, back to normal, whatever that meant). Jack had absorbed all of Chuck’s powers and then some. I saw the way he glowed once he undid everything that Chuck had done. Just as we’d seen it in our shared vision, with a tap of his palm, there was life again.
I felt finality and dreaded breaking it to Sam and Dean. Growing up, it was always the three of us: against Dad, Yellow Eyes, the Apocalypse…Dick. I couldn’t picture life without them, but I couldn’t fathom not being with my soulmate for the rest of eternity. That’s why there was no question when I decided I’d go with him.
Sam asked, “You gonna come back with us to the Bunker?”
I snapped out of my daze, as if triggered by the knowledge that Sam’s suggestion for Jack return to the Bunker with them would not come to be.
“What do you mean? Of course he’s gonna come back to the Bunker.” Dean was a little too confident. “He’s the man with the plan! He’s top dog! He can do whatever he wants now. Come on!” He tried leading Jack to the car, but nobody else made a step toward Baby. While Dean still had his back turned, rambling on about decking out Jack’s room with a big-screen TV, Jack and I looked sadly at each other.
Sam noticed our interaction.
“Dean, I’m not coming back home.” Both Winchester boys looked at him, puzzled by the sudden twist in their plans. “In a way…I’m already there.”
“Where?” Dean asked impatiently.
“Everywhere.”
“So you are…Him.” Sam stated.
Jack stole a glance at me as if thanking me, and then turned his attention back to Sam and Dean. He explained, “I’m me…but I know what you mean.” The omnipresence, omniscience of the new God, Jack Kline, everybody.
“What if we want to see you?” Sam asked. “You know, or have a beer or whatever?”
“I’m around,” Jack reassured him. “I’ll be in every drop of falling rain, every speck of dust that the wind blows, and in the sand, and in the rocks, and the sea.”
Dean was defensive; almost as angry as he had with the last guy before he went all Big Bad on us. Sam tried to get him to calm down. “It’s a helluva time to bail. You got a lot of people counting on you, people with questions. They’re gonna need answers.”
“And those answers will be in each of them.” Jack didn’t let Dean’s short temper intimidate him any longer. Why would he feel threatened now? He knows and sees all. “Maybe not today, but…someday.”
Jack took a moment to see what everyone else’s normal lives looked like. It looked like people walking down the street to meet up with friends. It looked like a vintage car parked at an autoshop for the employees to repair its engine. It looked like a young couple trying to figure out what their newborn was crying over, whether it was food, a dirty diaper, or simply love.
“People don’t need to pray to me or to sacrifice to me,” Jack continued. “They just need to know that I’m already a part of them and to…trust in that. I won’t be hands on. Chuck put himself in the story. That was his mistake. But I learned from both of you…and my mother…and Castiel that when people have to be their best, they can be. And that’s what to believe in. Well…I’m really as close as this.”
Sam then interjected Jack’s big goodbye, “Wait, what about Heather?”
I shut my eyes and sighed. The moment of truth. I stepped forward, stood by Jack’s side, and held his hand. I said, “He doesn’t go anywhere without me.”
“Both of you?” Sam asked.
“It’s something we’ve been talking about for a while. This is what’s next for us. Jack is going to be the next God and I’ll be there with him.” Sam and Dean looked dejectedly at the pavement in front of them, so I continued, “Guys, it’s not like like I’m dying. I’m just…going to a better place.” I saw Dean literally roll his eyes. “Ok, so that still sounds like I’m dying, but you know what I mean. My place is in Heaven now. Just think of me as the doting wife trying to follow her husband to wherever his work has relocated him to…it’s just really far away. That’s all this is, guys.”
Dean looked right at Jack and said, “You take care of her, alright?”
Jack placed a hand over his heart in assurance of keeping his word. He then put his hand up once more to say goodbye to my big brothers.
I couldn’t just leave it at that with the two boys who practically raised me. My hand slipped out of Jack’s as I swung my arms around Sam, who muttered into my ear, “Take care of yourselves, okay?”
“You too,” I replied.
When it was Dean’s turn, I kissed his cheek and held him too. He didn’t seem to have any parting words for me–probably was afraid that if he said a word, we’d hear the sadness in his voice.
“Don’t do anything stupid, y’hear?” I advised him. “I don’t want to see you that soon.”
“Impossible,” Dean replied curtly.
“I know, you’re a Winchester. Doing stupid things is in your blood.”
“Hey, you’re a Winchester too. Don’t you forget that.”
“Never.”
I smirked at him and then rejoined my soulmate. Jack asked me, “Ready?”
“When you are.”
We walked away, hand-in-hand. With a deep inhale, I felt our bodies fading to pure light as we traveled upwards. In seconds, we found ourselves in front of our thrones in a completely white room.
White.
Pure.
Light.
The throne hall was exactly as we saw it in our vision. Only…instead of one chair, there were two: one larger and one slightly smaller in size.
“I…don’t understand, Jack.”
Jack smirked excitedly and led me to them. I automatically assumed the smaller one was for me, but instead, he sat in that one and invited me to sit in the grand throne. I was hesitant. Was this some sort of trick? Like a Carrie situation where that particular spot is where the bucket of pig’s blood was supposed to spill all over me? (It was Heaven, so maybe not to that extent, but like a hazing situation.)
But I trusted Jack and he trusted me. So I took my seat.
“What is this?”
“You were right,” explained Jack. “I’m ready to take over for Chuck as God. But not without you. I want you to take the job.”
“Jack, I’m not–“
“You are. I’ll need help doing this, or rather…you’ll need help…and I’ll be right with you with whatever you need.”
I got flustered and a little anxious when I responded, “I don’t think that’s how that works, I mean, this can’t be legal.” I was looking for a way out of a responsibility I never planned on.
“Why not?” Jack said. “If I’m the next God, then I can bestow partial power unto you.”
“This is crazy…”
“But isn’t this what’s next for us?”
This was something I personally wanted ever since I met Jack, but never shared with anyone, not even him. Perhaps I didn’t need to utter a word of this, even if he weren’t the next God…he was my soulmate. I didn’t have to divulge anything he already knew.
“So what do you say? Let’s rule this place together, Supreme Leader?”
I can tell Jack was trying to be charming with the title, but no. Just…no.
“Lord, that is not what I want to be called.”
Jack laughed and asked, “Then whatever you want.”
“Madam God.”
“Ok…Madam God.”
A few days after Jack and I had settled into our literal forever home, we had yet to break in the new bed. After trying out the missionary position–which reminds me, we were getting rid of missionary work altogether, so no more “Ding-dong! Hello! My name is Elder Price!”–Jack sat up and we started making out, the prickly half of his face making the area around my lips all red.
I used my legs to do a little pelvic tilt, so I could direct Jack on where he was supposed to go. Once he found the right spot, I rested my pelvis, and feeling him inside me, reaching that special spot caused me to whimper of excitement. For a few seconds, our bodies sped up, but then we slowed down when we decided to look each other and appreciate this moment; this feeling. This knowledge that we were in love and weren’t going anywhere.
We did a version of our locking soul thing where I felt him ask me, through my thoughts, You ok? To which I nodded and hungrily kissed him.
Because of our intensified breathing, we felt our dance making a grand crescendo of pleasure. After each and every inhale, I heard myself moan. I wasn’t paying attention to Jack’s response, since the tremble in my body spread to my quivering thigh muscles.
This was happening. The familiar excitement that builds up with more and more pressure told me the explosive finish would be soon. So I kept repeating his name and told him not to stop, to which Jack affirmatively replied.
But then, just as I was about to reach the peak, another feeling hit me. Something unrelated to the wet satisfaction I wanted to experience.
“Jack, stop for a sec,” I ordered him.
He obeyed, but didn’t pull out. He asked, “Why, am I hurting you?”
“No, not that. I just…”
I slowly freed him from my grasp and got dressed. Something wasn’t right, and I was going to find out why.
“What just happened?”
“You don’t feel that?”
“Feel what? Stop–just talk to me, Heather!”
“Someone’s here. I don’t know who, but I just have a bad feeling about this.” I stormed out of our room and, after hearing him plopping his back onto the bed in defeat, heard him say through our personal “Angel Radio”, “It couldn’t have waited just a couple more minutes?”
I remember one of Sam’s favorite cereals on Earth, as we were growing up, had a bird with a colorful nose as its mascot. Oddly enough, I think his name was Toucan Sam. His catchphrase was, “Follow your nose wherever it goes”, since I guess his sense of smell was his radar for where the cereal gold mine was. Hey, Toucan Sam here, and I’m following my nose to wherever this new presence is, who was apparently known to me on Earth.
“Hello?” I called out. “I already know you’re here, so you may as well come out. I won’t hurt you; I just want to know who you are.”
“Heather?”
I’d only heard that voice a few days ago. How in the hell–
I saw Dean look as if he’d seen a ghost.
“You son of a bitch…” I said. “You did something stupid, didn’t you?”
Dean teared up as he thought about his final moments. He explained, “It was just rotten luck. Chuck wasn’t there to write us out of it.”
“Sam?”
“He’s okay. He’s still alive.”
“How did it happen for you?” I cautiously asked.
Dean smirked and threw both arms out into a shrug. He said, “How else?”
When I saw his arms wide open, I attacked him with a hug. He placed a hand on my head and kissed it. He asked, “How’s it goin’, kid?”
“It’s ok, Dean. It’s all over. No more Monsters. You can retire in peace.”
Dean couldn’t stop hearing his voice in his head as his dad continued on driving. He knew he had to get it out of his system, but didn’t have the balls to say the words he’d been rehearsing up until this point. They were on their way back to Sammy, who expected an answer from Dean about what Dad said.
“Ahem,” choked Dean.
John glanced at the passenger next to him. He had a sense that Dean was eager to say something. John wouldn’t bring it up though; if Dean had something to say, he’d be man enough to say it. Instead, Dean looked out his window, trying to avoid attention from his father, to which John scoffed and shook his head.
The ambience in the car was heavy and awkward. Misplaced, it felt like. Dean! shouted Sammy’s voice in his head. Did you ask Dad yet? Huh? You’re my big brother! I’m counting on you! Dean frustratedly groaned and finally uttered, “Dad, can we talk?”
There’s my boy…thought John as he audibly responded, “What’s wrong, son?”
“How serious are you about making us Hunt the rest of our lives?” asked Dean. When he realized how that sounded, he shut his eyes, disgusted with himself. He regretted not going over the question again in his head at least once, just to get the wording right.
Surprisingly, John didn’t sound mad, and if he was, he was the silent kind of mad; the type of anger that was scary because the extent of how upset he was could’ve reached any length. You’d think you could get a sense of how angry a person could be based on how loud their voice gets, but tone is how you understand the intensity, not volume. Right now, John seemed more focused on the road and keeping the speed at five miles above the limit.
“Why do you ask, Dean?” he responded.
Dean thought, Ok…so far so good…he’s not cussing at me as usual, so that’s something…
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and…”
John didn’t have time for his son to pussy out on him. He said, “Just spit it out, Dean.” Again, while the order wasn’t loud in decibel, but explosive in intensity.
“I want to go to college, Dad,” Dean blurted out. “I’ve been working on getting my GED and I think I can get into community college and make something of myself.”
A chuckle came from the driver’s seat. John wasn’t amused per se, but baffled. He asked, “I expected this shit to come out of Sam’s mouth, but you?”
“I’m serious, Dad.”
“Who’s gonna pay for college? Nono, let’s not get that far ahead of ourselves: who’s gonna pay for the fuckin’ GED, little man? Hm? Me? You? How sure are you that you’ll even get into college? Even with the GED, it takes more than that for colleges to be impressed by you. What have you done for them to even consider accepting you when the only prerequisites you have is you went to high school?”
“Yeah, and whose fault is that, Dad? Because it ain’t mine!” Dean loved Sam and would’ve done anything to make him happy, but he was starting to regret volunteering to be his lab rat. If Dad was this hard on him, he couldn’t even imagine how much harder Dad would’ve been on Sam. When he remembered he was doing this to get Sam what he wanted, he quietly tried again. “Dad, if you could please just listen to me for one minute, then maybe I could tell you what my plan is. After that, you can say whatever you want.”
“No, Dean.”
Just like that, an abrupt silence filled the air again. After a beat, Dean asked more quietly, “So that’s it? ‘No, Dean’? Even if I have a solid, clear-cut plan, you won’t hear a word of it?”
“We’re Hunters,” John explicated. “With the sheer amount of Monsters out there…we’ve got a lot of work to do, Dean. If you want to spend the rest of your life going to frat parties and sleeping around…well then, maybe you’re not my son after all.”
As he said the most hurtful thing he’s ever told Dean–which is already saying a lot, looking back at how Sam and Dean were raised–John made sure to maintain a soldier’s eye contact with Dean. Everything this Marine has ever said was sure as shit, because that’s how John still saw himself: as a no-bullshit soldier, who vowed to protect his country, ’tis of thee.
The official US Marine Corps slogan was “Semper Fidelis”, which means “Always Faithful”. John had no intentions of breaking that promise, and he’d be damned if his sons threatened to stray away from fighting that soldier’s fight.
Semper Fidelis, motherfuckers, John thought. And I’m gonna take down every last one of you sons of bitches if it’s the last thing I do...
“So…” continued John. “You wanna try this conversation again?”
“No, sir.” Dean was thankful it was dark, so John wouldn’t be able to see his tears. Instead, his challenge was to prevent John from hearing him fight them back. “I’m sorry, sir.”
This is going to sound ridiculous, because I know you won’t read this. We burned your body, so there’s no reason why you’d be around, but I need to get this out of my system. For me.
Ever since I heard what happened to you, there have been no words. I can’t properly express this feeling of emptiness in my chest, yet it feels so heavy I could hardly get up in the morning. I’m so used to texting you, “Good morning” and “Have a great day” that I have to stop and think, Will she even read this?
All my life, my worst fear was losing Dean, and what I’d do if he died before me, but I never considered how I’d feel if it were you. I suppose I always thought you were invincible; nothing could ever happen to you, because you’d just bounce back. You were a hero to me. Nobody told you what to do, not even Dean or Dad. You always did your own thing, which inspired me to do the same. I went to college because of you. I knew how it felt to be committed to someone else, and want to build a life with her because of you.
The other Hunters and I, we all honored you tonight. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, but Dean got to say a few words. What stuck most with me was, “Man, the balls she had on her; if she wanted something to happen, nothing was going to stop her from making it happen. There was nothing she couldn’t handle. She could handle a machete. She could handle a vampire. She could handle our old man. That girl was a fighter, and she fought till the very end.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.
What Dean said, though…that reminded me of the time I wanted you to take me to the carnival. Dad wouldn’t let us go, but you stuck to your guns. You actually told Dad to go fuck himself and then dragged me out the door until you realized we didn’t have a ride to the park. Still, you convinced him to drive us, and it was one of the best nights of my entire childhood. If Dad weren’t so frightened of you, he wouldn’t have grabbed his keys.
I know what you and Dean had was special, especially after everything you guys have been through. Which is why I can’t go to him about this; however much loss I’m feeling right now doesn’t compare to his pain. But I love you. I miss my big sis.
I don’t know if you have any control over this, but please don’t hesitate to come to me, either in invisible spirit or in a dream. If I don’t ever see you again…
Well, let’s just say I hate being reminded that I don’t live in the same plane as you anymore. I know that sounds alarming, but at this moment in time, that’s just the way I feel. I know it’ll get better over time, but I still miss you.
We open to a teen couple held against their will. The Wicked Witch of the West has taken them captive with plans on cooking them alive. They’ve already seen their fellow prisoners get hoisted away and heard the muffled screaming and pleading of terror from upstairs. Oddly enough, teen DEAN and NIC don’t seem as panicked as any normal teenagers would be.
TN: So what’s your plan outta this one, Dean?
TD: Just gimme a minute, I’ll figure something out. Trust me.
TN: Oh, yeah. Trust you, because it’s worked out so well.
TD: Gimme a little credit, at least.
TN: For what? Getting us into this mother-frisking mess?
TD: Oh, my God, again, with the “mother-frisking”? You can say “fuck”, ya know. Nobody’s gonna lock you in jail for cussing.
TN: Of course not! They’ve already locked me up for being an appetizing kid.
TD: It’s not even easier to say! I mean, c’mon. “Frisking”? At least make it shorter. Just admit it: you learned it from that pretentious werewolf when we were on that case in Maine, and ever since then, you’ve been saying it just to get on my nerves about him.
TN: (Smirks.) Well, can’t say it doesn’t work then, huh?
TD: Alright enough! We’re not gonna get out of here by fighting.
TN: How do we get outta here?
TD: Hang on, I’m still thinkin’. (Looks around for a beat and then his eye catches something.) No way…it can’t be that easy.
TN: What?
CUT TO:
Way in the dingy corner, we see a few hair pins, lying helplessly on the cold, cement ground.
TD: Think you could pick that lock?
TN: I don’t know how to do it from the other side…
TD: But can you do it?
TN: I’d have to guess, but–
TD: Then that’s enough for me.
TN: (Sighs and approaches the corner to pick up her makeshift lock picking tools.) Guess it can’t hurt to try.
TD: (Proudly.) That’s my girl.
Nic kneels down and shuts her eyes, ears glued to the lock so she can take a closer listen to the gears within it.
TD (CONT’D): (Muttering.) Anything?
TN: Yeah, I just heard an obnoxious whisper, saying, “Anything?” Shut up!
TD: Ok! Ok…
After a few more beats, she gasps.
TN: I can’t believe it!
TD: It worked?
TN: Dean, come here! Look!
Dean makes his way to her side of their prison cell. When he sees what she’s pointing at, it’s a woman in an annoyingly pink ball gown.
TD: Whoa…she’s hot.
TN: Really? Right in front of your girlfriend?
Dean chuckles, growing red in the face.
Galinda: Greetings, children!
TN: Glinda the Good Witch?
Galinda: (Annoyed, as if it never stops.) It’s GA-linda. With a GA. (Rolls her eyes.) Anyhoo…I apologize for my colleague. She’s been acting out ever since she found out her father was “The Wizard of Oz”, and it wasn’t very positive news, so she’s been binge-eating children, as a way of retaliation for having more…traditional roots.
TN: Then we probably weren’t the best option…
Galinda: She told me she kidnapped some kids again, and I convinced her to finally go to therapy, so all good! We don’t need you to remember this, so if you just stay still, you won’t remember a thing and I’ll send you on your way home! (Raises her wand, prepared to wave it.)
TD: Wait, you don’t need to do that. We’re Hunters. We already know everything about the supernatural, and it’s not like we’re gonna tell regular people about this.
Galinda: (Disappointed.) Oh…well then. How did you get yourselves in this mess if you’re Hunters?
TN: Yes, Dean. How did we get caught up in this mess?
TD: Undercover work.
Galinda: Here. I’ll just send you on your way then. (Prepares to wave her wand again.)
TN: Wait. Before you do that, can we get back to that memory wiping thing?
TD: What? Why?
TN: I’m so sick of this, Dean.
TD: Of what?
TN: All of it. I want to live a normal life. One where I don’t have to put myself in danger just to kill a friskin’ Witch.
TD: Then what are you saying? You wanna be out there? Where are you gonna go? Your parents are dead! That’s why you’ve been with us this whole time, so you wouldn’t have to be in the system. Screw that, you’re coming with me!
TN: At this point, I’d rather do that than keep Hunting for the rest of my life.
TD: Is this what you really want, Nic? What, you think you’re going to get to live a normal life now? Get married, buy a nice house in the suburbs, white picket fence? Pop out a couple of kids? Sounds nice, but a little hard to get.
TN: I’m just sick of this crap, Dean. I wanna go home.
TD: Then I can’t stop you.
TN: Thank for supporting this.
TD: I didn’t say I did. Just that I can’t stop you.
Nic hugs him. He does his best not to let her see him cry, but fails to hide it. He then puts his lips on hers. Their last kiss.
TN: (To Galinda.) Ok. Do it.
All it takes is a swish of her wand for Galinda’s Memory Spell to fall on Nic. The last thing Nic’s eyes look at is Dean before she finally shuts them, prepared to not recognize him when she does open them again.
When she does, she looks at him, wide-eyed. What does this expression mean? Did it work? Who does she think he is?
TD: Nic?
TN: (She blinks and shakes her head.) Yeah? Where am I?
Galinda: Close your eyes, honey. Tap your heels three times and say, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” Once you wake up, it’ll all be a dream and you’ll be back home.
TN: (Looks almost longingly at Dean and then shuts her eyes again.) There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place…like home.
Dean looks away, stifling his sobs, dreading the next moment, during which…she evaporates.
Galinda: I’ll take you home as well.
TD: No, just take me wherever she ended up.
Galinda: Are you sure?
TD: I need to know she’ll be okay.
Galinda: As you wish; you know what to do.
TD: Really? That “there’s no place like home” crap?
Galinda: Fine, if you don’t wanna play.
A swish of her wand sends Dean to a house not unlike the first one where he lived. He sees Nic in the same outfit as he’d last seen her just seconds ago. She prepares herself and walks up to the house and knocks on the door.
Dean expects Nic to have been turned away, but he witnesses the opposite happening. Instead, we see a man at the door, who breaks down as soon has he sees her. They both share a tearful embrace as the mother then shows up, joining the reunion.
There’s nothing left for Dean when she steps inside the house. She’s been accepted and taken care of…and apparently lying to him regarding her parents’ deaths. He makes the long journey to the nearest bus depot and heads to his dad and kid brother, feeling a gaping hole in his heart where Nic used to be.
FADE OUT.
FADE BACK IN.
INT. HOSPITAL – EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT – TRAUMA ROOM 2
Adult Nic has just successfully revived a new patient using CPR. We find that this is LISA BRAEDEN, who is bleeding profusely from a knife wound. Close to the scene, Adult Dean is seen with his hand on her son BEN’S shoulder. They both fear for Lisa’s life as Dean tries to make his way into the room. Nic pushes him back.
NIC Sir, please stay out there and give us some room to work.
DEAN I have to be in there with her.
DOC We need to wipe off that blood for an abdominal ultrasound stat!
U/S TECH (Quickly scans her spleen and points at an almost completely black screen.) There! Free fluid everywhere in her abdomen.
DOC Alright, we need to get her up to surgery! NOW, people! Let’s MOVE!
The entire medical team then pushes the gurney out the door and towards an elevator. While they do this, Nic sees Dean having an urge to follow them, so she tries to block him off.
NIC Sir, please. An ultrasound confirmed that she’s bleeding internally, which means we have to patch up her spleen.
DEAN If you could just–
NIC Look, you are not helping the situation. Just stay here with your…son, and I’ll give you updates every time I can, okay?
BEN I’m not his son.
NIC (Fast-walks backwards.) I’m sorry.
The world suddenly goes silent as Nic makes her way through the doors, clearly marked in all caps, “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY”. Dean’s current emotional state is a whirlwind of anxiety and confusion.
CUT TO:
INT. HOSP. – WAITING ROOM
Dean and Ben are seated separately. Dean eyes Ben nervously, but doesn’t want to bother him. As messed up as he is about Lisa’s condition, he couldn’t imagine what Ben was going through. Nic enters.
NIC Hey. It was touch-and-go for a while there, but she’s stable. She coded a couple of times on the table, so there’s no telling what condition her brain is in from all that oxygen deprivation. So we’ve put her in a medically induced coma, and all we can do now is give her some time to heal and hope for the best. Ball’s in her court.
DEAN Can we see her?
NIC Well, you can, but I’m not sure if your son is ready to see his mother that way.
BEN I already told you: I’m not his son. It’s just me and my mom. Dean is nothing to us.
NIC (Recognizes the pain in Dean’s face.) If you think you can see your mom right now, then okay, but it’s gonna be a little scary. She’s got all sorts of tubes attached to her body right now. Are you sure you’re ready to see all that?
BEN Take me to her.
NIC Ok. Follow me.
CUT TO:
INT. HOSP. – LISA’S ROOM
As we enter the room, we see Lisa looking as if she is sleeping, except with a tube down her throat. Dean looks worriedly at Ben, and Nic looks the same way at Dean.
BEN (Sits down next to Lisa and holds her hand.) Hi, Mom. It’s Benji. Wake up. Can you wake up for me? Please?
For a while, everything seems quiet until Nic’s pager goes off. Everyone jumps at the sudden alarm.
NIC Mother-frisker.
DEAN (Triggered.) What did you say?
NIC I’m sorry, I gotta go. Another patient is coding.
DEAN Wait–
Nic makes a quick exit, leaving Dean stunned.
CUT TO:
INT. HOSP. – LISA’S ROOM
Mere hours after our last encounter, Lisa is all of a sudden extubated and is just…napping. Ben is not as devastated as he was just earlier. Dean stands at the doorway, trying to keep his cool during this unusual situation. Nic then enters, checking her vitals.
NIC Hey, Ben. How’s it going in here?
BEN Doc says she’ll be awake soon.
NIC (With an encouraging smile.) I’ll bet that was good to hear, huh?
BEN Yeah. (Nods to Dean.) Thanks to this guy, we got her to the hospital just in the nick of time. Right, Dean?
DEAN Right. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? The car accident was my fault.
Nic and Dean give each other a look.
NIC (Takes out a $20 bill and offers it to the kid.) Hey, Ben, why don’t you grab some lunch down in the cafeteria? On me. It’s sloppy joe day.
BEN Alright, thanks. You’ll let me know if my mom wakes up?
NIC Sure thing, kid.
Ben exits.
NIC (To Dean.) Step into the bathroom.
DEAN Huh?
NIC We can’t talk out here. There’s a camera directed at each patient. Go to the bathroom and I’ll sneak in. I know its blind spots.
Dean obeys. As planned, Nic leaves the room, but then pretends she forgot something in there and sticks to the wall as she then follows Dean into the patient’s restroom.
NIC (CONT’D) Tell me you didn’t make a deal.
DEAN I didn’t.
NIC Oh, really? Because one moment, she’s fighting for her life in a frisking medically induced coma, and just hours later, there’s suddenly no reason to keep her in the hospital? Tell me that’s not the least bit suspicious.
DEAN No, you wanna talk about suspicious, Nic? The fact that last time we saw each other, your memory of our lives together was supposedly completely wiped out, yet here you are as if it didn’t happen, accusing me of making crossroads deals. Oh, and don’t get me started on the “frisking” thing, because you learned that while we were on a case together, which means you should’ve forgotten about that too. Now spill.
NIC Okay, fine. The memory wipe didn’t work.
DEAN So why’d you pretend it did?
NIC I meant what I said. I got sick of Hunting, and needed a fresh start. It was just luck that I got to have it with my own family.
DEAN Speaking of which, I thought your parents had died.
NIC I lied.
DEAN Clearly.
NIC You know how much of a rebel I was. I got kicked out. Hung out with a bad crowd. Then, I witnessed my boyfriend getting killed by Edward Cullen and started Hunting. That’s when I met you and John, and…you know how that went.
DEAN Why’d you say they were dead if they weren’t?
NIC Because at the time, they were dead to me. And I was dead to them, or so I thought… Look, when I knocked on their front door and saw how relieved they were to see me…
DEAN I still don’t get how the spell didn’t work…and why you lied about the spell not working. You didn’t recognize me at all.
NIC I don’t know why it didn’t work, but, Dean, look at me. Look at where I am. If I hadn’t escaped from the life, I wouldn’t be working as a trauma nurse. I still communicate with our Hunter friends, taking them or their victims in to patch them up.
DEAN (Smiles in sarcastic amazement.) You’re the Nurse Nickels they’ve been talking about on Hunter radio.
NIC Not really first place for original, but that’s the name that stuck. (A beat.) I’m doing good things here, Dean. Yeah, you save people, Hunt things…but the only difference between that and what I do is, despite not Hunting, I actually make good money saving them. Can you say the same for what you do? My guess, with all the credit card scams and cheap motel rooms and the fast food diet you’re probably still on…you don’t make bank.
DEAN And that’s all that matters to you? Money? You’re that guy now?
NIC Don’t do that. Don’t make it sound malicious. I’m doing good work here, and I don’t need your validation to prove it.
DEAN (Rolls his eyes and opens the door, done with the conversation.) Alright.
SAM WINCHESTER is seated at his usual spot, books laid out in front of him with a glass of whiskey next to him. All of a sudden, he hears whispering coming from behind him, at the entrance to the library. He knows his wife and eight-year-old son are up to something, and he’s tempted to glance up at them, but he knows whatever cahoots they’re involved in, he’s going to laugh about it.
SADIE Go ahead, Dean!
DJ No, Mom! I’m nervous!
SADIE What is there to be nervous about? It’s just your father! Go!
DJ But–
SADIE Hey, do you want to do this tonight or not?
DJ (Groans.) Yes…
SADIE Then come on. You’re a big boy.
It is too late to turn back. SADIE is stronger than he is, so it’s now or never.
DJ Um…Dad?
SAM Yeah, Dean?
DJ (Looks at his mother for some inspiration, and receives more encouragement. He sets up a projector to face a screen, which has magically appeared, thanks to Sadie. He connects the machine to his laptop, which shows a computer background that is clearly for Sam’s benefit, emoting a “Best Dad Ever” vibe to it. He opens up to a PowerPoint titled, “A BOY’S PLEA for an EPIC HALLOWEEN”.) We need to talk.
SAM (Sits back and relaxes as his family sets up for what he assumes is a little skit.) Uh-oh. Am I in trouble? Are you breaking up with me?
SADIE Before you say anything, this was all Dean’s work. I only did the heavy lifting.
DJ (Starting to feel some momentum.) That’s right. Thank you, Mom.
The presentation starts. DJ clicks a button on his laptop to move the PowerPoint forward.
DJ (CONT’D) Dad…how old am I?
SAM (Puzzled.) Is that a trick question?
DJ That’s right. I’m 8. Do you know when parents usually start taking their kids trick-or-treating? (Sam doesn’t answer.) Wrong. [CLICK.] There IS no minimum age limit. In fact, most GOOD parents take their babies trick-or-treating during their first Halloween. How is it fair that of all my eight years of life, I haven’t had a single experience trick-or-treating? It’s total bullcrap!
SAM (Amused by his choice of bad words.) “Bullcrap”, huh?
SADIE (Clears her throat.) Don’t rant.
DJ Right. Sorry. (Takes a breath and regroups.) That doesn’t seem fair, now does it? [CLICK.] As you can see on this graph, a child’s happiness is directly cor–coronated–corpelat–
SADIE “Correlated”.
DJ –correlated with the opportunity to go from house to house, saying with so much excitement, “TRICK OR TREAT”…[CLICK to a stock image of an ecstatic kid surrounded by a variety of sweets and popular toys.]…only to be rewarded with candy or plastic toys! [CLICK to an image of DJ giving the camera puppy eyes with a cartoon halo above his head.] So what do you say, Dad? Don’t you want me to be happy? Or do you want me to be sad this Halloween. [CLICK to a black screen with tiny white words saying, “End of presentation.”]
SADIE I don’t know, Sammy. He had some pretty hard data.
SAM Yeah, can’t argue with those numbers. Although, I’m still not sure.
SADIE DJ. How do you think we’ll convince Daddy to come over to our side?
DJ (Scrambles over to Sam and gives him a hug and a big kiss on the cheek.) I LOVE YOU, DADDY!!!!
Sam is happy to be right: who wouldn’t laugh of joy at how his kid has genuine potential at being a decent lawyer?
SAM Alright, alright! Let’s go trick-or-treating tonight! How about we call up your friends and they can join us?
SADIE (Squeezes Sam’s arm warningly.) Sam…
Sam and his wife communicate with their eyes, trying to hide it from their son, whose social life still seems to be a struggle, not unlike his father’s.
SAM We can all dress up! (To Sadie.) Right, Mom? You got a costume?
SADIE I do! I’ve got one for all of us, actually!
SAM (Kisses her and then mutters.) You were that sure I’d say yes?
SADIE He takes after you, and anyone who could say no to this face is out of their minds. (She takes his chin in one hand and kisses it.)
SAM Hmm…you did, remember? It took months before I got you to finally accept my proposal.
SADIE I came around.
SAM Yeah, you did. (He plants a big one on her, with tongue and everything.)
DJ Gross…I’m changing into my costume!
SAM (As DJ exits.) Can’t wait to see what it is!
The happy couple takes a moment to themselves to make out a bit.
SADIE I love you.
SAM Love you, too.
SADIE You still working?
SAM No, I’m giving myself the night off.
SADIE Why did you say yes to this?
SAM I promised myself I wouldn’t be like my dad. Growing up the way I did…John was consumed by Hunting. Look, I love the guy, but he wasn’t really Father of the Year. Dean was. Dean wanted to make sure that I stayed a kid as long as possible despite all the shit our family had gone through. Y’know, back when you and I were engaged to be engaged or whatever, and you’d gone into labor after our pretty big fight about finally getting married, I held him in my arms after he was born. You were catching up on some sleep after the labor, and I said to this brand-new human being that we created, “I had a great dad growing up, and I’ve always wanted to be like him. I’ve learned that the biggest part of being a good dad is just showing up and being there. I promise that I won’t let work take over my life. You are my life, Dean. I vow to love and protect you, to teach you how to toss a baseball. And if that’s not your thing, whatever you’re interested in, so am I. I am not my father, but I wanna be the man who raised me…”
SADIE “…so I promise that whoever you turn out to be, you have my full support. I am all in.” (Sam reacts to her finishing his speech for him.) I was pretending to be asleep that day. And I’m glad I was awake for that, because that was the reason why I put that diamond ring on my finger.
Another pretty big kiss. They both start breathing heavily, wanting more. She lets out a croaky moan, but before they’re about to rip each other’s clothes off, she stops, worried that their firstborn might walk in on them.
SADIE (CONT’D) DJ already won over trick-or-treating, I don’t think he’s ready for the birds and bees talk quite yet.
SAM (Smiles nervously.) Right. (Clears his throat.) Um, so what time are we going out tonight?
SADIE It typically starts at, like 4:00? 5:00? And then we can finish early and settle in by his bedtime.
SAM We should probably look through his bag afterwards to make sure there are no open wrappers or razors.
SADIE Wow, paranoid much?
SAM I swear, it’s happened before. We had a case where the vic, who had a sweet tooth, ate several pieces of chocolate and there were razor blades planted in all of them. Magically, of course.
SADIE Witches?
SAM And demons.
SADIE Greaaaat… I love our job. (A beat.) Hey, I’m taking DJ for some last-minute candy shopping. Wanna come with?
SAM Yeah, be right out.
CUT TO:
INT. SUPERMARKET – AFTERNOON
DJ runs inside, causing Sadie to call after him, ordering him to stay in their sight. The adults grab a cart and slowly wander around the store, not really trying to find the aisle of their destination.
SAM It’d be nice to give this to him.
SADIE What?
SAM Halloween. Costumes, trick-or-treating. All of it.
SADIE Dean never did that when you guys were kids?
SAM Any candy we could afford, we had to steal.
SADIE I mean…isn’t that what Halloween is all about? Kids begging for candy, thinking they’re entitled to it just for dressing up and saying three words?
SAM (Chuckles.) Yeah, I know. Um…
SADIE I think we should tell him.
SAM (Joke’s over.) Well, I don’t know about–um…what’re you gonna say exactly?
SADIE I mean, how else do I put it? He was going to be a big brother.
SAM “Was“.
SADIE (Sighs.) “Was”.
SAM Don’t tell him tonight though.
SADIE Right, no. Yeah, definitely not tonight. His first time going trick-or-treating should be memorable in a positive way.
SAM Are you sure you want to tell him? He’s too young to even understand–
SADIE It’s gonna get even harder for us to try to hide what you and I are dealing with. I’m not saying we give him every dirty detail. “He was going to be a big brother, but we lost the baby.”
SAM Yeah, but…(He tries to show he’s still on her side.) Isn’t that like teasing him with the idea?
SADIE He should know.
Again, they communicate with their eyes. Nothing Sam could say would make Sadie back down. Then, DJ rams into his parents, holding a huge toy.
DJ Mom! Dad! Can I, can I, can I?
SAM Whoa, slow down, buddy. Can you what?
DJ Can I get this toy?
SAM (After looking sadly at Sadie, who relents.) Sure thing, bud. Toss it into the cart.
DJ (Joyously.) Yessssss! (He doesn’t listen to his father though; he carries the toy until it needs to be checked out. Meanwhile, as Mom and Dad’s slow walk through the market resumes, Sam kisses Sadie’s head.)
CUT TO:
Just pretend that he is wearing a Hamilton costume.
EXT. SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD – NIGHT
Surrounded by other families with kids of various ages, Sam, Sadie, and DJ, all dressed as Alexander, Eliza, and Phillip Hamilton respectively from the musical “Hamilton”, which was DJ’s favorite musical.
SAM (With a toothy grin, as Sadie fixes up his collar.) If Dean could see us now…
SADIE Uh, he’d realize how awesome this is?
DJ Dad, can I go to the next one on my own?
SADIE Not yet, honey. Just wait a second.
DJ I wanna go!
SADIE Hey, you need to learn patience, Dean.
DJ I’m going! (Sprints towards the nearest front doorstep and joins a flock of older kids.)
SADIE Nonono, Dean! (Panicked, and under her breath: Shit…)
SAM Dean! Stop!
They both drop what they’re doing and run after their kid. Sadie at least tries to, but her costume makes it impossible to move, making her wonder how the hell they ever did it onstage for eight shows a week. Sam picks him up and sets him down away from other families.
SADIE Don’t EVER do that again! Do you realize how scared I was?! You can’t go running off like that, Dean! We told you to wait for us for one second! ONE SECOND! We tell you to wait, you wait, got it?!
SAM If you pull something like this again, you’re done. We’re going home.
Sadie pulls Dean in for a hug, trying not to burst into tears.
SADIE I’m sorry for yelling at you. I just got so worried. Don’t run off like that again, okay? Mommy loves you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.
SAM (Takes a deep breath in an effort to hide his own tears.) So what do you wanna do? We can keep going or…
SADIE Yeah, it’s your call, Dean.
DJ (Sadly.) I’m not really up for it anymore.
SADIE No, don’t feel bad. You’re just a kid. We’re with you. Go ahead and go to that next house. We’ll be right behind you.
DJ You sure?
SADIE Yeah, you go on ahead. Don’t run though. You’ll trip.
DJ Ok. (After a quick hug, he walks toward the closest house.)
SADIE Oh, my God, I can’t believe I just did that.
SAM What else were you supposed to do? He was running off recklessly without us. You did the right thing.
SADIE I can’t stand losing another baby.
SAM (Holds her.) He’s not a baby.
SADIE He could be in an old folks’ home. He is still my baby.
The couple stops in front of the house where their son is obtaining his treats, but keeping their distance. Sam suddenly laughs very audibly.
SADIE (CONT’D) You OK, honey…?
SAM Yeah. I’m more than OK. I’m happy.
SADIE Oh. Then I’m happy you’re happy.
SAM I never had this when I was his age.
SADIE I know. I’m glad we can give this to him too.
We see them watching DJ starting to get hyperactive over Halloween again, even trading a candy he didn’t like to one he favored with the child next to him. The two kids share a smile as if they’ve been compatible best friends since birth.
The ground glistens with fresh rain. From behind a dumpster, we hear uncomfortable groaning and an uneven breathing pattern. Is the creature in pain? Are they in heat? Once we pan to what’s actually happening behind said dumpster, it’s a woman who is sweating, shivering, and looks as if she’s about to vomit. Something’s happening and she can’t control it. But what is “it”? Something she’s been dreading all month.
As STELLA continues to suffer, she gets flashbacks of her childhood, particularly her first childhood friend, DEAN, who moved away after his mother died. Clips of their time together start playing inside her head: two kids running around the playground during recess; another time, finding themselves alone in the playhouse, sharing their first kiss; being partnered up to read parts of Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson.
We return to adult Stella, sobbing in her hand in agony, screaming for Dean to take the pain away. Just as quickly as we snapped into the present, we cut back to a more recent period where they are both adults. They’d just made love, and were having some unusual pillow talk.
DEAN (Whispers intimately.) I can’t just let you go, you know that, right?
STELLA Why? Why do you need to do this? We’re not hurting anybody.
DEAN There’s always a first time, Stell.
STELLA After everything we’ve been through, you’d really put a gun to my head and pull the damn trigger? Without hesitation?
DEAN It’s my job.
STELLA Yeah? Then show me who’s paying you, I’ll shut ’em right up.
DEAN You know it’s not that simple!
STELLA (Sits up and puts her tunic back on.) Oh, bullshit, Dean! You have no valid reason why! Can’t you just let this one go?
They look sadly at each other for a beat. She takes a breath to calm herself down and resets. She takes her spot in bed again and gives him a kiss.
STELLA (CONT’D) I’m just having trouble understanding why. The Monsters you Hunt…they hurt people, or it’s better off in the long run that you take them out now. So why me? Why my family? There’s no good reason why you have to kill us, so tell me, Dean. You owe me that much.
DEAN You think this is easy for me? I’ve spent my entire life ridding this world of Monsters–
STELLA Monsters like me.
DEAN Let me finish. My dad brought me up following a code: that all Monsters are evildoers who’d be willing to kill innocent people for self-preservation. Growing up, that made sense to me. I didn’t care whether or not they did any real damage; if it was supernatural, then it was something I had to kill. No questions. I have to honor that code, Stell.
STELLA Where does it end? You’ve got to draw the line somewhere, Dean. So why not here?
DEAN It’s not that simple–
STELLA It is. I’ve never hurt a soul. Every full moon, when I turn, I lock myself in a cage. It’s fucking hell, but I know it’s worth it if I potentially save a life.
DEAN What if you break out one night? What then?
STELLA That’s never happened.
DEAN There’s always a first time.
Flashback over.
Back in the alleyway, Stella is sitting propped up against a wall with both her hands covering her forehead as if she has a migraine. She tries to maintain an even breathing pattern as we zoom in on her face. As soon as we get a closeup, we hear a man in the distance calling her name and footsteps getting louder as he reaches her.
DEAN Stella? Stell! (Mutters: shit.) C’mon, let’s get you to the Bunker.
STELLA There’s not much time.
DEAN Don’t worry about that, OK? I’ve got you.
Dean helps her get into the backseat of his Chevy Impala and tires squeal as he drives off.
CUT TO:
EXT. COUNTRY ROAD – DAWN
Baby speeds off into the sunrise as the camera pans into a road sign that says, “Welcome to…KANSAS the Sunflower State”.
CUT TO:
INT. BUNKER – MORNING
With one arm safely around Stella’s shoulder, Dean helps her into the Dungeon within the Storage Room. Meanwhile, SAM, CASTIEL, and JACK witness this new guest checking into the Men of Letters Bunker Presidential Suite.
SAM Stella? Wait, Dean!
JACK Who’s Stella?
CASTIEL Dean’s…wife.
JACK He’s married?
SAM It’s a long story. Like a…Witness Protection thing.
Open up in Dean’s perspective as he stirs awake. We hear a woman’s voice moaning while an equally feminine hand rubs the eyes of the person whose POV we’re in. The person then walks into the bathroom and sits down on the toilet. They then glance down at their underwear and see a large blood stain. The eyes then shoot awake as we stare at the perfectly manicured nails as the woman screams.
DINA Ahh!!! What the f–
The lady then puts on her pants and looks into the mirror, where we see a redheaded woman.
DINA (Cont’d) Saaaaam?
(From just around the corner, we see a brunette enter the scene, just as freaked out about the transition.)
DINA (to the visitor) I’m bleeding in my pants! (Recognizes the face.) Ruby?
SAMIRA What? No! I’m not Ruby! I’m still Sam!
DINA Sam???
SAMIRA What the hell? You’re…a woman too?
DINA How does this crap keep happening to us?!
SAMIRA Ok, waitwaitwait, what’s the last thing you remember?
DINA Nothing! I went straight to bed!
SAMIRA You didn’t notice anything different? Didn’t change something in your routine?
DINA Don’t you think I would’ve mentioned it by now???
SAMIRA Ok, ok, let’s not panic.
DINA Sam…we’re both chicks.
SAMIRA But we’re not just any chicks. You’ve turned into Sister Jo, and I’m…Ruby? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?
DINA That’s your issue with this? That we’ve turned into those bitches?
SAMIRA What, you think it was random, us looking like this?
DINA Whatever, how do we turn back into yourselves? I’m starting to feel cramps.
SAMIRA (Puzzled.) “Cramps”?
DINA Yeah, like a stomachache, but…you know the ladies, they’ve got, like, three holes? One for #1, one for #2, and in between, the…fun hole? I think that’s where the blood is coming from.
SAMIRA (Finally gets it.) Oh…OH!!! Um…I mean, do we have anything for that?
DINA How the hell should I know? Could you…go out, and…?
SAMIRA Uh, yeah… I’ll just…go get some…stuff.
DINA (Before Sam can get out of earshot.) Get me some wine, too! And chocolate!
CUT TO:
INT. BUNKER – LIBRARY
The Boys (or rather, Girls, in their current state) are trying to find answers, not only as to how their bodies have switched with Ruby’s and Sister Jo’s, but whether or not that means the actual ladies’ whose meat suits they had borrowed, now look like the real Sam and Dean.
SAMIRA Maybe I should just call up Rowena. See if she can muster up a spell to turn us back.
DINA (Sarcastically.) Yay…we can have a slumber party and braid each other’s hair. (Scoffs.) That’s not what I had in mind when I said I wanted to be surrounded by the ladies.
SAMIRA I don’t know how else we can fix this then, Dean.
DINA Fine! Call up the Witch and see if she can help. (Slams her laptop shut and then walks into the kitchen.)
While looking for something to eat in the fridge, Dina then feels something weird from her crotch. At first, it’s pain, but we see in her face it’s more like discomfort.
DINA (Cont’d) Stuff slipping out from that third hole–I’ll never get used to that.
After a rough groan, she takes a moment to regroup and then continues on her way into making a decision regarding lunch, which is when SAMIRA enters.
SAMIRA Hey, Rowena just got back to me on that…feminine issue we’ve been having.
DINA She on her way?
SAMIRA No, but she just texted me the spell. Should be a quick thing.
DINA (Cringes.) Don’t tell me we need period blood…
SAMIRA What? Why the hell would–
DINA I just don’t wanna have to think about it–
SAMIRA Well then stop thinking about it. Also, no, I don’t think we have to worry about you seeing your…period blood…anyway.
DINA Lemme see then.
Samira hands her phone to Dina, who nods at each point on the list of ingredients as well as the to-do list.
DINA (Cont’d) Alright, let’s get started on the quickest, cheapest transgender surgery back to our own bodies.
SAMIRA “Transgend”–I don’t think that’s actually how that–(Shakes his head to refocus.) Never mind. I’ll gather up the stuff for the spell.
DINA I’m gonna call Cass.
SAMIRA I don’t think his Angel grace is gonna help with our current predicament.
DINA His mojo will at least make it all stop, Sam! I’m in so much pain, I don’t get how they do this every month! Who knows how I’m gonna feel if I get knocked up? I DON’T WANNA RISK GETTING KNOCKED UP, SAM!!!
SAMIRA Ok, ok! Call your boyfriend! (Quickly.) Just do anything that’ll get yourself pregnant!
DINA Just git–
CUT TO:
INT. BUNKER – LIBRARY
The ingredients have been put together and the spell is almost finished. Just one more incantation and the Winchester Girls should be the Winchester Boys again. Meanwhile, Cass is standing against the wall, puzzled by how his boyfriend looks.
CASS Odd…how you look so much Sister Jo…
DINA Cass? Focus. (To Samira.) Well?
SAMIRA We have to recite this spell together and drop our blood into the basin.
DINA Not–
SAMIRA (Shakes his head.) Nah, you’re good. It’s just…just slice your hand and squeeze. Y’know, the usual.
DINA (Relieved.) Ok, good…
SAMIRA (Hands Dean a copy of the incantation, as well as his own dagger.) Ready?
DINA Let’s do it, Phoebe.
SAMIRA What?
DINA Charmed. Cass is obviously Leo, which means I’m Piper. That means you have to be Phoebe. (All it takes is a nasty look from Samira and Cass for Dina to blame someone else for their distraction.) Come on, let’s get on with it! Why are we wasting time? Let’s move!
SAMIRA and DINA “Wrong place, wrong time, wrong body, wrong mind; bring me back the way I was and trade her flesh and bones for mine.”
After the ladies slice their own hands and spill their own blood into the mixture, the underground Bunker gets hit with a hurricane, and we watch Cass’ reaction as a bright flash blinds his Angel eyes. When the light fades, we see him look shockingly at the end result.
CASS Sam? Dean?
Our Boys are back to normal. Cass gives Dean a kiss and they hold each other.
DEAN Cass. (He then coughs, clears his throat, and tries again, intentionally making it deeper than usual to emphasize his manliness.) Cass? Yep, I’m back.
SAM Yeah, I think so too.
DEAN What the hell was that all about?
CASS (Avoiding eye contact.) Some kind of anomaly, I assume?
DEAN But why Ruby and Sister Jo?
CASS It doesn’t matter now. You’re both back to normal.
DEAN Shouldn’t we look into it? Make sure it doesn’t happen again?
CASS Dean, STOP. You’re back to normal, and it won’t happen again. Shouldn’t that be enough for you? (Teleports out of there.)
Both Sam and Dean stand there in silence, in thinking mode, but not for long.
DEAN So Cass did something to us…
SAM Yeah, for sure. Should we…ask him about it?
DEAN I’m already done with this day. My body’s been through enough. (He catches himself.) Well, I mean…y’know.
The silence was pounding in my ears. I sat at the motel desk, scrolling through the Internet, doing some in-depth research. I was going to be in bed by midnight, but once that rolled around, I knew I couldn’t just shut my brain off by this point, especially with my computer screen keeping my eyes active. Sorry, sleep; I gotta take a rain check for tonight.
I heard my partner, Dean, shuffling in bed. I glanced over to make sure he wouldn’t wake up. I thought I saw the glint of his eyes from my laptop screen, but once it went out, I shrugged and turned back around. I hoped he’d fallen back asleep, so I scrolled through the Men of Letters library, which Rowena had kindly magically transcribed online.
I bet you’re asking what I’m studying up on so badly. Remember how in The X-Files, Mulder was so obsessed with the paranormal because he was absolutely sure his little sister had been abducted by aliens when they were kids, and he was so passionate about the X-files that he was literally the only federal agent in charge of the supernatural unit? That’s how I got into Hunting. That’s usually how we get into the industry; something happened in our personal lives, which opened our eyes to that fact that Monsters usually heard in sci-fi and horror movies were all real. Well, most of them. Ironically, after all that “X-Files” talk, we still have yet to see extraterrestrials in our line of work.
When I was a teenager, I was with my fiancé in our town’s own Lover’s Lane; we were celebrating that night, because, despite being seniors in high school, we’d gotten engaged, since I found out I got knocked up. Right when he was trying to locate which hole was correct, if you know what I mean, I saw something behind him. My supernaturally blind eye couldn’t fathom what it was exactly; all I thought to do was scream, “JASON, LOOK OUT!!!”
But it was too late. Everything happened so fast, yet every time I replay it in my head, it’s in slow motion and when I have nightmares reliving that moment, I can never do anything about it. Dean knows I came into this business on a personal mission, but I never told him any details, just that I was in high school at the time of the pivotal event.
Because I wanted to start Hunting for Monsters like the one that took my beloved away from me, I gave up our daughter for adoption, since I didn’t want to get her involved in the life. I was way too young to be a mother anyway, so she would’ve been much better off wherever she ended up, I’m almost absolutely positive. It was a closed adoption, so I said I didn’t want to know anything about her new life. I couldn’t bear to hear it, since it wasn’t going to be with her biological father; as harsh as it sounds, we would never be a complete family, through my eyes.
A few hours later, I decided to take a break. I needed to step away from the nightmarish images I found online, none of which came even close to what I saw in person. Dean was still asleep by the time I started my shower, but when I finished up in the bathroom, I discovered him sitting up in bed, putting on a shirt. When he heard me exit the bathroom, the first thing he said was, “You get any sleep?”
“Who are you, my father?” What I tried to express as a joke came off as sassy, neither of which Dean was apparently in the mood for.
“Every time I looked over last night, you were on your computer,” Dean said, more urgently.
“How would you know I was awake for all those times if you weren’t awake for it?” I replied defensively as I packed my dirty clothes inside a plastic laundry bag given to us from our first motel out of the house, so I could wash them once we got to the Bunker. We’d been out for almost a week, so the dirty laundry was piling up.
Dean rolled his eyes and stepped into the now-open bathroom. I assumed the conversation was over and that I won the argument, but as soon as he came back out, he said, “I got two hours’ of shuteye, which isn’t much, but at least it’s more than I can say for you. I’m just worried that, with all this stress you’re under…you’re gonna drop the ball one of these days, and I can’t have that happen to you.”
“I won’t drop the ball. You know I’ve got your back; I always do.”
That sentiment left me speechless. Sure, Dean and I respected each other as professional companions, we butted heads over personal issues that I didn’t expect him to actually care about my well-being. Well, I said I always had his back, I suppose this was just him having mine.
“I went over your search history while you were showering,” Dean confessed.
My heart sank. I exclaimed, “What?! Why would you do that? That’s private!”
“You’re not talking to me! You and I are partners, which means you have to tell me everything!”
“Not everything.”
“You have to tell me things that are bothering you, so that maybe I can help you out!” Dean rubbed his eyes as if he had a headache he was trying to nurse. “Maybe the reason why you haven’t gone anywhere with your investigation is because you need another Hunter to bounce ideas off of. Why am I here if you won’t let me support you?”
He had a point. I was getting nowhere just investigating Jason’s death on my own. I genuinely considered the idea, and made a decision. I sat down on my bed and Dean joined me on his, so we could face each other. He took my hands into his and held a tight enough grip to show me he was there for me.
So I gave him the gist of what happened that day. I showed him some pictures I surmised from memory to see if he’d come across it throughout his career: it was like a large, skinny werewolf with antlers. He then showed me this from his dad’s famous Hunting journal:
“Read that,” ordered Dean. “Tell me if that sounds like your thing.”
“Half phantom, half man, half beast. Eats live flesh, lives in forests. Over 15 feet tall, glowing eyes, long yellow fangs, sallow skin. Son of a bitch!” I looked at him, so aggravated with myself. “I’ve been wasting the past two decades trying to find out what this thing is and my answer’s been in your jacket this whole time??”
As I playfully shoved him, he said with a grin, “That’s what happens when you don’t communicate with your partner.” He apologized if it was too soon to make jokes, but didn’t need to, since even I found it a little funny. Once we got our laughs out of our system, I said, “So how do we do this?”
“Sam and I came across one in Colorado, and I took it out by shooting a flare gun at it. You see, wendigos are sensitive to heat, so you can fend one off with just a torch and it’ll back off.”
“Ok, so then we can take it out with a–“
“Grenade launcher,” Dean proposed with stars in his eyes.
For some reason, Dean was obsessed with using the grenade launcher he got from his Uncle Bobby. He wanted his big, badass John McClane moment, but there was never a right time to use it. Including this time. I said, “No.”
“Come on–“
“It’s a little excessive for a wendigo, isn’t it? Even for you.”
“Yeah, but–“
“No. All you needed last time was a flare gun. There is no legitimate need for a grenade launcher.”
Dean disappointedly obliged. He was in fumes, which made me smirk victoriously. On a more serious note, he responded, “Well, I guess we know where our next case is. You’re goin’ home.”
I took a whiff of my laundry bag and said, “Let’s stop by the Bunker first. It’s on the way.”
SAM is seated at a desk, his laptop and a few lorebooks laid out in front of him. Like the college student he once was, he takes avid notes whenever he finds info worth noting. Enter DAVENEIGH, who smiles politely at her brother-in-law.
SAM Hey.
DAVENEIGH What are you studying?
SAM I thought I came across a genie the other day, but it wasn’t, like, a Djinn. It granted wishes.
DAVENEIGH So like a genie in a lamp? Like Aladdin?
SAM My guess is as good as yours.
DAVENEIGH What’d you wish for?
SAM Are you kidding? I’m a seasoned enough Hunter to know not to mess with that stuff.
DAVENEIGH 😇 Good boy. Work hard and suffer to get what you wish for, just like the rest of us.
SAM (Chuckles.) Yeah.
DEAN then enters, holding two beers; one for him, one for Sam. When he sees Sam, Dean hands him his bottle, but as soon as he notices his own wife, he glares at her and then looks away. Obviously, Sam notices the tension. Daveneigh sighs and leaves the room.
SAM (as Dean uses his stink eye to follow her out of the room.) So I guess forgiveness is out of the picture…
DEAN Hey, she can come apologize to me whenever she wants, and I’ll be gracious enough to forgive her as soon as she does.
SAM You do realize that that’s exactly how she feels, only that you’re the one who’s supposed to grovel at her feet?
DEAN Sam, I know for a fact that I am not the one at fault this time. Now, when I finish off the last of the toilet paper and don’t replace it, yeah, I’ll be the first to admit I’m a dick. I forget our anniversary every year and she calls me a douchebag, that’s fair. But she has a private meeting with an ex of hers she knows I have issues with, and she neglects to tell me about it, you can’t blame me if that sounds a little suspicious.
SAM Yeah, but you know she wouldn’t cheat on you.
DEAN This isn’t about me not trusting her.
SAM Isn’t it? If you really believe her when she says it didn’t mean anything, then that’s it. Fight over.
DEAN Sam, just… (He doesn’t have any other cards to play, except for the “Older Brother” card.) Just stay out of it, man. It’s my marriage.
SAM I’m going to ignore you treating me like a child instead of the grown-ass man I am, because I know you’re hurting. (Sighs as Dean pinches the bridge of his nose.) So, what, you’re just gonna keep walking past each other in the kitchen, not saying a word?
DEAN (After a sip of his drink, his confident stance on the matter remains.) I’m not giving up on this one.
SAM Dean, how stubborn do you have to be that you’re willing to risk your entire marriage just to win one fight, because that’s essentially what you’re giving up, as long as you’re holding onto this grudge against her! You don’t think she’s also in pain because of this? You don’t think she’d leave you over it? You’re blowing this way out of proportion, man, and whatever paranoia you suffer from isn’t worth losing your wife over! I’m sorry, but you need to know that!
Dean doesn’t respond. He just takes another swig of his beer and looks at Sam, glassy-eyed.
SAM (Cont’d) Look, you’re both adults, so just talk to her, man. No arguing, just have an actual conversation about this. Communicate, don’t hesitate.
DEAN 😒 What, you have that on a poster somewhere?
SAM 😏 Talk. Before she walks.
DEAN 🙄 Alright, I’m just gonna… (Takes a huge gulp of his beer and exits.)
A parent’s worst nightmare. We can all picture how that looks: something happens to the kid, and the outcome is always hazy. If they get lucky, the child is safe and it was all a giant close call. Not all parents are that fortunate, however; some kids don’t make it out alive.
I called up my son’s dad to make sure he was aware that he was picking him up after school. He confirmed this and we both went about our day. No issues there.
That afternoon however, around the time Mason was supposed to be at lunch, Sam called me and said, “Honey, listen to me–“
I rolled my eyes and responded, “What did I say about calling me that?”
“Charlotte, I’m serious–“
“I’m serious about this divorce, Sam, and you calling me cutesy pet names doesn’t make that any easier on either of us.”
“There’s been an accident at the school!” Sam interrupted my train of thought before I could push forward. “Mason’s in the E.R. I’m on my way.”
My heart sank. I replied, “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know for sure. They said he was at the monkey bars and his hands slipped and he landed on his head.”
“Oh, my God…” Without thinking, I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. “Did they tell you which hospital?”
“St. Mitchell’s Children’s Hospital,” Sam said.
“Okay, I’ll meet you there.”
“And, Charlotte?” called Sam. I paused to let him speak. “We’re gonna get through this. No matter what happens.”
“I can’t think about us right now,” I said more icily than I meant to. “All that matters is our son.”
The 20-minute drive over felt like an eternity. The worst case scenario kept replaying in my mind despite having yet to experience it. Mason was our only child; he had to be okay. He was the last thing that tethered Sam and myself together. If we lost him, then it’s all officially over.
Sam was already at the hospital, so as soon as I saw him, I ran over and we embraced each other’s comfort. He cupped my head against his shoulder and kissed my head while I pulled his arm towards myself.
“Anything?” I asked.
“No updates yet. He’s in surgery.”
“So, what? We just wait?”
“It’s out of our hands,” Sam said.
“How did this happen? Wasn’t anyone watching him during recess?”
“The headmistress said it all happened so fast.”
Of course, it did, I thought.
Sam and I looked at each other. We shared that mutual feeling of helplessness toward the other. Sam made the first move by offering me a coffee. I was already jittery, so I declined. Coffee wasn’t going to help with my nerves. I just wanted to know that my son was going to be alright; that was all I needed at the moment. Sam gave me one last hug before heading down to the cafeteria.
When he returned with two to-go coffee mugs, he handed me one, and when I was about to object, he pointed out that mine was some sleepytime tea to calm my nerves. I smiled, getting a glimpse of my husband when we first got married. I guess he still knew me in some ways more than others.
“Hey, I know this isn’t the best time to discuss this,” Sam started. “But seeing as how all we have is time to kill, may be it is the best time to talk? Are you serious about the divorce?”
“Sam–“
“Listen, I know we haven’t been in sync recently, but that’s just how it is right now,” Sam pleaded. “Who’s to say it’s going to be like that forever?”
“Sam, we are not discussing our pending divorce while our son is in emergency surgery!” I hissed at him.
Sam tried to hide the pain in his eyes, but his voice had a mind of its own. He forced out, “I know. I’m sorry I even brought it up.”
By midnight, Sam and I were still in the waiting room. I ended up falling asleep against his shoulder, so he snuck his jacket onto my body, so I wouldn’t get cold, and wrapped his arm around me so his hand would touch my waist.
When I stirred awake, I saw he was reading an article on his phone. I managed to get a glimpse of the title, and said, “Caught a case?”
“Maybe,” Sam replied, his eyes glued to his phone.
“Any update on Mason?”
“Not yet.”
“His surgery shouldn’t have taken this long. Do you think something went wrong?” I asked as I sat up.
“It’s probably a good sign,” Sam replied. “I mean, if there were complications, I’m sure they would’ve come out and let us know by now.”
“I wish they would just tell us, even if there’s no news.” As my body became more alert, I grew anxious again.
And then, as if on cue, a couple of our son’s surgeons came out. I wanted to get a hint on his condition based on their eyes: were they sad or triumphant? I couldn’t tell.
“There were some hiccups on the road,” said the lead surgeon. “But he’s stable. Your son is going to be okay.”
Sam and I burst into tears of relief and we held each other. Sam asked, “He’s really gonna be okay? No deficits or anything?”
“Your son will be as good as new in no time.”
“Thank you,” Sam said.
I asked eagerly, “When can we see him?”
“He’s currently in post-op, so as soon as we get him situated, we’ll take you right to him.”
Sam and I made eye contact again. I said, “He’s going to be okay.”
“Yeah, he will.” Sam smiled.
“We’re going to be okay, too.”
Getting a divorce was still up in the air, but I knew that almost losing our kid made us stronger than ever, so who knows? Maybe the thought of losing our family was the exact thing we needed to stay a family.
Open to DAVENEIGH looking inside a small box, kneeling in front of a hole that is large enough to fit said box. We see various items, but we make note that her final ingredient is her fake NASA ID card. She places the box inside the hole and fills it back up.
DAVENEIGH (Standing up.) And now we wait.
GUY (From behind her.) Not for long.
Daveneigh gasps and turns to face him.
DAVENEIGH (Smirks once she realizes who it is.) Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir?
GUY (Rolls eyes.) You’re not the first person to greet me that way.
DAVENEIGH And I won’t be the last.
GUY I don’t have to make a deal with you.
DAVENEIGH I’m sorry, just… Take me to my house and we’ll do this from there.
GUY (Shrugs.) Your wish is my command. (Puts a hand on her shoulder and snaps.)
CUT TO:
INT. VICTORIAN HOUSE
GUY (Cont’d) Well, well, well, what can I do you for, Madame?
DAVENEIGH My husband and I are having fertility issues. I want my next pregnancy to actually take. Can you make that happen?
GUY Depends. What are you offering?
DAVENEIGH Ten years.
GUY I don’t think so.
DAVENEIGH What? That’s how crossroads deals always work.
GUY Yeah, but I know the rest of your story. You’re not meant to be a mother.
DAVENEIGH I don’t believe you. I’m meant to get pregnant, and I’m 36, which apparently already means I’m going to have a geriatric pregnancy, so that’s fun to hear, finding out that 35 is the cutoff for what’s considered young.
GUY I never said you never have a successful pregnancy.
DAVENEIGH Then what?
GUY If you get knocked up now, you’re gonna die during labor, so you sure you want to take that chance?
DAVENEIGH So what you’re saying is, even if I carry that baby to term, but won’t be around to raise them?
GUY Yay! You made the connection!
DAVENEIGH I don’t believe you.
GUY Hey, I don’t care. I wouldn’t get anything out of lying about that, would I?
DAVENEIGH You’re still a demon, so I have no reason to trust you.
GUY Then why’d you call me?
DAVENEIGH (A beat.) OK. I’ll take it. My child’s life for mine. Without the extra decade. I’ll do it.
GUY You absolutely sure? Once we kiss and make it official, as soon as you see two lines on that stick, it won’t be long. Really think about it though: why do you want to have a baby? To be able to raise it, right? What’s the point if you’re not going to be around for it? Catch-22, baby.
DAVENEIGH How does it happen? Maybe I can avoid it if I get a sense what goes wrong.
GUY Where’s the fun in that? Life is full of mystery and unpredictability for a reason. So? What’s it gonna be, Dav-a-nee?
DAVENEIGH Let’s do it.
GUY Dean wouldn’t like this.
DAVENEIGH My body, my choice, right?
GUY Good girl. Now come here and gimme some sugar.
Daveneigh kisses him to seal the deal. When they separate, you can already see her lack of certainty in her eyes.
GUY (Wiping his lips with a smirk.) Pleasure doing business with you.
As soon as he snaps, he disappears. That’s when we hear Daveneigh’s phone right. It’s Dean. “Ignore Call”.
Open to DAVENEIGH behind an empty bar, wiping down the countertop while preparing for that evening’s shift, and more importantly, the children’s party in a couple hours. Husband DEAN enters, carrying a couple of six-packs, in the middle of stocking up the fridge behind her with various IPAs. Pretending to avoid bumping into her, he excuses himself, but when their butts touch, she playfully smacks his behind.
DEAN Whoa, hey…not in the workplace.
DAVENEIGH We’re married and we own the place. I’m sure the bosses won’t mind.
They give each other flirty eyebrows and kiss. Then, not wanting to lose their momentum, as Daveneigh walks away, Dean calls after her.
DEAN Hey, I preheated the oven, so can you put in the chili fries once it gets up to temp?
DAVENEIGH Sure thing, boss.
DEAN Thanks, boss! You da best!
DAVENEIGH Oh, hey, don’t forget, we’re celebrating Clara’s fourth Gotcha Day here, so we should set up the Captain Marvel decorations.
DEAN That’s right. Man, it’s already been four years since Claire and Kaia took her in, huh?
DAVENEIGH Baby girl’s growin’ up.
They share a proud smile, but read each other’s minds as they wander off to what happened with their Roadhouse’s namesake. Daveneigh catches the huge sign that bears that exact name up on the wall, which Dean notices and follows her gaze. He looks back at his wife, feeling helpless. The only thing he knows to do is drop everything he’s doing and hold Daveneigh. She accepts his supportive gesture.
DEAN I know, honey. I miss her, too. (Kisses her head.)
DAVENEIGH It’s been four years, and it still hurts.
DEAN Hey, whose name is that up there?
DAVENEIGH Hers.
DEAN And as long as this place still stands, so does she. (Gives her an uplifting smile.) Right?
DAVENEIGH You sure you don’t want to talk more about it?
DEAN I gotta get back to stocking the fridge.
DAVENEIGH Right. I’d better go check on the oven. I don’t want to burn the place down or anything. Gotta keep it standing.
DEAN That’s my girl.
CUT TO:
INT. SARAH’S ROADHOUSE – KITCHEN
Daveneigh checks the temperature on the oven and sees it is ready to bake the chili fries. She takes the pan of chili fries and opens the oven door, and tries to carefully slide it in. Unfortunately, in an effort to avoid the edge of the oven, her fingers get caught between the dish and the oven rack. She quickly drops the pan on the burning hot metal rack and shuts the door.
DAVENEIGH (Gasps and screams.) Ow! Son of a bitch!
Hearing this, Dean storms in and finds his wife at the sink, running her fingers under cold water. He rushes over to assist.
DEAN What happened?!
DAVENEIGH It’s that fucking oven, Dean! We need to upgrade the design or something, because I can’t keep putting shit in and out of it from the side like this anymore!
DEAN Ok, just take a breath, babe.
DAVENEIGH I’m just sick of getting hurt over and over again! Something needs to change, Dean!
DEAN Ok, first of all, breathe with me. Hey, look at me. Breathe as I do.
As Dean leads her in the slow breaths, she feels all her negative emotions–the agony from the burn, frustration, not just over the oven, but with Dean, and the sadness–overwhelming her.
DEAN (Cont’d) Better?
DAVENEIGH No. (As Dean walks to the freezer to grab her an ice pack.) Dean, it’s been four years since we lost our little girl, and not once have you talked about it. Do you realize that? Four years and not once have we physically sat down and discussed your side.
DEAN And that’s my fault? We got busy starting up a business, Dav.
DAVENEIGH Why did we even start it in the first place? Do you remember that conversation?
Dean rolls his eyes and faces away from her.
DAVENEIGH (Cont’d) Dean…why did we build Sarah’s Roadhouse in the first place, huh?
DEAN To keep her legacy alive.
DAVENEIGH No. We agreed we needed something to distract ourselves, so we dove headfirst into the bar. Hey, look at me and tell me I’m wrong.
Dean slams his fist against the counter and walks out the backdoor of the restaurant, but not without giving her one last glare. Daveneigh isn’t afraid of a threatening scowl, so after slamming the ice pack on the counter, she follows him outside where she finds him seated in the deck chair he had set up for them on their smoke breaks. She sits next to him, not wanting to budge on the subject. It’s been four years. This talk was long overdue.
CUT TO:
EXT. SARAH’S ROADHOUSE – REAR EXIT
DAVENEIGH We built this place for me. Because I wanted to keep her alive and I thought this would help fill that hole in my heart. But you never talked to me. I was always the one sharing my grief.
She places a loving hand on the back of his neck as if pulling him in for a kiss.
DAVENEIGH (Cont’d) I’m your partner. In more ways than one. Talk to me.
DEAN You’re right. Sarah’s Roadhouse was your way of coping with this. But for the past four years, I’ve been beating myself up for that night.
DAVENEIGH Honey…
DEAN It was all my fault, Dav. I shoulda checked and made sure she stayed home while I went out on that Hunt. If I had, none of this would’ve– (He lets out a sob.)
DAVENEIGH (Pulls him in for that kiss now. She then clears her throat.) Dean…I want you to listen to me: Sarah’s death…was not your fault. You hear me? That was not your fault. For the entire year after she died, I’d blamed myself too, because I should’ve known that she would run after you and sneak into the backseat to see Daddy at work. But kids…they get curious. That’s all that happened. Neither of us could’ve predicted that she’d sneak out under our noses like that. It’s nobody’s fault.
DEAN (Wiping his tears.) C’mon, you had to have blamed me for some of it.
DAVENEIGH I’m not gonna lie. You took the brunt of my rage at the beginning. But I realized you love that little girl just as much as I do, maybe even more. There’s no way you would’ve intended on her getting hurt. You were working and she snuck out. That’s the truth. There’s no use beating ourselves up about it.
DEAN What happens now?
DAVENEIGH We have our goddaughter’s party to set up for. That’s what happens now. After that, we close for the rest of the day and we’re gonna go upstairs to our apartment, have some kickass, mind-blowing sex–(Dean lets out a chuckle.)–and then we’ll talk. Or at least you’ll talk.
DEAN (Kisses her head.) You always know just what to say, don’t you?
DAVENEIGH Sound like a plan?
DEAN (Takes her injured hand.) How’s your hand?
DAVENEIGH Better. Just a first-degree burn. I’ll live.
I waited for Dean at our spot in the woods. It seemed urgent, but I had no clue what this impromptu meeting was about, and the anger in his voice told me it wasn’t the usual random booty call. My stomach felt queasy, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the anxiety or the little nugget I was carrying. I didn’t care, I just wanted to get this rendezvous over with.
Suddenly, I heard the familiar purring of the engine of Dean’s precious Chevy Impala. Then, she’d stopped humming and I saw Dean exit from the car. He didn’t look happy; he looked almost like Ricky Ricardo whenever he said Lucy had some “‘splainin’ to do”.
“June 11th. Talk.”
I was baffled by the sudden interrogation, and why that date? I knew he couldn’t have been accusing me of cheating on him, since we agreed this wasn’t exclusive, so I responded, “What is this about, Dean?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” Dean said with his best “I’m-done-with-your-bullshit” tone. “On June 11th, our third victim went missing. Day after that, she was found with fang marks on her neck. If it wasn’t you, then it was someone in your little nest that took her out.”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” as hard as I tried to avoid it, my voice was quivering, nervous, not about the case, since I really was innocent on that front, but of the impending news he was about to get regarding his little nugget. I was planning on telling him when he gave me that call saying he wanted to meet ASAP, but now I wasn’t so sure, since he wasn’t in the best mood to receive that kind of announcement.
Dean rolled his eyes and replied, “And why don’t I believe you? You said you had a handle on this–“
“I do!” I felt myself getting mildly defensive about his lack of faith in me.
“Then prove it wasn’t you! June 11th at 4:15PM! Where the hell were you?”
I stomped on the brakes of this conversation. I cautiously continued, “Wait, 4:15 in the afternoon? On June 11th?”
Dean saw something clicked inside my head, so when his gut told him that I would finally go somewhere productive during my statement, he relaxed on me a little bit. He softly said, “Yeah, does that mean anything to you?”
I locked eyes with him, trying to get a read on if he was ready to hear this or not. I realized that he had to find out, regardless of how prepared he was; this was about clearing my name.
So I reached into my purse and took out my wallet. Tucked inside one of the pockets was the ultrasound of our little nugget. When I handed it to him, I said, “Look at the time stamp. I was at my obstetrician’s office…getting a first look at…our baby.”
Dean gave me that “deer-in-headlights” look. When he finally managed to conjure up a verbal response, he said, “Our?”
“You’re gonna be a daddy,” I said. “Look, I know your financial situation is…” How could I put this nicely? “…nonexistent.” I suppose that was the sugarcoated version? “Which is why you don’t owe me anything. You can be as involved as you want. I won’t hold it against you if you decide the domestic life just is not for you.” I noticed how quiet he was. “Please, say something, Dean.”
He wasn’t listening; the man was too preoccupied gazing at the product of our bimonthly hookups. Until now, we had tried to keep this as casual as possible, trying to make it all about the sex, but lately, the foreplay had incorporated a lot more making out; I guess we were both invested before this baby was even in the picture.
“So does my alibi check out, boss?” I didn’t know what his mood was, so I kept it light-hearted when I tried grabbing his attention. “That sonogram was taken on June 11th at exactly 4:15PM. I’m not your Fang, Dean.”
“Yeah, you are.”
I started sweating as soon as he said this. How was that not evidence enough that I wasn’t the killer?
“You’re my girl,” he clarified with a shrug. “And you just happen to be a Fang.”
I felt my cheeks get warm. Like a teenage girl, I said, “I’m your Fang? Whatever happened to not labeling…us?”
Dean said, “C’mon, that was complete horseshit and you know it.” We both laughed. “We’re gonna be parents.”
A warm happiness washed over me as I walked over to him and we shared our first kiss as soon-to-be mother and father. I whispered, “We’re gonna be parents.”
He then showed me the ultrasound, so we could both look at the beautiful baby we created as one. It was the perfect profile view, where we could see the baby’s head, nose, and mouth. We could even see its tiny fingers waving at us. Dean then asked, “Did they tell you if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“Too soon to tell, but I don’t care.”
He smiled at me and gave me another kiss.
Once our lips separated, I offered, “Let me help you out with the case. I’ll ask around my nest and see if any of them cheated on their diet.”
“Just be careful. There’s a lot more on the line now.”
When I met Sammy’s English teacher, Mr. Wyatt, I felt the typical schoolgirl crush on him, as much as I hated to admit it. His smile lit up the room; I saw him teach one time and he was extremely good with the kids. When I looked at him, I felt like my heart was leaping out of my chest, trying to go to his. Yeah, I know, it’s gross. I hate that I even felt this way about him, and I wouldn’t have done anything about it, even when he asked how old I was. 19 years old, so I’ve been legal. I blushed when he asked and he tried to hide his rosy cheeks from me, but it seemed like he was also a little ashamed to admit his feelings.
Because of this, I didn’t want to push him into doing something he wasn’t comfortable doing, considering it was his livelihood on the line if anything actually had happened, so I left it at that. I was there to find Sam, who had already left. Mr. Wyatt moved the conversation along and said, “Ahem, Sam had forgotten to take his essay. Will you pass it along to him?”
I smiled as I accepted the paper. I snuck a peek at the title: “The Summer My Family and I Killed a Werewolf”. I knew there was a bit of truth to it; well, not just a bit. I skimmed the first few lines and got the notion that this assignment was based on personal experience. Sam just hadn’t lied about his summer adventure like we’d discussed years ago about the life as a family of supernatural Monster Hunters. Just to make sure, I asked, “Mr. Wyatt, what was this assignment about? Was it a creative writing assignment?”
“You could say that.” I quietly sighed of relief. “But I wanted my students to write about how they spent their summer. I didn’t expect this…” He gestured toward the paper. “Work of fiction.” He interrupted his own train of thought, convinced he’d read my mind, and said, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s very well-written. I gave him an A.”
“Yeah, he’s the writer of the family,” I lied. “Thank you for this.”
Before I could exit his classroom, Mr. Wyatt stopped me and said, “Ms. Winchester?”
I turned around and made eye contact with him. Because of my power of empathy, I could feel his desire to be with me in more than just an emotional sense. I replied, “Yes, Mr. Wyatt?”
Just say it, I thought. I know you want to ask. I’m an adult, and I’m not your student, so there’s absolutely nothing wrong with–
“Tell Mr. Winchester he did a great job.” Mr. Wyatt gave me a curt smile.
You know that feeling you get when you really wanted something to happen, you couldn’t believe it actually could, but then all hope is lost? I smiled back at him and nodded, trying to hide my disappointment.
Whatever negative feeling I had for Sam’s teacher at the moment had to wait. I noticed Sam and Dean waiting for me at the bleachers. Dean seemed to be upset about something, and I could tell by his pacing back and forth in front of Sam. As I approached them, Dean yelled, “I’m gonna rip his LUNGS out!”
“What? Whose lungs?” I asked, curiously.
“Get this,” Dean filled me in on the situation. “Sammy’s got a bully in his class, who knocked him to the ground, and he did nothing to stop him.”
I didn’t see the big deal in this, so I said, “I mean, that’s good, right? No normal kid knows how to properly kick someone’s ass. Not at Sam’s age.”
“Yeah, which is why it’ll be up to me to friggin’ RIP HIS–“
“Yeah, we get it, Batman,” I said, rolling my eyes at Dean. I held up the paper in front of Sam. “Listen, kid, we need to talk about this essay that you wrote.”
Sam suddenly got nervous, looking at the piece of paper. He shifted away from me, as if I were going to hurt him. He said, “Oh?”
“‘The Summer My Family and I Killed a Werewolf’?” I read aloud. “Mr. Wyatt told me this was a paper on how you spent last summer.”
“Uh-huh,” Sam mumbled while looking away, shuffling his feet against the seat in front of him.
“‘Uh-huh’, and that’s all you have to say?” I asked him. “Sam, you’re lucky that Mr. Wyatt thought that it was a short story you wrote, but what if he hadn’t, huh? What if he’d actually known about the werewolf pack we took down?”
I didn’t realize how loud I was being until sarcastically told me to “yeah, say it louder, why don’t you?” as he scanned the soccer field for outsiders who may be listening in.
I returned my attention to Sam.
“Sammy…” I continued as I sat next to him. “Just help me understand…why did you do this? Do you have any idea how close–“
“Look, just shut up, okay?!” Sam burst out. “I just wanted to be like the other kids and finally tell the truth about what I did over the summer! I’m sick of lying all the time! Do you know how hard it is to make things up on a personal essay?! All I wanted was to tell my truth this time! Is that too much to ask?! It just sucks that the rest of the world can’t find out what we do, but what’s the use of that, huh?! Why can’t they find out so we can help them become Hunters too?! That way, all of this supernatural stuff, we can have more people on our side!”
Suddenly, Dad had honked on the horn of the Impala. Sam was saved by the horn. He was the first to take off for the car, and Dean and I looked at each other like concerned parents struggling with their rebellious son.
Open to a pregnant EMILY, who isn’t too large, but at the point in her pregnancy where her belly is at an adorable size. Dressed in paint-splattered overalls, she steps back, taking a break from rolling the yellow coloring on the wall, to see how her progress turned out so far. She uses the back of her hand to dab at her sweat-drenched bangs, and get them out of her face. Suddenly, she hears a familiar maternal voice from the door. It’s her mother, ROWENA.
ROWENA And what have we here, little missy? A little girl in trouble?
EMILY (Smiles and goes over to hug her.) Mum…how are you?
ROWENA (Running her magical hands around Emily’s belly.) How–when did this happen, darling?
EMILY Just a few months ago. I wanted to tell you, but we wanted it to be a surprise.
ROWENA I’m so happy for you, dear. I know how long you two have been trying.
EMILY I didn’t want to jinx it.
ROWENA (With a comforting hand on Emily’s cheek.) Oh, sweetheart…this one will make it, I know it.
EMILY (After smiling at each other for a beat.) Before I forget, I wanted to ask you, if you could be so kind as to put a protection spell around her.
ROWENA (Amazed.) “Her”?
EMILY “Her”.
ROWENA I would be honored to perform the spell.
(They share another hug.)
ROWENA (Cont’d) Now, tell me, where can I find the lads?
EMILY Library, doing research. What else?
ROWENA Really? Even Dean?
EMILY He’s reading new daddy stuff. He’s so anxious it’s so cute.
ROWENA I’ll see you later, aye?
EMILY Ok.
CUT TO:
Rowena exits the nursery, fuming at the ears. Once she spots the Winchesters seated at the desks in the library–Sam reading his lore book intently, Dean panic-flipping through the paternal version of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”–she makes sure she is heard.
ROWENA WHY d’ye hate me so much, lads, eh?
SAM (Puzzled.) What?
DEAN (Sweating.) You got a couple hours?
ROWENA My daughter is with child and not one of you said a word? Explain yourself, Dean!
DEAN We thought she was going to tell you; that’s not on us.
ROWENA (Insulted.) Samuel?
SAM Sorry? We didn’t think it was going to be a big deal.
ROWENA She’s been through multiple miscarriages, after which she always came crying to me, her mum. Heartbreak after heartbreak and you didn’t think it was going to be a big deal?
DEAN She didn’t want to make it a big deal. It was bad enough we got hopeful, she didn’t want to add you into the hype.
ROWENA Well, I know now, and since I can’t be mad at her, my grudge is with both of ye.
DEAN (Sarcastically.) How will we ever live? (After a beat for the air to get serious, losing any sense of the rivalry.) You think this one’ll take, Rowena? I mean, you saw her. What do your Witchy senses tell you?
ROWENA I think so. I took a quick look at her. She’s healthy. Emily also wants me to perform a protection spell on the child this time, but I’ll need the proud father present.
DEAN Just say the word.
ROWENA I’m really happy for you two. I shouldn’t have questioned your intentions with my daughter, Dean. You’re really good to each other.
DEAN I’d take a bullet for her. And our kid.
ROWENA (Nodding towards Dean’s book.) I guess you don’t need that book after all. You have it all figured out.
DEAN Yeah, says the woman who loved someone else as a son more than her own.
ROWENA I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Dean. Not being more loving to Fergus was the worst of them all.
My mind was racing a mile a minute. I knew how Dean would react, and I knew he’d understand, since he would do the same in a heartbeat. It all happened so fast too, but the decision didn’t take long to make; a mother always chooses to save her child, no matter what it does to herself. They don’t have the advantage I have in order to actually keep my kid from dying of brittle bone disease. Type II, which was the deadliest for some reason, and not Type I or Type IV, like you’d think.
Quick orthopedic info: Osteogenesis Imperfecta (AKA brittle bone disease) happens in the womb. As the baby grows, their bones don’t get as strong as they should, due to a collagen disorder, and it affects the entire skeleton. Type II makes it easily breakable even in utero. It broke my spirit, learning that my baby wasn’t even being protected by my body, which is what’s supposed to happen.
I spent evenings praying before bed; wondering why Chuck would do this to my child. Was it because He and the father weren’t on good terms?
One night, I summoned the King of Hell, Crowley; he was in charge of crossroads deals. He knew when people were desperate, so he made the choice to show up, wondering what I had to say.
“You called?” Crowley asked.
“I wanna make a deal” was the first thing I’d blurted out. “My son’s health for my soul. What do you say?”
“And what did Squirrel have to say about our little exchange?” Crowley smirked.
“He doesn’t know,” I replied. “And he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t even know how sick our son is. So? Will you help?”
Crowley started chuckling as he started walking circles around me. He said, “Might I make a slight edit to our arrangement?”
I stayed silent, nervous about what else he had in mind.
“In lieu of your own soul, I request a little something else as collateral,” Crowley continued. “I heal your son, so he comes out a healthy newborn…” I looked down at my belly and ran a protective hand over the baby. “And you place this in his nursery.”
He snapped, which brought into his possession the last thing I ever expected the King of Hell to summon. It was a teddy bear. This couldn’t have come from a friendly place, I thought, so I said aloud, “What’s the catch? Is there a nanny cam or something?”
“Can’t I give your son a little gift out of the pure goodness of my heart?” Crowley asked innocently.
“You are literally the King of actual Hell,” I pointed out. “Don’t bullshit me with this ‘pure goodness of your heart’ crap.”
“Touché, darling,” Crowley said. He took one look at the bear and said, “No. It’s not a nanny cam. But I’ve asked dear old Mummy to enchant it with a protection spell, made specially to guard your little one.”
“I don’t understand. How is that something that I’m doing for you?”
“Believe it or not, that baby you’re carrying plays an important role in my reign down in Hell.”
“How?”
“Let’s just say…” he glanced back down at the bear and then showed me the front of it. “He’s my guardian teddy bear.” Crowley tossed me the stuffed animal.
“What, you’re saying I’m knocked up with your personal bodyguard?”
Crowley smiled and said, “Better than Kevin Costner was to Whitney. So, we have a deal, Mama Bear?”
“Deal.”
“Splendid, darling.”
“How do we make it official?” I already knew the answer, but was curious as to how else I could shake his hand…such as actually shaking his hand.
“You have to ask?” Crowley’s devious smirk came back.
I rolled my eyes and planted a kiss on his lips.
Crowley snapped and promised, “Done. Next time you get an ultrasound of the little tyke, he’ll be healthy as a horse.”
“What about their memories?” I asked. “I don’t want my OB telling me my baby’s disease magically went away.”
“They won’t remember a thing about the diagnosis,” answered Crowley. “You’re in the clear.” He glanced at the bear in my hands and said, “Take care of President Roosevelt.”
Teddy Roosevelt, I thought. Cute.
I took a better look at the teddy bear, wondering where the ideal place was to put this, and when I looked up, Crowley had disappeared.
When I set Mr. President on the drawers adjacent to and facing the baby’s crib, Dean had walked in and snaked his protective arms around my abdomen. I smiled as he kissed me on the head. The first thing he noticed was the new toy I had just brought into our son’s room. He said, “Where’d you get that?”
“Uhm, it was mine,” I responded, avoiding eye contact with him. “President Roosevelt was my favorite as a kid, so I wanted to pass it down to the baby.”
“‘President Roosevelt’? Ha! Cute.” Dean picked up the teddy bear and smiled at it. “My baby boy’s gonna love him.” When he set the bear back down, it wasn’t facing the right direction, so I casually fixed its field of vision.
Dean noticed this and said, “OCD much?”
“Well, I mean, he should be looking at the baby, right?” I said, nervously. “How else is he going to protect him?” I meant to pass it off as a joke and hoped that was exactly how it sounded.
“God, you’re weird.”
But I couldn’t keep lying to him. That wasn’t how I wanted us to start our journey as new parents. The truth was going to be out eventually, so I spilled, “Dean, I made a deal. With Crowley.”
Those words were never good, and based on past experience, whatever he was feeling wasn’t going to be positive. Dean said, “Crowley?”
“The baby was sick,” I started explaining. “Like, dying, sick. I didn’t know what else to do, so I met up with Crowley this afternoon. And I made a deal to save him.”
“You what?”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” I stammered. “I heard the words ‘mortality rate’ and went deaf. All I wanted was to save him from certain death.”
I sensed that Dean was trying to keep calm, and my anxiety for his impending rage didn’t help.
“Dean, say something.”
He gave me a fake smile during his effort to keep tensions low. He asked coolly, “Why? Just why?”
“You have to ask?”
“No, I mean, why didn’t you come to me when you found out? Why didn’t you clue me in, so we could make decisions like these together? It is not your job to handle these things on your own, not when the father is still in the picture.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” I said. “But don’t look at me and tell me you wouldn’t do the same in my position. I know you; you wouldn’t have batted an eye. You would’ve called up Crowley yourself, promised to give him whatever he wanted, and sealed the deal with a kiss.”
“Whoa, hey, I wouldn’t have kissed him,” Dean said defensively. “I mean, I would’ve asked for a chick, at least.” Just like that, I dropped the vindicating face and gave him a look of disapproval, to which he nervously replied, “I didn’t say I wanted her to be hot…since…y’know…nobody tops you in that department…”
I wasn’t amused, but he shook his head to show we had gotten off track and said, “Waitwaitwait, hold up, I’m not the one on trial here. You made a deal with Crowley about our son and you kept me out of loop.”
He had me beat.
“How long you got?” he asked. “I need to know what kinda deadline we’re dealing with so we can get you out of it.”
“Crowley didn’t want my soul,” I clarified. “It turns out our son will grow up to be the King of Hell’s private bodyguard. Rowena had enchanted the, uh, prez over there–” I pointed at the bear Dean had just met, which caused him to glance at it. “–with a strong protection spell to make sure that happens.”
“And you’re just…okay with this,” Dean wondered.
“Dean, if I hadn’t done this with Crowley,” I slowly tried to simplify. “Little Kevin wouldn’t have survived a week once he was born. I’m his mother; I had to do it.”
I looked into Dean’s eyes and the slow nod he gave me told me I was right. He knew he couldn’t be mad at me, since he really would have done the exact same thing to save our little boy. It was a win-win, for now, so we had to take it.
As her WITCH DOCTOR (literally a doctor who’s a witch) gives her advice on how to avoid another miscarriage after the last three pregnancies didn’t take, MAIA sits up, listening intently.
DR. MADISON I’m going to have to prescribe you bed rest for the rest of your pregnancy.
MAIA But that would mean I’d have to be here for six more months…that’s more than half an entire gestational period…
DR. MADISON I know. I’m sorry, but if you want to carry this baby to term, you must refrain from constant movement out of bed.
MAIA How am I supposed to help the Boys to Hunt?
DR. MADISON You have your laptop, WiFi…just do online research. Do you have someone who can stay with you while they’re out for work?
MAIA (Looks at all three boys sitting eagerly at the door. She locks eyes with the baby’s father and smiles hopefully at him.) My mother lives closeby. She can take care of me here.
DR. MADISON Perfect. (Checks watch.) I’m sorry, I have to head out to my next patient. Another house call. Summon me if you need me.
MAIA Thank you.
(TFW blocks the Doc’s exit out the door.)
SAM So, what can we do?
DR. MADISON She needs to take it easy until the baby comes, so I’ve prescribed her constant bed rest until her due date. In the meantime, she needs to keep her blood pressure in check; keep her stress level at a minimum.
DEAN Is that a for-sure way to avoid what happened last time? The bed rest?
DR. MADISON It’s her best shot.
SAM Ok. Thank you, Dr. Madison.
DR. MADISON Sure thing. Excuse me. (As she exits, the three guys gather around Maia’s bed.)
DEAN (Kisses her.) How you feelin’, hon?
MAIA Anxious. I know, that’s bad for the baby, but I can’t help it. After last time–
DEAN This won’t be like last time.
MAIA I lost that baby right after I gave birth, Dean. We were that close, so what makes this time any different? (No response.) I told you: we should’ve been more careful.
DEAN Hey, you and I are meant to be parents; it’s bound to happen. I promise you: it will happen.
MAIA Wanna know what else is bound to happen?
SAM Maybe none of this is helping, Maia. Your blood pressure and all…
MAIA Anyway, I think I found us a case, but I guess I’m left behind doing research.
DEAN Whaddaya got?
MAIA A college freshman class was out for their annual camping trip for orientation. During these backcountry breaks, they always divide into much smaller groups with team leaders, who are typically seniors. Anyway, they were halfway through their trip when one of the groups was attacked by a “massive, hairy beast that sounded like a bear, but bigger.”
SAM Wendigo?
MAIA That’s what I’m thinking.
DEAN So I guess it’s good you’re sitting this one out, hon.
MAIA (With a glare): Yeah. Whatever.
SAM Ok then, let’s hit the road.
DEAN You want me to call your mother?
MAIA Shit, she’s out of town this week…
CASTIEL I’ll stay behind and take care of you, and then teleport back and forth if I need to.
DEAN Thanks, Cass.
CUT TO:
EXT. SHOT – FOREST – CABIN
INT. CABIN
Sam and Dean are talking through the case. Sam sits at the table with his laptop open in front of him while Dean is on his feet, leaning on the back end of the couch. They are confused and concerned, especially Dean.
SAM What’s going on, dude? You’re completely out of it.
DEAN I shouldn’t be here, Sam. I just can’t help but feel like I have to be at home with her. I mean, what if she’s right?
SAM (Shuts his laptop closed.) Yeah, I know. It sucks. But there’s not much you can do from here. Cass is looking out for her.
DEAN (Takes out his cell.) I’m just going to give her a call.
SAM Dean, no. Just let her rest, man.
The brothers look at each other. Dean’s eyes admit that Sam’s right. He puts his phone away.
DEAN Cass? Cass!
SAM What–?
We hear wings flapping. It’s Castiel, answering Dean’s call. Dean looks into his mournful eyes. He didn’t expect such a reaction, so it had to mean something.
DEAN Cass…what happened?
CASTIEL I’m sorry. There was so much blood…
DEAN (Urgency level spiked.) Whoawhoawhoa, “blood”? Whose blood?
CASTIEL It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop it.
DEAN Cass, just GIVE ME SOME DAMN ANSWERS, MAN!
CASTIEL (Tearfully.) I’m so sorry, Dean…
DEAN Take me to her.
SAM Dean…
DEAN Cass, TAKE ME to my WIFE!
Cass looks to Sam for approval. Sam nods, and seconds later, Cass and Dean vanish.
CUT TO:
INT. BUNKER – INFIRMARY
A morose Maia lies on the bed, on her side, eyes puffy, hands over her belly. Dean approaches her and holds her. She sobs in his arms.
MAIA It wasn’t enough.
DEAN Shh…I know. I’m sorry.
MAIA I hate you. I hate you for making me go through this again.
DEAN (Trying to hide his pain from this comment.) I know, honey. I hate me, too.
They stay like this for a beat or two, until Dean lets go.
DEAN (Cont’d.) What do you need? What can I do?
MAIA I don’t know, Dean. Go back to work. Sam needs you.
DEAN You need me more.
MAIA I don’t know if I want you here. Just go.
DEAN Maia–
MAIA Dean, I can’t look at you right now. Just get outta here.
DEAN I love you. I’ll be back soon. (Goes back to Castiel, who’s his ride back to the woods.)
CASTIEL I’m sure she doesn’t mean it. She’s just projecting.
DEAN Just zap me back to Sam.
Cass touches Dean’s left shoulder and they disappear, leaving Maia to grieve alone.
CUT TO:
INT. CABIN
Sam has been eagerly waiting for Cass to return, but tries to hide his surprise seeing his brother back so soon.
DEAN Where are we at with the Fang?
SAM The…Wendigo?
DEAN Right. That. Where we at?
Sam looks at Cass, asking for some form of explanation. Cass shakes his head.
SAM Um, well, there was another attack.
DEAN What? How? I thought the park was closed.
SAM A newlywed couple had apparently snuck in for their honeymoon. They wanted to fulfill their goal in…consummating their marriage in a tent while camping, and they didn’t want to wait.
DEAN Jesus…ok, let’s go check it out.
SAM You sure?
DEAN Sam. Spare me your pity. I just need to work. She wants me to work, so…let me.
SAM Dean, you’re in shock. You should take a breath and let it–
DEAN Let it what, Sam? Huh? Let it rot? Let it fester? Gonna tell me to “be like Elsa” and let it go? I should be at home right now, being there for my wife who I’m sure is in excruciating pain, but no. She hates me. That’s a quote. She hates me so much she doesn’t want to see my face. Instead, she wants me to keep working the case, so now I’m stuck here with you, when that’s the last thing I want to do.
CASTIEL (Before Dean gets further down the rabbit hole.) DEAN! Walk away.
Dean looks at both Sam and Cass. He cracks up as his body collapses. Cass catches him, but Dean nudges him away. His tearful laughter becomes somber bawling as he exits the building. He sits down on the front steps and weeps into his hands.
Meanwhile inside, the other two talk.
SAM Is it too late?
CASTIEL I couldn’t stop the bleeding. Dr. Madison checked her out again. She…she scheduled Maia for a…procedure to take the baby out before it gets infected.
SAM How did this happen?
CASTIEL I shouldn’t say.
SAM (Suspiciously.) Cass…what the hell happened?
CASTIEL (Mutters so Dean can’t overhear.) She did this to herself, Sam. I went to get her something to eat, and when I came back, she was on her feet, bleeding; she said something about taking control and…
Dean calls out my name. I try to respond, the last moment I had with him, playing in a loop in my mind. I saw him falling, drowning into an abyss. Is he okay? How did he get out? Where’s Sammy?
Thump-thump…
I make one last attempt at croaking his name, but nothing comes out. Only a panicked whimper. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. What is happening? Somebody save me. I can feel myself fading. Where’s Sam? Why can’t Dean get to me? What comes next for me? I need help. Someone call 911.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee–
Suddenly, I feel light. I could finally breathe again. I wake up in an empty surgical suite. I’m on the table, and wonder if this is where my physical body might be. Am I in surgery after a Hunt gone bad? Why am I here in this particular room. Oddly enough, I am not hooked up to anything. It’s just me, the table, the hospital gown I’m wearing, and the door to the hallway right next to me. I painlessly shift so my feet could touch the ground. Cautiously, I dip my toe onto the linoleum floor. Cold, but solid.
I set my other foot down and stand up. I smile at my progress. It’s the little victories that matter.
As I step outside my room, I look both ways as if I were crossing the street. Deserted.
“What, did Jesus finally stop by?” I audibly wonder. “Where the hell is everyone?”
“Not exactly,” a voice wheezes behind me. I whirl around, fist up, ready to strike.
This is what I see:
After a beat of absolute shock, the first thing that comes out of my mouth is, “Oh, crap. Am I dead? I have to be, if you’re here. It’s either that or this is a hallucination and I’m going to wake up any minute now from whatever blow knocked me out in the first place, so whatever this is, it’s only temporary–“
My adoptive father, John, smugly replies, “I wouldn’t jump so quickly to that conclusion if I were you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask suspiciously.
“You think this is all an illusion? Like it’s some kind of warped reality meant to make you feel safe here now that you’re nearly dead?” Dead? “Casey…you’re halfway there.”
But this looks nothing like the Purgatory Dean described, I think.
“That’s because that was Dean’s Purgatory,” John says out loud. “This..” John gestured all around us. “…is yours.”
Great, the bastard can read my mind.
“You bet your ass this bastard can.” John smirked.
Yeah, that’ll never get old, I continued thinking despite this newfound awareness that he’d be able to hear it in his own mind.
John ignores my last comment and says, “Why do you think I’m here, Case?”
“I don’t know, to guide me to the Light, maybe?”
“That’s not my choice to make.”
“What the hell are you talking about? It’s either my time or it’s not.”
John takes my shoulders so I can look into his eyes. He reiterates, “Itis not…my choice to make, Casey.” He lets go and continues, “So what do you wanna do, kiddo?”
Right after he asks this, I feel the weight falling on my shoulders again, as if bearing the literal heaviness of the question. For one thing, John had never asked me that when he was alive. Not. Fucking. Once. And for another, all the pain I felt when I was alive came swarming back: the blade piercing through my abdomen, which must’ve nicked a lung, since I was literally drowning in my own blood, the exhaustion from trying to take out every Monster as I can before my time.
But was this it? All those Monsters I’ve taken out so far. Was that the biggest impact I would make as a Hunter? The only way out of this Purgatory that I knew was with John, who has always been my guide; the closest person I had to a father. It was the comfortable choice, and I didn’t want to be uncomfortable or in pain any longer. Whatever my kill count was would have to do.
“I think…I want to go with you, John.”
At first, I thought he would support my decision, but John scoffed, “Yeah, no, I’m not letting you do that.”
Typical. John Winchester only gives off the impression that we ever have any choice in the matter, yet even in death, he makes all our choices. He’s the boss: he chooses what we do, how we feel. Just typical.
“Wow, so, obviously, crossing over hasn’t changed you at all,” I snap at him. “I thought this was my choice.”
“You were supposed to choose to fight for your life, Casey. I promise you: it is not your time yet. You need to go back to the Boys.”
I thought to myself, There’s a scab I didn’t intend on pulling at anytime soon, but I guess if I wanna get out of here…
“And then what? Kiss and make up? In case you’ve forgotten, we don’t do that. We fight, ignore each other, let time do its thing and then slowly go back to talking to each other again. Unfortunately, we haven’t had time to do anything yet, so we’re still on Step 2.”
“Do you think any of that matters once you’re gone? They’re not gonna give a flying fuck who was wrong in your little fight. They’ll only care about not being there to save you. But you gotta give them a chance to.”
“And what if I don’t?” I’m not sure if I want to know the answer, but he’s the only person who taught me anything about strength. Growing up Hunting, tolerating pain was something I was good at, thanks to John, but I’d seemingly gotten weaker through the years. He was a shit father, but he was a damn good sergeant.
“Losing you…” John starts, carefully choosing his words. “They are barely breathing. If you die…this will break them. And Dean? You will change who he is if you choose to give up. He’s not gonna want to be around without you there to knock ’em straight. Those boys can’t function without you. You’re the glue of the entire operation.”
“Exactly, and I’m tired, John. I am sick of cleaning up mess after mess, swooping in and saving them, wiping their asses every time they do a shit job.” John chuckles at my wordplay, to which I crack a bit of a smile. “I think it’s my time, John. I think I’m ready.”
“They’re not.” I sighed, since this wasn’t a brilliant revelation. “Besides, all this talk about ‘I think‘. ‘I think I’m ready’, ‘I think it’s my time’, but that’s not the same as knowing. Casey, do you know in your heart that you’re ready to leave them?”
I need a break. I need to think. So I walk away.
The next thing I know, I’m sitting on the floor of the hospital hallway, my face buried in my hands. I feel this overwhelming sense of loss and confusion. I don’t know what to do.
John pops back in front of me, on the same eye level as I am. Again, he has read my mind, because the next thing he says is, “Do wanna know what it’s really like being dead? Will that change your mind?”
I’m listening.
“There’s only so much freedom that comes with death,” John responds. “You can’t be with the people you love–I mean, you can, but they can’t see you. They can feel your presence, but they can’t touch you. Do you realize how aggravating that gets sometimes? That’s all you ever get with them anymore: moments with the people you love. And they’ll move on. And you’ll want them to move on. It becomes this endless cycle of missing each other and then sensing each other. In a way, you both haunt each other.
“Remember the time you and Dean took Sam to go see ‘Jurassic Park’? He was so amazed by the graphics he couldn’t stop talking. That’s what being a ghost feels like: you’re watching someone else’s entire life play out. They may sense you watching them, but you can’t talk to them, and you can’t touch. Does that really sound like a situation you’re ready to be on this side of?”
The man has a point: if that’s the ending we all get anyway, why jump ahead if there’s still a chance to be saved?
“You’re stronger than I am, Case.” This is the first time he’s ever said that to me. He reassures me, “Fight for your life and be with our Boys. I’ll see you when it’s time.”
“But how do I go back, Dad?”
“You’ll figure it out, kid. I’ll see you again soon, just…not this soon.”
He helps me get my butt back onto the table and I lie in a supine position without letting go of his hand. Our hands are clasped together as if we were arm wrestling, which he’d be dominating, since he holds my hand close to his heart. In the background, I hear a Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Dad says, “Breathe, honey. Breathe.”
I take a deep inhale and wake up with a surgical team gathered around my exposed body. I can hear one of the doctors tell the lead surgeon that I was awake and alert, to which she got nasty with the “incompetent” anesthesiologist for not putting me deep enough under.
Then, as quickly as I woke up, I passed out, only to wake up in a hospital bed with Dean holding the hand the way his father had just held it. I smiled and croaked, “Hey, stranger.”
Today was going to be rough, and it didn’t take a Witch to figure out why; just a human being with a heart. I grew up with this guy; changed his diapers and then potty-trained him, gave him the Birds and Bees Talk, showed him how to put on condoms when he confided that he was considering having sex with his girlfriend. I was basically his surrogate mother while his older brother–the love of my life–was his replacement dad. It was wrong for me to see him dying. Sammy was the one who was supposed to bury me. A mother shouldn’t have to bury their child…it’s not…natural…
While driving over to Sam’s house, I went back to the first memory I had of him. He couldn’t have been more than two years old. He begged me to get rid of all the monsters in his room. Dean and I checked all around: under the bed, in the closet…nothing. Ironically, we actually knew what we were looking for, so we knew for a fact we were safe.
After dramatically exhaling of relief, Sammy asked me to sing him his lullaby. This classic rock song was Dean’s favorite, so he offered to sing instead, but Sam wanted my voice. I stuck my tongue out at Dean, and then sat next to Sam. While tucking his covers under the crevices his body made, I said, “Let’s get you all settled in here first. Ok, ready?”
“Yeah!” he said excitedly in his best soprano voice. “Sing it for me!”
I cleared my throat and then sang quietly, “🎵 Carry on my wayward son/There’ll be peace when you are done🎵” (This would be the point where he joins in.) “🎵Lay your weary head to rest/Don’t you cry no more…🎵” Once I finished out the chorus, I kissed the top of his head and whispered, “Sleep tight.”
To which Sammy whispered back, “I’ll see you in the morning light.“
That was our little end-of-night ritual he came up with. He was irrationally afraid of going to sleep and not waking up, so just promising we’d see each other again contained enough power to make it happen. It was a vow not to go in our sleep.
A fear I now had in my heart as I knocked on his door.
His son, Dean, Jr., let me in. I gave him a hug and asked, “How’s he doing?”
“Hanging on,” replied a teary-eyed DJ. “I don’t think he’s got much time left though. Doc says he won’t make it through the night.”
“Ok,” I said with my best comforting smile. “Thanks for calling me.”
“He asked to see you one last time, regardless of what happened last time–“
I didn’t want to think about that, so I had to interject, “I appreciate you making it happen.”
DJ led me into Sam’s room, where his bed was replaced by a gurney. Compared to the baby I first laid eyes on to the elderly man I saw in the present day, I saw he had been through Hell over the years. The burden of everything he saw, and everything he did, was written all over his face like a tattoo of humility and humiliation. As I studied every detail of his face, I fought my hardest to hold back tears. It wasn’t until Sam spoke when I realized he knew I was watching him.
“There she is,” Sam croaked, that strong soprano voice from his youth long gone. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
I sat on his bed and took his hand; a familiar position. I whispered, “Hey, kid…”
“Psh, ‘kid’?” Sam chuckled. “I’m older than you, little lady.”
“You look older than me, but technically, I’m a hundred years older than you, so you’re still ‘kid’ to me.”
“Well…being a Witch has its perks.”
“Right?” I stroked his hand. “How bad is it today?”
Sam let out a weak cough and answered, “Four, so not so bad.” Lie.
“I wish I could help you with the pain.” I couldn’t stand to see him this way. I fumbled around my purse for something. “Like there has to be a spell to–“
“There’s nothing you could do that the drugs aren’t already doing,” Sam promised. “Besides, I didn’t ask you here as a Witch…I wanted you here as my friend.”
Whatever he wanted…this was his night.
“Ok,” I replied, dutifully. “I’m right here.”
Sam winced; confirmation that that “four” was a lie. I know him, so his stoicism was no surprise to me. Ever since we were kids, he didn’t do a very good job at hiding his crush on me. To this day, it was refreshing to see he is still that little boy who wanted to impress me.
“I do have a favor to ask you though,” Sam said.
“Anything, Sammy.”
“Will you sing to me?” The way he looked at me…his eyes had a sadness in them that showed me he knew it was time. There was no Magic telling him this; somehow, his body told him enough was enough, so he listened. “My lullaby?”
For selfish reasons, I was afraid of this. I didn’t know if I was going to make it through just the chorus of this song. I took all the moments Sammy was brave for me: when I had to hold him in my arms while he was getting vaccinated as a baby, when he fell off his bike and was bleeding from his kneecap, when he tried fighting off Lucifer from completely taking over his body. (I know, that escalated quickly, but you get the point.) I summoned up all those moments and tried to match all of his pained courage into my face of feigned fortitude.
I took a deep breath and tucked his blanket underneath the crevices his body made on the bed, and said, “First, we have to make sure you’re all settled in here. Ok…” Again, I selfishly hesitated to make this moment last forever, but I realized the longer I prolonged the inevitable was the longer he’d spend in agony. “You ready?”
“Sing it for me,” Sam whispered as he shut his eyes, prepared to be at eternal peace.
I leaned in closer to his ear and whispered, “I love you so much, and once you’re ready to go, you can let go. Your work is done, Sam. You’ll be reunited with Dad, your mom, Bobby…and best of all…you’ll be with Dean again.” I heard a sob coming from Sam at the final name.
Sam mouthed, “Thank you…”
There was no turning back. The next step was…
“🎵 Carry on my wayward son/There’ll be peace when you are done…🎵”
I waited patiently for him to join in, but was met with more silence.
“🎵Lay your weary head to rest…🎵”
I hadn’t noticed the heart monitor beeping–I suppose I drowned it out–until it emitted this ugly, single note of death. It was evil, interrupting our moment like an off-pitch prima donna, who just wanted her moment in the spotlight. I jumped, not at the volume, but the sheer heaviness of the reality had finally sunk in.
Don’t you cry no more…
I kissed the top of his head and rested my forehead against his. I whispered, finally letting the tears start rolling, “Sleep tight. I’ll see you in another life.”
It was dawn. While Sammy was sound asleep in bed, Dean sat at the table, eagerly waiting. He tapped his foot, checking his watch, and then read the clock on the wall, as if that would present a different result. He tried not to get worried, since this was typical of her nowadays. Her only job tonight was to stay at the motel, help Sam with his homework, and tuck him into bed. It took Sam calling Dean in the middle of a Hunt to realize she’d done literally none of that, and he had to make up some excuse with Dad, so he didn’t find out what she’d been up to. Dean picked up the phone and was about to dial her number until…
Alison staggered in, the stench of smoke and alcohol looming from her body. Eau de Barroom Brawl by Calvin Klein, thought Dean, smirking to himself.
“Where the hell have you been?” he asked, trying to keep it quiet, so as not to wake up his little brother.
“Out,” Alison replied, smugly.
“That’s it? ‘Out?'”
“I’m an adult, Dean. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” Alison pushed past him.
Dean grabbed her arm to stop her and forced her to look at him. He said, “Don’t give me that shit. I’ve had it with your attitude as of late. It’s getting in the way of school and work, and now you put Sammy’s life at risk by leaving him alone in the middle of the night? What the hell is the matter with you, Ali?”
Alison scoffed and said, “Waitwaitwait, let’s go back to my ‘attitude as of late’ part. Since when do you talk like that?”
While she continued cracking up as if she had never heard of anything funnier in her life, Dean said, “I’ve had it with you, Ali. You’re hurting. Even I can see that, and…” He sighed, struggling to get out this next part, as if it were life-or-death, but she had to know one way or another. He continued, “I know things with us…we’ve been hurting each other ever since the breakup, and I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done that causes you to act this way. I love you, and if I’d known you’d end up–Ali…I need you to quit drinking. Alright? Your family needs you to quit.”
“‘My family’, huh?” All Alison could hear was Dean lying through his teeth (again), trying to manipulate her into doing something he wanted. Calling her a part this “family” was just one of those fibs he’d tell to get her to cave, to appeal to her feminine emotions. It was his favorite one to use, she’d noticed, to the point where it had just become habit. To him, the word was obsolete.
Just like that, all the pent-up rage she had inside her, from everything Dean had done to her, came out in one spiteful speech: “I have no family. You’ve never treated me like family–I mean, do you even know what that means? ‘Family’? It means you love and support each other; protect one another. Yeah, you may hate each other, but that’s because you love each other to pieces, that’s just how it goes. They don’t use each other for their own personal gain, or dump their deadweight kids onto someone else. And, y’know, I wonder when was the last time you used your family, Dean? Oh, that’s right, last week, when you dumped me like I was a piece of garbage.
“You know why I’m like this now, Dean? Because of you. You sold me out to that Witch, and then Dad had to swoop in and save me.”
“How many ways can I explain that?” Dean exclaimed defensively. “I sold you out, so Dad could save you.”
“And that made sense to you??”
“At the time, yes! You’re the one who had your phone on you, right? He was able to track you and take out that bitch!”
Dean had forgotten about the quiet time he was trying to enforce, because even Alison had told him to shush. He scoffed at the irony and continued, “Wow. So you did notice Sammy in the background. I thought he was just deadweight to you.”
“No, he’s not the deadweight, Dean…I am. From the way you treat me.”
And just like that, she dragged her body into the bathroom to wash up. Sam, who had been pretending to sleep the whole time, sat up and pouted at Dean, frightened by all the yelling. When Dean noticed this, he gave him his best, “sorry, bud” face and picked up the phone again.
“Who’re you calling, Dean?” Sam asked, trying to breathe evenly.
“Someone I never thought I’d want to talk to…”
Dean agreed to meet him at a nearby park. Public, with tons of witnesses in case the situation turned sour. He waited patiently next to a group of girls his age, who were making googly eyes at him. With all the drama with Ali, he’d forgotten what it was like to relax with a girl and just have fun. He missed that, but he had no interest in any of those other girls. He only had eyes for her.
Only the guy she was interested in was just pulling up to meet him. Dean stood up and gave a cursory nod as a way of thanking him for showing up.
Tony parked right in front of Dean and didn’t even give him a handshake, which was fair, considering the last time why were within six feet of each other was when they tried to knock each other out. Tony just cut right to the chase: “What’s this about Ali now?”
“Her drinking. It’s causing a problem with the family dynamic at home,” Dean explained. “I was hoping you could help me convince her to get some help.”
“From what I’ve heard, the only family you care about is the ones you’re related to.” As a representative of Alison’s, Tony felt the need to establish his allegiance. “You’re just coming to me because it affects your needs, when at the end of the day, you’d leave her out in the sun to rot.”
“Well, fuck you too, buddy, but I’m trying to tell you we’re on the same side here, bro,” Dean was getting desperate. Something told him to reach out to him, which Tony did not approve of.
Tony had backed away and shoved Dean in response, saying, “I’m not your bro, Winchester.”
Dean held his hands up, indicating a truce. He continued, “I’m sorry. Look, man, I’m not here to fight, alright? This is about Ali and getting her the help she needs. She’s going down a dark path, and I’m scared of what’s gonna happen if we don’t do something about it.” Dean tried to keep a brave face, but his voice had a mind of its own, since it got shaky at the mention of how scared he really was for her. “So what do you say? You in?”
Dean offered his hand, and after careful consideration, Tony shook it and said, “Let’s go take care of our girl.”
Tony had texted Ali, so she should’ve been on her way to the library. He booked them a private meeting room; she was under the assumption that they were there to hook up, but when she saw her ex there, she had a feeling they weren’t there to propose a threesome.
“Son of a bitch…” she said as soon as she saw Dean step out from behind a mobile whiteboard.
“Hear us out, Al,” begged Dean as Tony snuck up between her and the door.
“What is this?” Alison demanded as she crossed her arms.
“You have a problem, baby,” Tony stated.
“You need help,” agreed Dean.
Alison shook her head and rubbed her eyes. She was itching to get out, so she replied, “Alright then, what’s it gonna take for me to skip this lecture and be on my merry way? Huh? Who do I have to blow? I’d be happy to take either of you. Or both. I’ve got two holes down there, fellas. I can take you both at the same time. What do you say, boys?”
“For Christ sake, are you hearing yourself?” Dean broke. “Alison, you are literally whoring yourself out as a get-outta-jail-free card right now!”
“Whoa, Dean…” Tony tried to talk down his former nemesis.
He couldn’t take it anymore. There was something she needed to hear and Dean wasn’t gonna keep it from her this time. She had to know how royally she screwed up.
“No, I’ve had it, Ali, I mean it.” Dean felt himself getting choked up, but he had to push past it. If tiptoeing around her about it wasn’t going to wake her up, then maybe just airing his grievances–unfiltered–would knock some sense into the woman. “You think you’re just hurting your own body by torturing yourself this way, you’re wrong. This hurts me, it hurts Tony, it even hurts Sam. Yeah, you thought you were being all secretive about it with him, but he knows. He knows how much you’re hurting, because he sees that you are destroying yourself. Coming home so late at night it ends up early morning, stealing vodka from the minibar and refilling it with water… That shit hurts all of us, Ali. And I don’t want any part of it any longer. I’m done. So you either get your shit together starting right now, or we’re leaving town without you, and you’re on your own. It’s your choice, sweetheart.”
Ali made a piss-poor attempt at preventing her tears from falling. He was right. She was just lying to herself, and she was the only one getting fooled. She finally allowed herself to break down and wrapped her arms around Dean where she felt most at home. (This act confirmed something in Tony, which he had kept to himself.)
“I’m so sorry, Dean,” whispered Alison. “I know I’m so fucked up inside.” Step 1 out of 12 achieved.
“Shh, no, you’re not. It’s not you.” Dean kissed her head. “Listen, next town, we’ll find an AA meeting and we can go to one together. How’s that sound?”
Ali smiled, feeling like she finally had her old life back, with Dean at her side. She said, “Yeah, let’s do it.”
“Yeah?”
“I wanna get better.”
“Ok,” Dean smiled victoriously and looked into her eyes. He saw the life in them again, and knew she was back. Right when they felt a kiss coming, they heard a cough next to them. Crap, Tony…Dean thought.
“It’s good. I’m good. Looks like you got this, so I’m just gonna…head out.” Right before Tony took off however, he looked at them in defeat and offered his hand. He said, “Take care of her, Dean.”
Dean looked at the hand with the slightest bit of skepticism, but trusted that they had some form of bond over this. He shook Tony’s hand; a gentleman’s promise.
Another guy goes right into the breakup file in my permanent record. Is it me? Am I the one who attracts loser guys? Whatever happened to just having fun, for fuck’s sake (literally)? Why do they keep saying things like they wanna settle down and have kids? I thought I was the girl.
Ok, so with this last guy, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. He just turned out to be gay, which is fine–I’ll march in any pride parade you need me to be a part of–but if you can’t get it up for me, don’t waste my time when I have no chance of getting into your pants.
I need sex. I’ve been under this dry spell for as long as I can remember. In fact, I think the last time I had sex was when I lost my virginity; it’s been that long. I’m so desperate that the next guy I see, I’ll bang him right here.
Kelly turned to her left and saw a hairy guy with a beer belly, who honestly didn’t seem to be in any condition to be out. She heard his slurred speech to his other neighbor, and knew tonight wasn’t gonna be his lucky night; with or without that stomach.
To her right was a much prettier sight. The guy had already been gazing at her with his dreamy, green eyes. She couldn’t help but blush. He took this as a sign, and whispered in her ear, “Name’s Dean Winchester.“
“Kelly,” she said. “Kelly Madison.”
“Nice to meet you, Kelly Kelly Madison,” Dean said. “What are you drinking tonight?”
“Vodka rocks,” she said while downing her drink, maintaining eye contact with him.
“I agree,” Dean lifted his own drink to say cheers and chugged his own.
Kelly dropped the act and said, “Why don’t we cut to the chase, Dean? I know what you want, and you know what I want, and we both know we’ve got the same goal, so let’s cut the bullshit.”
Impressed, Dean muttered, “Yes, ma’am”, but he already found himself staggering out after her, after laying down a few bills for the bartender.
Kelly led him into the alley and into the shadows. They both giggled like high schoolers who snuck out of the prom, about to lose their V-cards to each other. Dean and Kelly made out against the brick wall. She let out an affectionate moan as she felt the urgency in his kisses. It was finally happening.
He unbuttoned her jeans and slid his fingers down her front, but she stopped him, whispering, “No need. I’m already wet.”
Without a second thought, he turned her around and lowered his pants as she took off her own. He positioned himself behind her, which was when she guided him into the correct entryway.
Seconds later, she felt something familiar inside her body, and it was exhilarating. With each grunt of effort from his throat came a stronger sense of excitement. Kelly didn’t realize how loud she was until Dean shushed her and put his hand over her mouth, to which she laughed apologetically. He kissed her neck in forgiveness as he continued pumping himself inside her, concentrating on making sure she felt good.
“You OK?” he asked, now placing both hands on her pelvis for easier positioning.
“Uh-huh, don’t stop.”
He took that as a challenge to go faster, to which she squeaked out a passionate whine. Kelly never fully understood the meaning of hot and heavy until now. They were both breathing so deeply yet unevenly. All they wanted was the one thing they were here for.
“C’mon,” said Dean, feeling the tension building up inside him. He was hungry for more, so he pounded faster.
From the sound of her voice, she was almost there too. Just seconds away if he could…just…
Kelly faced behind her and kissed Dean, during which, they both let out a frustrated, “Mmmm.”
“I’m so close, Kelly,” whispered Dean. They stared into each other’s eyes, not wanting to make that big finish without the other person.
“Finger me, Dean,” Kelly begged. He did as he was told, which sped up her internal process. She tightened her legs and whimpered as she knew she was past the point of no return.
Just a few seconds later and they would finally arrive as one. Dean bit his lip as he let out a groan as Kelly uttered a satisfying “ahh…”
By the time their heads got quiet, as they were catching their breath, Dean shifted around inside her a few more times for good measure. Once it was settled and he pulled out of her, she turned and leaned her back against the wall. He kissed her the way she always wanted to be kissed: like she was desired.
She then took his fingers–the ones that touched her–and sucked on them.
Dean grinned and said, “You taste good, baby?”
Kelly smiled and nodded. She said, “I really needed that tonight.”
As ABBY exits the bathroom with two towels on her person: one wrapped around her body and the other on her head, shaped like a turban. Meanwhile, DEAN is sitting at the table, scanning through news articles, trying to find their next case.
ABBY Anything?
DEAN Not a bite.
ABBY Really? Not even a nibble?
DEAN I thought there was, when I read about a dad who shot and killed his family, and then himself.
ABBY And? It wasn’t possession?
DEAN I looked into the family. They had a history of domestic violence, and the husband? Lost their life savings during a weekend in Vegas.
ABBY So…guess we have a few days off.
DEAN Guess so.
ABBY What do you wanna do?
DEAN Oh, I think you know what I wanna do. 😏
ABBY (reading his mind) No…
DEAN Yes…
ABBY Seriously, dude?
DEAN Ha! I’m putting the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob.
ABBY I’ll put some clothes on.
DEAN Where are we again?
ABBY Little Rock, AR.
DEAN It’s on Channel 21.
ABBY I can’t believe we’re going to watch Scooby Doo together.
DEAN Believe it, baby!
ABBY You’re a grown-ass man, Dean!
DEAN Shut up! I’m a little kid at heart!
ABBY (muttering to herself) Can’t believe we ever considered getting married.
DEAN What?
ABBY Nothing. (Tosses him the TV remote.) Channel 21.
DEAN (quietly mimicking a crowd) Channel twenty-oooooone!
CLAUDETTE exits her front steps, with her hands up. She is in shock. When she looks up to see Sam and Dean, she sees them as faces she recognizes, but doesn’t register who they are exactly. The boys slowly approach her, not having any clue what they were walking into, or what state she was in.
DEAN Claudette…put the knife down. You don’t need it.
CLAUDETTE (Drops the knife.) I just had to. There was no other way.
DEAN Sweetie, where’s your wife?
CLAUDETTE I just had to. There was no other way.
DEAN Claudette!
SAM Dean, she’s in shock. I’m gonna scan the house and make sure it’s all clear.
DEAN I’ll stay here with her.
SAM Ok. (Enters the house, gun drawn.)
DEAN Honey, I’m gonna need you to tell me what happened. Did she hurt you?
CLAUDETTE I had to. There was no other choice.
DEAN It’s ok. You’re ok. (He pulls her in for a hug.)
Minutes later, Sam pops out of the house and approaches the two on the front lawn.
DEAN (CONT’D) How’s it look in there?
SAM Not good. It’s bloody; she stabbed her too many times to count.
CLAUDETTE (with urgency, as if defending her actions) I had to. There was no other choice!
SAM I know. Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.
DEAN Sam, we gotta get her outta here; get her someplace safe before the cops figure out what happened and come after her.
SAM Are you sure? If she just turns herself in, they’ll grant her leniency.
DEAN Look at who her wife was, Sam! One of the richest, most powerful people in town, who made huge donations to everybody! They’d crucify Claudette, and I’m not taking that chance!
SAM What would you suggest then? We fake her death and she gets stuck with us for the rest of her life?
DEAN (snaps as a lightbulb flashes on.) YES!
SAM No, Dean, I didn’t mean–
DEAN It’s been working swimmingly so far for us, so there’s no reason why it wouldn’t work out for her too!
SAM Dean…
DEAN Sam…we have to make this work.
SAM What’s your connection with her?
DEAN (looks at a barely lucid Claudette) I was her last guy…before she, y’know…found herself.
SAM (amused) Wait…so you’re saying you’re the guy who made her realize she was into women?
DEAN (sneers) That’s not how that works, and you know it.
SAM I know; still a funny way to look at it.
DEAN You done? ‘Cuz we got ourselves a sticky situation here.
Right on cue, they hear sirens in the distance.
DEAN (CONT’D) Shhhhit…
SAM Alright, no time to set up the crime scene here. Let’s take her car, so we can make up a suicide by driving it over a cliff or something.
DEAN Where’s the nearest one?
SAM Just a few miles that way. Just follow me.
With that, they brought Claudette with them, and took off for the fateful cliff that would send Claudette’s car over, ending her current life as Claudette Robinson. At the site, Sam put the vehicle in neutral, which was when Dean helped him push it towards the ledge, after looking around, making sure they left no witnesses.
They didn’t have time to wait around and watch the car beautifully crash against the waves, and into its watery grave; not if they wanted to take Claudette with them to the Bunker, where she would live out her life under a pseudonym.
As expected, the local authorities assumed that she had offed herself after killing her abusive wife. To be totally frank, they didn’t do a lot of digging; the entire town was just relieved to be rid of the most powerful woman in their town. To her, with great power comes great responsibility to be greatly feared. They were proud that, whatever happened of Claudette Robinson, she was finally free.
A 20-year-old SAM WINCHESTER exits the stall and holds the phone between his ear and his shoulder, so he can wash his hands. He doesn’t notice yet, but there is a mysterious taller figure looking at him.
SAM (on the phone): Hey, babe, it’s me! Yeah, just got done with my last class. Wanna head to the Caf to grab a bite before Debate? Sweet, I’ll meet you there. What? Yeah, a little better. I’m still feeling iffy about it though. I’ll tell you about it at dinner. Bye.
With perfect timing, Sam puts his phone away after drying his hands. But the tall, mysterious man, doesn’t let him exit the restroom. Sam notices this guy is towering over him.
SAM: Excuse me.
MYSTERY MAN: Sorry, I just need to talk to you for one quick minute.
SAM: Ok… Who are you, exactly?
MYSTERY MAN: I’m you from the future. I just came back in time on a Hunt, and just needed to drop by.
SAM: Prove it.
MYSTERY MAN: Um…Ok…you have Debate Society tonight with Jessica, your girlfriend. In fact, that’s how you met.
SAM: I’ve told a lot of people that. That doesn’t prove anything besides the fact that you can talk to my friends.
MYSTERY MAN: The topic you’ll be assigned is over shows rated MA and your argument will be over why there should be no restrictions on what we watch on television.
SAM: I’m not gonna know that until I get there. Try again.
MYSTERY MAN (sighs): The last fight you had with Dad…yeah, that one…you’ve said a lot of things you didn’t mean. You want him to know that, but both of you are just too damn stubborn to make it right.
Sam believes him now. This is ADULT SAM.
ADULT SAM: I never told anybody about that night. Not at this point in time, because there was nobody to tell. Nobody who knew about the life.
YOUNG SAM: Ok then…I’ll bite. What are you doing here?
AS: I’m here to tell you how it all ends.
YS: How what all ends?
AS: Dean.
YS: What?
AS: I’m 37 years old. I’ve been Hunting with Dean ever since the end of my senior year in college, because my girlfriend Jessica, had died. Over the years, Dean and I, we’ve been through a ton of shit, but at the end of the day, we knew we always had each other, because we were brothers. Last week, a Vamp nest took Dean out. We were at this old barn and one of them slammed him against a wooden pole. Little did we know that there was a rusty piece of rebar sticking out. That’s what got him. It just lodged in his spine. We’ve been beaten, stabbed, tortured, possessed, shot, even killed once or twice.
YS: What the f…
AS: But we always found a way back, because God…this asshole named Chuck…was controlling our story all along. He always found a way to get us out of those sticky situations, except this happened after Chuck lost his power, so I lost my brother.
YS: Is all this true?
AS: Yes.
YS: Wow. (Sighs) That’s a really shitty ending…
AS: I know.
YS: So what now?
AS: That’s what I have to figure out.
YS: You said this law school stuff…it doesn’t pan out? I’m here working my ass off, only to find that I’m just gonna get back to Hunting with my dad and brother?
AS: Yeah. But don’t let that discourage you, Sam. In fact, it’s your determination to lead a normal life; that’s what reassures them that you can survive without them. Which I guess is something I personally needed to hear, too. Dad knows that you don’t need him…just like I don’t need Dean.
YS: I still kinda miss them though.
AS: Me too.
They look into each other’s eyes and share a mutual understanding.
AS (cont’d): I don’t have much time left. (He offers his hand.) Take care, Sammy.
YS: You too. (Adult Sam smiles as they shake hands.) Wait, did you just call me “Sammy”?
AS: Yeah?
YS: Don’t. Only Dean gets to call me that.
AS: 😒
YS: 😏 See ya!
As Adult Sam vanishes, Young Sam finds himself grasping onto air, finding validation from the most unexpected of choices.
(Open to Heather entering the library, seeing Jack reading Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. He hasn’t been on this Earth for more than a couple years, so, of course, he expected this to be quality writing just because a few thousand teenagers loved it when it was popular. Heather almost gagged when she saw the front cover, and took the book away from him, despite Jack’s protesting the action.)
HEATHER: I don’t care why you decided to pick up this piece of vampire dreck. You cannot put yourself through another word of this. (She uses her magic to literally make it disappear into the depths of Hell where it belongs, and takes a seat on the desk next to him.) Why were you reading it?
JACK: I thought you said you didn’t care.
HEATHER: Curiosity killed the cat.
JACK: How? Did it test gravity and plummet to its death? That’s very sad…
HEATHER: It’s…a phrase people say.
JACK: There’s a girl, and she’s into all this romance novel stuff, and I haven’t the slightest idea where to start. I figured if I read the kind of books she was into, I’d find some…inspiration.
HEATHER: First off, if this girl is into Twilight, you can do better.
JACK: Well, I just learned a few seconds ago that, apparently, she hates Twilight.
(It doesn’t take a genius to realize what Jack just said.)
HEATHER: (Clears her throat and takes out her phone.) You wanna learn how to be romantic?
JACK: Please.
(Heather picks a song that reminds her of the guy she’s in love with. Through her phone’s speakers, we can hear the intro to Hunter Hayes’ “Wanted”. She sets her mini boom box down on Jack’s desk and invites him to stand up with her. He obeys as she demonstrates how she wants the placement of his hands. Once he’s comfortable with both hands on her waist, she gently puts her own palms on his shoulders.)
HEATHER: The key to a woman’s heart is through music. Now, you can do what you want with it, like learn a song on an instrument, serenade her with it; even better, you can write it yourself to show her how much you think about her, that way, she knows how you really feel. But the easiest way in, if you’re feeling spontaneous, is through dance. It’s genius: you can have two left feet and still find a way to win her over.
JACK: Yes, I’ve heard of people with two left feet. It must be hard to walk.
HEATHER: Shh, Jack. Just listen to the lyrics. Feel the beat. Allow it to flow through you, into your ears and down your spine. Your feet will follow. Hunter Hayes is the boss. All you have to do is listen. (After a couple minutes to get the swaying down…) You ready?
JACK: To do what?
HEATHER: (As if her question was rhetorical.) Lead. Show me how you want my body to respond.
JACK: (With a nervous sigh.) OK…
HEATHER: You’ve got the power now. It’s all you.
HUNTER HAYES: 🎵 And I just wanna wrap you up/Wanna kiss your lips/I wanna make you feel wanted/Yeah, I wanna make you feel wanted/Baby, I wanna make you feel wanted/You’ll always be wanted 🎵
(Suddenly, Jack’s eyes give off that golden glow. Heather knows this is a sign he’s about to lose some type of control. She tries not to be scared, since she knows Jack wouldn’t intentionally hurt her…except when his power swells up inside him, there’s no telling what he’s going to do.)
HEATHER: Jack…
(He’s about to give in to some sort of impulse, but nothing to worry about. The song compels him to kiss her lips, just like Hunter Hayes said. It was literally in the chorus of the song, so that had to be a sign, right? He had to kiss Heather. He’d never Wanted anything so badly in his two-year life.)
Why are you still crying?Dean asked himself. Stop crying. There is no reason to be so upset.
He was genuinely baffled by why he felt like breaking down in the woods. He was doing it in private, so it wasn’t for attention. For once in his life, Dean Winchester could say he was happy, finally getting everything he ever asked for: the lifelong partner, the twins were just born, and yet ever since they arrived, he has felt this postpartum depression. But that can’t be it, he thought. Only chicks get that. This has to be something else, and the tears won’t stop coming. There’s no way to stop it. There is no way to stop it.
Suddenly, from behind, someone cleared their throat, causing Dean to jump up and ball his dominant hand into a fist, ready to attack. Once he saw it was just Sammy, he relaxed, but abruptly looked away, trying to avoid letting his kid brother see him so broken.
“Dean. Look at me.” Sam took both of Dean’s shoulders, so it was less of an effort to make eye contact. Despite this, Dean looked at the base of the tree closest to them. “Dean…”
After a few beats where he struggled to choose between hiding his tears and letting go, Dean stared into his brother’s eyes, still hesitant on showing his truly fragile form. He had to say something to Sam, just to get him off his back. I’m fine, Sammy. Get back to the Bunker. I’ll be there in a minute. But for some reason, none of those words came out. Instead, he felt another sob coming and guessed his body made the decision for him regarding his tearful dilemma; it allowed him to feel.
Perhaps that’s all he really needed. To feel whatever emotions were running through him. They didn’t need justification. Having those feelings were validation enough to face the fact that something was wrong. He couldn’t help but think the issue was from something wrong with him, and he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to stop it.
“It’s OK, Dean,” Sam continued while giving his big brother a hug. Their whole lives, Dean was the stoic one, the one who was strong enough for the both of them. Well, today, it was Sammy’s turn to look out for Dean. “You wanna talk?”
“I don’t know why I feel this way, Sammy; I just do, and I don’t know why. I mean, I’m the happiest I’ve been in…forever, so why do I feel so badly about it? I don’t regret my family, I don’t hate my kids, yet I hate myself enough to want to–” Dean buried his face in his hands. “What is the matter with me that I can’t feel the way I’m supposed to feel?”
Sam let go of Dean and assured him, “Dean, there’s nothing wrong with you. What you’re going through? It’s your chemical imbalance that’s fucking you up, it’s not you. Trust me. The Dean I know would be proud of the life he’s built.”
“So what are you saying, that I’m not myself?”
“No, Dean, you’re not. You just need some help to get yourself back. Go to therapy, maybe they can prescribe you some pills or something, and there is nothing wrong with that. I will say it as many times as you need to hear it, to get it through your head. But you’ll be back, I promise you that.”
Dean sniffled, finally able to voluntarily lock eyes with Sam. They know each other well enough to know that whatever they were saying through their microexpressions could be left unsaid. For the brothers anyway. Sam had faith in Dean; Dean trusted Sam.
“Thanks, Sammy,” said Dean.
Sam pulled him in for another hug and said, “Don’t mention it.”
Rowena Whispers 