I'm Not Strong Enough to Stay Away

Sam and I stuck to our decision to keep our knowledge of the pregnancy a secret from Dean and Ella. They would tell us on their own time—what little of it we had left. Meanwhile, we had much more important things to do.

“So was I right?” Bobby asked as Sam, Dean, and Cas exited the building.

“As always, Yoda,” Dean confirmed with a roll of his eyes. “Two stunt demons inside, just like you said.”

“Did you get it?” I asked, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah, all the go-juice Sammy can drink.” He stared at me with reluctance and disgust in his eyes, and I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. I knew this was taking its toll on him. Not only was he about to lose his brother, but he was also about to see him chugging an assload of demon
blood.

“Ya okay, honey?” Ella asked him, twining her fingers through his.

“Not really,” he said nonchalantly, then focused his attention on Bobby. “What d’you got?”

Bobby shuffled through the papers he was holding, scanning them for important information. “Not much,” he said. “These look like omens to you? Cyclone in Florida, temperature drop in Detroit, wildfires in L.A….”

“Wait,” Dean stopped him, an apprehensive look in his eye. “What about Detroit?”

Bobby gave him a weird look, then said, “Temp’s dropped about twenty degrees, but only in a five-block radius of downtown Motown.”

“That’s the one,” Dean said, his voice full of certainty. “Devil’s in Detroit.”

“Really?” Bobby asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Far as foreboding goes, it’s a little light in the loafers. Ya sure?”

Dean glanced at his brother, who was helping Cas load the jugs of blood into the trunk of the Impala. Sam returned the look with confusion, then Dean turned away. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asked as he walked over to us, Cas following behind him like a lost puppy. 'He does kinda have that look… It’s awfully cute.'

“Dean knows where Luci’s gonna be,” I told him, and Dean smirked at my shortening of Lucifer’s name.

“And where’s that?”

“Detroit—where else?” Dean broke in.

“Oh.” Sam fell silent and looked at the ground.

“So, ready to head out?” Dean asked. I shrugged noncommittally and Sam gave a firm nod.

“Wait a sec!” Ella protested. “D'we have to go straight there? Are we that eager to die? We can just stop somewhere halfway; it’s gonna take us drivin’ all night to get there, anyway—why not stop at a motel or somethin’?”

“I agree with Ella.” I looked at Sam pleadingly, and I could tell he was with Ella and me.

“Okay…” Dean said slowly, glancing at Bobby and Cas for approval.

“I don’t see the point in delaying the inevitable end,” Cas said, “but I’m not eager to die.”

“Bobby?”

The older hunter sighed. “Sure, we’ll find somewhere.”

“Alright,” Dean said. “Cas, you’re gonna have to ride with Bobby. C’mon, Ella.” He started walking toward the Impala and totally missed the hurt look that the former angel gave him.

Bobby saw it, though. With a look of amusement on his face, he said, “Why don’t ya let the angel—uh, man—ride with ya? I’m an old geezer—I’d just bore him to death with stories of the good ol’ days.”

Castiel perked up immediately, turning to stare pleadingly at Dean. His obvious bond with Dean was kind of funny, but also quite adorable.

Dean sighed. “Alright, fine. Ella, Gari, make some room for the angel.” 'Former angel,' I mentally corrected, but I didn’t say anything, afraid of hurting Cas’s feelings.

We all piled into the Impala, Sam and Dean in the front, as always, and Ella, Cas, and me in the back. We waved goodbye to Bobby, who had agreed to follow us, and drove off.

Ella and Cas were snoring within the first couple of hours, Ella leaning against the left window and Cas against the right. Dean glanced into the rearview mirror and grinned. “Aw, ain’t he a little angel?” he said with a babyish voice.

“Angels don’t sleep, Dean,” I reminded him quietly, leaning forward and crossing my arms on the back of the front seat.

The brothers shared a worried look, then both turned back to stare out of the windshield.

“Sam,” Dean started, “I got a bad feeling about this.” 'Oh, no. Here we go…'

“Well, you’d be nuts to have a good feeling,” Sam replied lightly in an attempt to conceal the tension beginning to spread through the car. I rolled my eyes and almost called him out, but Dean beat me to it.

“No, you know what I mean. Detroit. He always said he’d jump your bones in Detroit. Here we are!”

“Here we are…” Sam echoed softly, and Dean continued.

“Maybe this is him rollin’ out the red carpet, y’know? Maybe he knows somethin’ that we don’t!”

“He has a point, Sammy,” I said quietly, and Sam turned to look at me. “We’re going into this blind as a fucking bat.”

“Look, I’m sure he knows a buttload that we don’t,” Sam said, his eyes flitting between me and his brother. “We just gotta hope he doesn’t know about the rings.” He was quiet for a minute, then a determined look crossed his face. 'Oh, this isn’t a good sign…' “Hey, um, on the subject, Dean… There’s something I gotta talk to you about.”

“What?” Dean asked apprehensively. I suddenly knew what was coming, and I dreaded being pulled into it.

Sam hesitated a minute, shooting a nervous glance at me, then said, “This thing goes our way and I… Triple-Lindy into that box, you—you know I’m… not coming back.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Dean retorted testily.

“So you gotta promise me something.”

“Okay, yeah, anything.” I knew he’d change his mind once Sam told him the promise.

“You gotta promise not to try to bring me back.”

The tension in the car exploded at that point.

“What?” Dean yelped, jerking his head to glare at Sam and accidentally pulling the steering wheel with him. I glanced at Ella and Cas nervously, but they slept on. “No! I didn’t sign up for that!”

“Dean—” Sam protested weakly, but his brother continued to rant.

“Your Hell is gonna make my tour look like fucking Graceland! You want me to just sit by and do nothing? And you!” Dean exclaimed, glaring at me in the rearview mirror. “You always gotta put your two cents in; why aren’t you sayin’ anything?!”

“I’ve already had this talk with him—back in Abbeville,” I said, not meeting his eye. “And no matter how much I hate it, I agreed. We can’t go back and forth selling our souls for each other. It’d be the most vicious circle in all of history.”

Dean looked like he was about to say something else, but Sam broke in agitatedly, finally having lost his patience. “Once the Cage is shut, you can’t go poking at it, Dean! It’s too risky!”

“No, no, no, no,” Dean said adamantly. “As if I’m just gonna let you rot in there!”

“Yeah, you are!” Sam snapped. “You don’t have a choice!”

“You might’ve got Gari to agree,” Dean said, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm down, “but you can’t ask me to do this.” He glared at me as if I had betrayed him, which, in a way, I guess I had. He had expected me to be on his side, to fight with him, and now he was alone and defenseless against his brother’s unshakeable will.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” the younger Winchester said, and I could tell that he meant it with every fiber of his being. “You have to.”

Dean was silent, staring at the seemingly unending road ahead of us. He would’ve looked completely at ease had it not been for the way he was white-knuckling the steering wheel. “So,” he said finally, sounding like it was taking all of what little self-restraint he had to stop himself from yelling. “Then what am I—what are we supposed to do?”

I glanced at Sam, and he nodded. We had already discussed this.

“First off, before Sammy says anything, we know Elle’s pregnant,” I said. Dean shot me a bewildered look, but didn’t ask how. “No, go ahead, Sam,” I encouraged, watching Dean out of the corner of my eye.

Sam set his jaw stubbornly, already anticipating an argument over his response. “You stay with Ella,” he said simply. “You go find a nice house somewhere, get ready for the baby, do whatever you need to keep it and her safe. You go live some normal, apple pie life, Dean. Promise me.”

Dean stared at his brother in shock, unsure of what to say. He looked at me and asked, “What about you? What are you gonna do?”

I shared a long look with Sam, then glanced at Dean. “I’m leaving,” I told him.

“What about Ella?”

“She’s got you, and soon she’ll have the baby, too. She’ll be okay.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to reassure myself or him.

“Oh,” he said uncomfortably.

“You have to promise me, Dean,” Sam said again. “Promise me!”

Dean turned away from me and looked at his brother with a long, sorrowful, heartbroken expression that killed me inside. “Okay, Sammy,” he said quietly, and I just barely detected the crack in his voice. “I promise.”

The rest of the ride was in total silence.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Ella and Cas were both still snoozing when we got to the motel. I carefully climbed over the front seat and out the passenger side door so as to not wake them.

As I shut the door, I noticed that Cas’s face was pressed against the window and squished into a funny expression. I grinned and pulled out my phone to take a picture, then hesitated. 'Will I really want a memory of all this?' I asked myself, but I took the picture anyway.

Bobby walked toward us, tossing one room key to me, one to Dean, and keeping one for himself. “Oooh, we get to be unsupervised?” I teased the older man.

“Last night on Earth, right?” he responded gruffly, and my grin instantly faded. “Make the most of it. ’Sides, I figure you kids are responsible enough to be on your own.” I nodded, then walked back to the car to get Ella and Cas.

I opened the door on Ella’s side and squatted down. “Hey, babe,” I said, gently shaking her. “Time to wake up. We’re here.”

She opened her eyes groggily and said, “I got a crick in my neck.”

“Probably because you slept the whole way.” I smiled as she rubbed her eyes like a child and yawned widely. “Guess what?”

“What?” she asked me absentmindedly.

I dangled mine and Sam’s room key in front of her. “Bobby got us separate rooms!” She perked up instantly, reaching for the key, but I jerked it away. “Nuh-uh, this one’s mine,” I said happily. “Dean’s got yours.”

She jumped out of the car instantly, running up to Dean and pulling on his arm, saying, “C’mon, let’s go!” He laughed at her enthusiasm and allowed her to drag him along, looking pretty excited himself.

I walked over to Cas’s side and tapped loudly on the window, busting into hysterics when he immediately awoke and found that his drool had temporarily glued his face to the glass. When he finally managed to pull away, the whole right side of his face was brilliantly red. “It isn’t funny,” the ex-angel glowered at me.

“Yes!” I gasped between peals of laughter. “Yes, it is!”

He glared at me moodily and got out of the car, repeating “It isn’t funny” and looking so adorably pathetic.

“Aw, c’mon, Cas!” I said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Lighten up. So you’re a human, so what? So are we!”

“They are,” Castiel corrected me. “You’re not.”

I felt a spark of irritation, but ignored it, saying “Obviously. I’m just saying. And I’m nothing compared to an archangel. I’m not any more useful than you are. At least you have a trench coat.”

He looked down at his vessel’s clothes, more wrinkled and dirty now than they had ever been, and said, “It is my favorite article of Jimmy’s clothing.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And guess who doesn’t have an awesome trench coat?”

“You?”

“Bingo. So lighten up. This is our last night on Earth, after all. Like Bobby said, might as well make the most of it.”

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

I was lying on the bed beside Sam (still fully clothed—don’t go getting any ideas—yet), staring up at the ceiling like I had been for the past two hours.

We had been talking—just talking—about anything and everything that popped into our heads.

I had told him about Greg and how broken he and Ella had been when they found me, how warmly they had accepted me, loved me. He told me more about John, and how he and Dean grew up, and about his years at Stanford.

It was nice just to act like normal people every once in a while, even if the conversations were totally abnormal.

“Hey, Sam?” I said suddenly, having just remembered something, and he looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah?”

“Are those 'Supernatural' books really about you and Dean?”

“Yeah, they are,” he said, grinning a little.

“You wanna explain that?” I raised my eyebrows expectantly, and he chuckled.

“Well, there’s this guy named Chuck Shirley, and he’s a prophet—“

“A prophet named Chuck?” I interrupted skeptically.

“That’s not the weirdest part,” Sam assured me. “See, he tunes in to our future. He sees ‘The Winchester Gospel,’ or something like that.”

“Dude, you have your own prophet?” I exclaimed. “Sweet!”

He laughed and said, “Maybe to you, but it’s pretty annoying when you’re the one he’s seeing.”

“Why’s that? Wouldn’t that help? You could use him for information!”

“Yeah, that part’s cool,” he agreed, “but what’s not cool is that before he knew he was a prophet, he used his visions to write the 'Supernatural' books.”

“So your whole life—it’s all in those books?”

“No, just about three years. They start when Dean came to get me from Stanford, and end with him going to Hell.”

“That’s interesting…” I mused. “I’m definitely gonna have to read those…”

Sam chuckled again, then said, “Be my guest, but don’t blame me for his bad writing.”

I laughed too, then stared at him thoughtfully as another random question entered my head.

“What are you thinking about now?” he asked curiously.

“Adam,” I replied, and Sam frowned. “We never found out what happened to him.”

“Ella didn’t tell you?” he said, surprised.

“Tell me what?”

“He’s Michael’s vessel now. The angels finally gave up on Dean and took him instead.”

“Oh.”

“We couldn’t save him,” Sam said, and an immense amount of guilt filled his voice. “We’re his family. We should’ve been able to do something.” He clenched his jaw in frustration and closed his eyes. “Seems like we can’t save anyone lately. We’re bad luck. Cursed. It’s a wonder you and Ella are still alive.”

“Hey!” I said indignantly, sitting up, and he flinched, opening his eyes and staring at me. “You’re about to save the world! And what’d I say about the whole cursed thing? It’s bullshit! You’re not allowed to think like that!” He looked at me like a scolded child, reverting to his puppy dog eyes. I lay back down beside him, my head on his chest, and he slipped his arm around me. I looked up at him and lifted my hand to his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You’re not allowed to think like that,” I repeated quietly, then kissed him softly.

“Okay,” he agreed once I pulled away.

“Okay,” I echoed firmly. “No more negativity. If this really is our last night on Earth, we’re gonna make the most of it.” He gave me a sly grin and I rolled my eyes. “Perv,” I teased, though I was thinking the exact same thing.

He suddenly grabbed the hand that was still resting on his face. “I meant to ask, but never got around to it,” he said. “What’s it for?” He lightly traced his finger along the inside of my left wrist, across the tattoo I’d had for about two years, and a trail of goose bumps followed his touch. “’Chase the morning,’” he read quietly.

“It’s a song from a movie,” I replied. “’Chase the morning, yield for nothing.’” I sat up again and held out my right wrist to show him the rest. “I love the song and the movie so much. Plus, it’s an excellent mantra.”

“Mhm,” Sam agreed, sitting up as well, then surprising me by gently kissing the “Chase.” I bit my lip, sure that he could feel my increased pulse in my wrist.

“Is—is this the only one you have?” I asked, moving my right hand to rest on his shirt, right where I knew his anti-possession tattoo would be.

“Yeah, I have too many scars as it is,” he mumbled against my wrist.

“Scars are sexy,” I teased, trying to stop trembling as his mouth left my wrist and started trailing up my arm. He gave me that tempting half-grin and I’m sure my heart must have skipped about ten million beats. 'Why is he the only guy who’s ever been able to do this to me?' “I have one, too. Uh, the tattoo, I mean,” I said, a bit breathlessly, pulling down my shirt to expose the matching tattoo and the long scar beside it. Sam stopped kissing me to stare at the scar. “My first wendigo,” I explained, and he chuckled and pulled me closer.

“So… should I give you the ‘last night on Earth’ speech,” he said, half-grinning again, “or would that be too overused and lame?”

“It’s both,” I replied, trying to hide my painfully obvious anticipation. “But it’s cute.”

“And d’you think it would work?”

I bit my lip again to hide my smile. “Definitely.”

He was kissing me before I even finished the word. I ripped open his shirt, running my hands over his perfect abs. “Someone’s in a hurry,” he smirked against my lips.

“You’re one to talk,” I retorted, biting his bottom lip playfully. “Jumping on me like that. Shame on you!”

He gave a throaty chuckle, sliding his hands under my tank top and undoing my bra without once removing his mouth from mine. 'God, I hate clothes,' I thought as I attempted to get my pants off without breaking contact with Sam.

He moved his mouth to my neck and kissed me with surprising force. My hands grasped in his shaggy hair, holding him impossibly closer to me, and my now-naked legs tangled with his. His hands slid down my body and I moaned his name, pleasure-induced chills breaking out all over my skin.

Let’s just say we definitely made the most of our last night on Earth.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Surprisingly, I woke up first.

I sighed contentedly as I opened my eyes to stare at Sam’s sleeping form. He looked so young, so peaceful, and it killed me to think that soon, he would be fighting Lucifer for control of his own body and mind.

I grabbed my cell phone from the bedside table and took a picture of him, smiling slightly. I snuggled back down beside him for a minute, drawing warmth and comfort from his naked body, then kissed his jawline.

I disentangled myself from him cautiously, not wanting to wake him, then walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, getting in once it was hot enough. Steaming hot showers always helped comfort me and helped me think clearly to figure out my problems. This time, however, it didn’t really do the trick.

Sam was going to be gone soon, and I had no clue what I would do. 'I never expected to be so dependent on someone. I’m supposed to be the strong individual, the Eowyn type, who doesn’t need a man to make her happy. But here I am, knowing that I’m going to fall apart as soon as he says yes.'

Sam was awake when I got out of the shower, fastening his belt buckle and looking troubled. However, he brightened up when he saw me. “Morning,” he said, giving me one of his adorable lopsided grins.

“Morning,” I replied, walking over to him and dropping my towel, then standing up on tiptoes and kissing him fiercely.

We broke apart after a minute, both of us breathing kind of hard. “What was that for?” he asked me, playing with a strand of my wet hair.

“Just ‘cause,” I said, shrugging nonchalantly.

He stared at me thoughtfully, knowing “just ‘cause” wasn’t the reason at all. “Alright,” he said finally. “Dean just called. We gotta head out. Get dressed, okay?”

“You sure that’s what you want?” I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck to press us together.

He kissed me briefly, then said, “Go,” laughing as I pretended to pout.

I put on a clean set of clothes and grabbed my bags, deciding to just let my hair dry on its own. “You ready?” I asked him, and he nodded. “Then c’mon. Don’t wanna keep Deano waiting.”

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

“Demons. Least two dozen of ‘em,” Bobby said, walking down the dark backstreet toward us. “You were right—somethin’s up.”

“More than ‘somethin’,’” Dean said, staring up at the old building. “He’s here; I know it.” Ella slid her arm through his and laid her head on him in an attempt to be comforting, but it wasn’t working.

I leaned up against the Impala, watching Sam’s every move and committing him to memory—how his shoulders were slightly hunched out of insecurity and an effort to keep the attention off his height, the way he clenched his jaw when he was determined, how his eyes changed from green to brown to a mixture of the two, the way his hair fell in front of his face, causing him to push it back every few minutes. I had to remember him exactly the way he was.

He walked over to Bobby, hands shoved in his pockets. 'Here come the goodbyes.'

“See ya ‘round, kid,” the older hunter said, his voice full of paternal love.

“See ya ‘round,” Sam replied, smiling sadly.

They hugged for a second, then Bobby stepped back, his hands gripping Sam’s shoulders tightly. Tears glistened in his eyes and clogged his throat as he said fiercely, “He gets in, ya fight him tooth and nail, ya understand? Keep swingin’. Don’t give an inch.”

Sam nodded once, then walked over to Cas, extending his arm to shake the ex-angel’s hand. “You take care of these guys, okay?”

“That’s not possible,” Castiel said gravely, shaking Sam’s hand.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching upward the slightest bit. “Then humor me.”

A look of realization crossed Cas’s face and he looked away embarrassedly. “Oh, I’m supposed to lie.” The former angel plastered on an over-exaggerated, crooked grin and, in a weird, slurring voice, said, “Uh, sure, they’ll be fine.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Just—just stop talking,” he said with a sad sort of grin.

Ella launched herself at Sam, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Take him out, big guy!” she cried, her tears staining his shirt. He laughed and hugged her back, then she let him go, wiping her eyes and sniffling loudly.

“My turn,” I said as I walked over to him. He looked down at me, gorgeous hazel eyes in full puppy dog mode. I locked my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, tears springing to my eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he said quietly, and I looked down, pressing my lips into a thin line in an attempt to obey. He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him, and kissed me softly. I stretched up on tiptoes to deepen the kiss, not caring that everyone else was watching. This was the last time I would ever be able to kiss him, and I planned to make the most of it.

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably and we reluctantly broke apart. “If you two are done…” he said, giving me an awkward but sympathetic look.

I looked back at Sam, balling my hands into fists around his shirt, and hissed, “Never give in. Keep fighting, Sam. I know you can do this. I know it.” I kissed him again, briefly but fiercely. “I love you,” I whispered as I released him.

“I love you, too.”

Sam walked over to the open trunk of the Impala and stared down at the jugs of demon blood. He glanced at his brother, who was standing beside him with apprehension and anxiety in his eyes. “You mind not watching this?” he said casually.

Though he directed his request at Dean, we all turned away immediately.

About five minutes later, the trunk slammed shut and we turned back around. “Okay,” Sam said, his body trembling with sudden adrenaline. “Let’s go.” Dean gave Bobby a look full of dread, then followed his brother. I watched as Sam walked toward the building with an unsettling amount of confidence. “Alright!” he called, slinging his arms out to the sides. “We’re here, you sons of bitches! Come and get it!”

As they reached the building, a few demons came out and stared at the boys menacingly. “Hey, guys,” I heard Dean say, his tone snarky and mocking, and I couldn’t help but smile a little. “Is your father home?” The demons ushered the boys inside and we were left to wait. 'We do that a lot with them…'

No one spoke. Ella and I finally went and sat on the hood of the Impala, and Cas soon joined us, perching like a bird on the very edge.

A bright light flashed from the top window and I jumped off the hood in alarm, only to be held back by Bobby. “Let me go!” I begged. “What if something’s wrong?!” I strained against his grasp, but it was no use.

“There’s nothin’ we can do, kid,” he said calmly. I finally gave up and went limp, leaning against the older hunter for support.

Soon, the door to the building opened and Dean slowly walked out.

I broke free and ran to him, stopping abruptly as I took in the hopelessly broken, defeated look in his eyes. “No…” I breathed, tears instantly welling up and running down my cheeks. 'He made it. That’s the reason Dean’s so heartbroken. Lucifer couldn’t have won. It’s not possible!' But I was lying to myself. It was obvious why Dean looked the way he did.

“He couldn’t fight it,” he croaked, and I watched as a single tear rolled down his face. “He’s gone.”