Walking Toward the End

"Fake FBI badges, an angel in a trench coat, and an escape from a mental hospital," I breathe. "Just a normal day, right?"
Sam sniffs from the front seat.
As soon as they'd flashed their badges at the doctors, warning signs went off, but they got into the car without even checking if I was still going with them, so they weren't dependent on me going with them. Plus, their body language wasn't threatening. More like tired.
I sit in the back seat of the '67 Impala, Dean driving with Sam next to him. I glance to my left to see Cas watching me intently.
"Do you mind?"
He turns his attention to the window and I let out a sigh. "Where're we going?"
"Baker Street. You do live there?" Sam looks at me through the window.
I don't reply. The angel says John and Mrs. Hudson care, but then why wouldn't they have visited me? I want to believe them, I really do. Nothing's told me that what they've said isn't true, but there's still a pit in my stomach, asking what if?
"If you are an angel," I ask, "can you tell when someone goes to heaven?"
"Yes." Cas replies.
Sam and Dean look back at me for a second, and I see they know where I'm going.
"Have you heard of Emma King?"
Cas pauses. "She's enjoying London with no lines."
I let out a breathy chuckle. "That's definitely her."

I step out of the Impala, faced by the blue door to my old home. My stomach churns, and thoughts float through my head of all worst-case scenarios. John slams the door in my face. Shouts at me. Calls me all the things that were in my nightmares. Mocks me-
No. Stop it. I rub my temples. The two brothers share a communicative glance as they walk me to the door in my bright white clothes. They stand on either side of me.
"Where's the angel?" I look back at the car.
Cas suddenly appears in front of me.
"Jesus!" I give a start.
"I am Castiel," he cocks his head. "Not Jesus."
I shake my head as I use the rusted knocker on the door.
The door muffles a bang and a grunt, like someone hit something. Footsteps approach and I feel sick. Sam catches my eye and puts a hand on my shoulder. I pull my jacket tighter around me as the door cracks open, revealing the ex-army doctor with a hand to his head and grimacing.
"We don't want your cookies..." he mutters before seeing me, which is when he drops his hand and gapes as me. "Eveline."
He's lost a lot of weight. I give a small smile. "Hey, John-"
I'm cut off by his strangling hug. "Where have you been?"
I step back and my eyebrows draw together. "I was in the mental hospital. You were the one to put me in there!"
John shakes his head. "I called the ambulance when I found you- you've been in a coma! You went missing from the hospital six months ago."
"Six months? How long was I out?"
"Two years." John mumbles.
I suck in a breath and take a step back, the four men giving me space. "Wait- hold on a minute. When Moriarty kidnapped me, I was out for twenty-four hours, and the same time again when I was all drugged up. Two days from Moriarty, but two years from myself. I don't know how he did it, but he's done it."
"I don't know, Evie," John shakes his head. "It seems a little too good, even for Moriarty."
"He had demonic help," Cas says bluntly.
John blinks, as if noticing the three of them for the first time. I stare at Cas for a second before I introduce them as Mrs. Hudson comes rushing to the door.
"Eveline, where on earth have you been?" She fusses. "We've been worried sick! We didn't know where you were, if you'd been injured-"
"Mrs. Hudson," I chuckle. "I'm fine. If you don't mind, I'd like some tea."
My landlady smiles at me, before mumbling, "Not your housekeeper."
I walk inside with Sam, Dean and Cas. Castiel is as emotionless as ever, while Dean looks completely creeped out and Sam looks like he's in paradise. I breathe in the scent of the lemon-scented air freshener Mrs. Hudson has always used. We climb the creaky stairs, the trio I've just met behind us, with my arm slung over John's shoulder. It feels fantastic to be home- the shot spray-painted smiley face is still there, along with Sherlock's skull "friend". Instinctively, I curl up on Sherlock's chair, the way I'd do after his fall. I let my eyes close for a second before Mrs. Hudson comes in with tea for all. I thank her as I sip.
"Now, tell us what happened." John urges.
I take a deep breath as I start to describe the past six months.