Be strong in the moments where you want to be weak

I was holding it gingerly between my thumb and forefinger, still blowing on it, when Sam pushed out of the cage the witch had him locked in, her powers having faded out with her death.

It wasn't logical and yet all I could think of was cooling the ring and keeping it safe.

Sam ran around the corner and into the large room halting at my side, “W-what happened?!”

“He killed her,” I pointed to the small pile of dust that laid where she’d been standing.

But there was nothing left of my husband except his silver wedding band – devastated didn’t even feel like a strong enough word to describe how I felt.

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak, I wasn’t even sure if I was breathing or not. I felt as though I was trapped in a fog, sounds felt muffled.

Sam was amazing, though. He cleaned up the scene so no one would know we’d been there; I was aware of him moving about but when I tried to help him clean up all I did was shake and make things worse.

After cleaning up inside, Sam took the time to search the property; making sure Dean hadn’t just been snapped somewhere else. He was methodical, searching every inch of the place for another hidden cage or room - he of course, found nothing.

Sam found me right where he’d placed me before going to investigate the property, the only change being that I’d managed to put Dean’s ring on my necklace and reclasp it. I had been sitting there contemplating everything. 

The room was gross, covered in dust and a layer of grime I didn’t want to think about. Sam had led me over to an old metal desk that wasn’t directly in the witch’s workspace, it was the cleanest spot in the room. I remember him telling me to sit and wait, promising he’d be back in a minute. I thought about the layout of the room, a large L-shaped space. Some of the janky cages she’d put together were directly across from where I sat while the different workstations dotted the floor in either direction. The one wall of the cage Sam had been held in was nothing more than an old bed frame that was somehow tied to the brackets that had once held some piece of equipment. If she hadn’t cast a spell on that cage a toy poodle could have torn it down. 

Then I went over the facts of the hunt - replaying every moment that had gone wrong. We'd spent weeks tracking her down, across three states. We had a suspicion she'd made Sam a few days prior but there was nobody close enough to get to us and help out so we pushed forward. We figured out where her hideout was and nearly got caught doing recon on the second night. Then we'd spent the afternoon planning and taking a nap so we'd be alert enough to actually carry out the hunt.

When the witch had caught Sam in her lair she'd tossed some dust at him and snapped her fingers, zapping him somewhere. I was hidden but had seen it happen. She knew we were there and we had to rush - find Sammy, kill the witch who had already killed three in this town alone, and get the hell out of there without drawing attention.

Sam had been trapped in the cell just around the corner of the big open room she seemed to be using as storage for her supplies and her main workspace for creating the spells. While I'd searched for a way to open Sam's cage, the witch had entered the main room where Dean was looking for keys or some type of electric switch.

She screeched when she saw Dean and charged him just as I returned to the room but before I could do anything to help him, Dean lunged forward and stabbed her - ending her reign of terror thankfully, but also taking Dean from me.

Sam explained that each time he called Dean's phone the line would ring once and then he'd get an automated message that the phone was out of its service area. Putting his phone on speaker he tried Dean a few more times. All I did was let out a little sob when I heard it the third time, but I just as quickly returned to the odd silence -  staring straight ahead, eyes glossy and unfocused. I'm sure I looked a total mess because I felt so hopeless, and utterly useless.

When he couldn’t get me to respond, Sam had scooped me up and carried me out to Baby, so he could get us both back to the safety of the bunker.

I was aware that I was laying in the backseat but I was numb and couldn’t respond when Sam stopped for fuel and snacks, so kindly asking if I wanted something. He waited for a response but I couldn't do anything but shift my eyes to look at him.

"OK, I'll bring you a water," he whispered before disappearing from my view.

I felt bad, he'd lost his brother - the least I could do would be to acknowledge him. Yet I felt trapped in my body - as though I couldn't make it do the things it should have been. My limbs were heavy and it felt like my lips wouldn't work - I couldn't even force words past them.

Six hours passed with me simply laying on the seat waiting – I felt like I might die before we even arrived home. I prayed for death because I didn't want to do this without Dean.

When Sam parked in the garage, I finally sobbed out a shuddering breath and nearly fell out of the passenger door as I tried to escape the pain that had been building in my chest.

My vision speckled and I stopped and bent down, resting my hands on my knees; I gasped what was probably the first lung filling breath I'd taken since I'd watched my love vanish.

Sam was my rock, he steadied me and took my hand, leading me into the war room where I could prop myself against the lighted map table. I literally couldn't keep myself upright without something to help hold me up.

I have no idea how long I just stood there staring blankly at the table before I decided that I should get cleaned up. I didn’t even remember Sam carrying my backpack in, it was just there on the map table. 

When I showered I thought for a split second that I could feel Dean’s hand brush my hair behind my ear. I told myself I was losing it. It was my brain wishing Dean was there to do that oh so familiar action.

For as much as the man said he wasn't a chick-flick guy he was always touching or hugging me and I already missed that. Dean was constantly tucking this one spot of hair back for me. It didn't matter if my hair had been short or long, I had one spot that was wild. I missed him, I missed that touch - it was always comforting no matter what was happening, and the last time I'd ever gotten to experience it was two hours before I lost him forever.

As I showered I thought of all the ways I could try to get him back - I really only came up with one idea and I doubted it would even work. No demon was going to bring Dean Winchester back and Dean would be so disappointed in me for even thinking of that. That thought had me so upset, I nearly collapsed. 

Slumping against the shower wall for support I decided I’d been in there long enough and forced myself to exit, dress and head for bed, even though I knew I wouldn’t sleep. I stood outside of room 11 for probably ten minutes just staring at that damn little number 11 glinting at me, taunting me with how pretty and comforting it once felt. Behind that door was nothing but the ghost of my life waiting to mock me.

I only left my room the next day a handful of times; I forced myself to eat one meal but that had been all because it had upset my stomach. I couldn’t make eye contact with Sam so I’d sulked back to my room. 

On the third morning after losing Dean I stood in the kitchen blearily sweeping my eyes around the room wondering where the hell I put my coffee mug. I swore I had set it on the island but it was gone.

It wasn’t on the table or any of the counter space. I even checked the shelving where Dean kept his sugary cereals and in the fridge. Just when I was about to give up and make another cup Sam walked into the kitchen.

“Were you researching?” he asked somewhat grumpily, holding my coffee mug. I looked at the image of a pie and the words printed above it, "We go together like coffee and pie.”

“No, I’ve been in the kitchen since I woke up,” I answered, giving the kitchen one more glance that’s when it clicked in my brain… Sam was holding my mug.

“Why do you have my mug?”

“I sat down to read the newspaper and knocked it onto my phone,” he scowled.

“Oh no!” I turned and grabbed the nearest dish towel.

“I got it dried off,” he told me, “It’ll be fine, but I was trying to figure out when you came in there?”

“I didn’t,” I answered flatly, “I made coffee, prepped my cup, and took a few sips before I started the bacon,” I gestured at the cooking bacon only to notice that the stove was now off.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

I glared at him as if to say, ‘no my husband is dead,’ but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, and after several beats he just turned on his heel and walked away.

I couldn’t blame him. Sam had lost Dean too and I’d been pretty shitty and avoidant. 

Later that day I sat in my chair researching and trying to make sense of what had happened to Dean – part of me felt like he’d been snapped away. I was worried we had a situation where Dean had been zapped to a different dimension or world. I didn’t want another Purgatory situation on our hands.

Dean had been so hurt that we hadn’t looked for him. Well, I’d tried a little but all signs pointed to him being dead and I’d sunk into a deep depression. I'd checked with psychics, a voodoo priestess, and had done my own soul tracking spell.

I even got help to cross over temporarily to meet with a reaper who'd been somewhat helpful to me in the past. Everyone told me the same thing . . .  if I couldn't track him by any of the means I'd already used, then he was gone. Dean was nowhere to be found and after a few weeks, I'd given up.

I was reliving it all over again; I could already feel the tendrils wrapping slowly around me, ready to suck me into the darkness. I pictured it as vines that had looped around my feet beginning to squeeze and slither further up my ankles and legs. It was worming its way into me waiting to take hold and drown me in despair. 

For the next two weeks I would make breakfast and settle in at a table in the library to research and each day I’d come up with nothing and my heart would shatter all over again. I’d cry myself to sleep or at least into a comatose stage and then begin again the next morning.  

‘Why did I have to be head over heels for the one man who died as often as I got new shoes?!’

The random touches started to freak me out - I'd be sitting in my chair in the library and feel like a hand had dragged across my shoulders, but when I'd look Sam and Eileen were nowhere to be seen.

Every single day I would lose things, but not in the normal way one does when they misplace their keys or forget where they placed the grocery list.

I knew it sounded crazy but when my things vanished it felt more like I was being toyed with and not just misplacing things. I would set my coffee mug down in the kitchen and find it in the library or laundry room later. One day I spent twenty minutes looking around the bunker - I'd been in the kitchen, the laundry room, and the library, so I checked each of those rooms. Not only that I also checked the dungeon, the gym, and the infirmary even though I hadn't stepped foot in any of those rooms that morning. I gave up and decided I’d step into room 11 and grab the flannel off the chair… the missing cup would show up but I needed the comfort of my favorite flannel and I was ready to push myself to retrieve it. I froze at the doorway when I saw my cup sitting on Dean’s night stand.

“Sammy!” I shouted.

He came running, calling out, “Where are you?”

“Room 11,” I yelled, still unable to call it my room or even Dean's room. I still couldn't say his name out loud without sobbing - not that I'd tried more than once.

I didn’t know what else to say; that room was Dean’s room, then it was ours. However without Dean it became nothing more than a mausoleum of memories I had shared with him.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, pulling me into a hug.

“D-did you put my mug in there? B-because if you did that was really shitty of you!” I yelled as I smacked his chest halfheartedly.

“I would never!” Sam defended. “I know you don’t like that I told you to take a break from research on trying to find Dean, but I’m not cruel," Sam pointed out.

I broke, “I know, but every day I’m losing things,” I pushed away from Sam and began to pace like a raving lunatic.

“Things are moving, it’s not like I’m setting it on one table and then moving to the other and forgetting! Sam you have to believe me, I didn’t do that,” I pointed toward the night stand that held my mug.

"I had it with me in the library and the kitchen," I told him, "I did go to the laundry room to put stuff in the dryer so I even checked there and it wasn't there."

I looked back at the night stand on Dean’s side of the bed, and I began to sob.

"I haven't even been in there since we left for that hunt."

I’d made it two days without crying at that point and it yet again felt like I might never stop - I was honestly starting to wonder if I'd drown from my own tears.

Sam pulled me close, rubbing his hand up and down my back, “I know this is hard,” he whispered and kissed the top of my head, “I’ll bring it to you,” he stepped through the doorway and brought the mug to me, like it was the easiest task.

“While you’re in there can you grab the flannel off the chair?” I sniffled.

Sam obliged, grabbing the flannel and holding my coffee while I pulled Dean’s old shirt on. I’d given up on the coffee search and had been going to get the flannel and that was how I found my mug. I had worked up the courage to go grab that flannel but seeing the coffee mug there had nearly ruined me, at least that's how it felt.

Things continued in a similar manner for several more days.

Sam came to the laundry room one afternoon and asked if I’d moved his phone to the kitchen, which of course I hadn’t and told him just that.

“Maybe you carried it in there and forgot,” I offered him the same answer he’d given me multiple times over the past few weeks.

He shot me a glare and left the room.

I have to admit I was slightly amused by the pout that flashed on his face before it turned to a full glare. I pulled my laundry from the dryer and placed it in my basket before stating, “God Dean, I don’t know if you can hear me. I miss you and I’m going to get you back.”

Grabbing my basket I took a step before jumping when a bottle I swore I'd thrown down in the trash can clattered to the floor. I stared at it for a moment before setting the basket down and moving to pick up the empty bottle.

I inspected it and told myself that I had to have made a mistake and not gotten it into the bin, ‘It must have been balancing on the lip of the can.’

Two days later I woke up from an incredibly steamy, very realistic dream – so real that I’d soaked my panties and pj shorts.

I was instantly saddened when I realized that Dean wasn’t there, he hadn’t actually made me feel that way, and he never would again. All I had left were my dreams and memories.

I pretty much kept myself locked away that day - I just kept remembering the dream and how I felt when I woke up; how I could have sworn I could feel Dean's hands on me. It got me all bothered and feeling too embarrassed to be around Sam in my condition - I was either horny or crying.

That evening when I did go to the kitchen to cook, I found Eileen and Sam already making dinner. As we sat down to eat I took my normal seat and watched as the spoon I'd placed on the table next to my spot flew off and hit the floor - it reminded me of the way a cat swipes things off of flat surfaces.

We all convinced ourselves that my shirt sleeve had somehow caught it and thus flung it to the floor and we dug into our bowls of chili.

The chili reminded me of Dean and how much I missed his cooking, which wasn't helping me at all. I know Eileen noticed the tear trailing down my face but I was grateful that she didn't say anything about it.

As we finished eating Sam's phone rang - another hunter was struggling with a banshee hunt.

I dreaded what Sam was about to say when he hung up.

Sam softened his expression and explained that they were leaving to help this guy - he offered for me to go with them if I wanted to - I did not want to. A hunt was the last thing I wanted to be anywhere near.

"I can't do a hunt right now Sam, it wouldn't be safe."

He nodded and gave me his big puppy eyes.

"I'm not ready and I don't sleep anymore - not well enough to be helpful," I added, knowing full well I should be helping people, not making excuses and being sad.

Dean would have gone and helped.

"I get it," he rose from his seat and left to gather his gear.

This had been a reoccurring conversation; Sam telling me he understood that I wasn't ready or couldn't deal with certain things and I knew that he was trying to be helpful and caring but sometimes I wanted to scream, "You don't fucking know what it's like!" or "You could never understand!"

But then I had to stop and think about the fact that he kind of did understand - he'd lost Jess to a monster too! Yes, the circumstances were different but he wanted to marry her and never got to so he understood the loss of that kind of love and the pain of feeling stuck in some type of way.

The difference was he'd jumped into hunting because that was the catalyst for his anger - it fueled him to move forward and kill the demon. The monster that took Dean out was already dead. Without Dean, I had nothing left but some fragile friendships and being Sam's sister-in-law. Hell, a vampire had stolen my car and wrecked the shit out of it - I didn't even have my own car after that!

I packed some snacks for them to take on the road and then I sat back at my spot and waited for them to be ready. After handing them off some food and water, we said our goodbyes and they left - I was completely alone in the bunker for the first time in years.

I felt as though I might be swallowed up by the vast silence of it all.

I went back to the kitchen to clean, ‘maybe if I kept busy I wouldn't notice the void as much,’ I thought.

Twice as I scrubbed pans and counters I swore I felt Dean's hand on my shoulder or hip. I couldn't have of course because nobody was there but me; it almost felt real enough to be believable.

When the kitchen was sparkling clean I made my way to the TV room, I couldn't even think of it as the Dean Cave anymore. I stepped across the threshold and was thrown back into a memory of Dean first showing Sam and I this very room - Dean had been working on some little project for a few weeks but insisted I couldn't know about it, and I'd been a good wife and ignored the sounds and curses that came from behind that door.

I still to this day don't know how he got some of the things into that room by himself. I remember we'd been given a large flat screen TV as a thank you for saving a pawn shop owner. When Dean hit the power button on the TV remote a violet light had come from the TV and the next thing we knew we were in an episode of Scooby-Doo.

I couldn't help but chuckle as I remembered Dean's lame attempt at flirting with Daphne, right up until he thought both the server at the malt shop and Fred were flirting with me.

I looked around the room and marveled as I thought of how each corner of that room held so many memories - so many memories condensed in that one little part of the bunker.

I turned on the TV to whatever seemed funny and wouldn't make me cry and I laid on the little love seat we'd acquired a few years back when I decided we needed something to cuddle on when he made me watch certain scary movies.

As I began to doze off I had the most realistic dream that someone had been rubbing my feet, but when I pushed myself up to look around, the room was empty - as I expected it to be - I was after all just having a dream.

Dean's POV

I couldn't figure out what had happened to me - I was there but neither Sammy nor Tally seemed to notice me.

I tried to comfort her but she just stared straight ahead like she couldn't see me. Sam was cleaning the area up and that's when I realized that I must be dead. The thing was, no reaper had shown up and for someone like me you'd think the reaper would be on the fast track to gather me and scoot my soul off this mortal coil.

None of it made sense, Tally just sat or stood wherever Sam placed her and shook slightly - her silent cries were killing me - or would have if I wasn't already dead.

Once it was all said and done and Sam was carrying my widow back to what once was my car I realized something was seriously wrong.

'Maybe the reapers don't want my soul,' I thought. 'Maybe it's too far gone and they are just going to leave me here.'

I decided to jump into the front seat but I couldn't get the passenger door open so I had to rush to the driver's side and slide across the bench seat.

I sat angled somewhat sideways in Sam's spot watching as he drove home, careful to stop and fill up the car and offer Tally something to eat and drink.

She was almost catatonic and I hated every second of it - I felt like I was trapped in my own body with no way to communicate.

I even tried to reach over the seat and push her hair from her beautiful face but it was as if I'd done nothing. Every time I tried to do something it was another reminder that I'd failed. Sure, the witch was dead but I wasn't there to protect my family now. I hated myself for getting killed on the easiest of hunts.

It took me nearly an hour to get into the bunker and by the time I did Tally was just heading into the bathroom. She sobbed and whimpered through her whole shower.

I wanted to comfort her so I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower with her - I kissed her cheek and told her I loved her and then I brushed that one wild piece of hair out of her face. She paused almost like she felt it and I got hopeful that maybe she'd realized I was standing right by her and we could have some kind of moment, but she simply shut the water off and stepped out to get dressed.

When she finished with her shower and went to her old room things started to sink in.

This was it - I had to figure out how to get her attention. If I didn't, eventually I'd go vengeful and hurt her and Sammy.

That first day home she hid in her old room for most of the day - couldn't get enough energy to walk through the wall or door so I had to wait until she came out to go get something and then I went in and sat on the chair in the corner of her room.

She had long ago put up some old string lights around the top of the walls because she said they made her feel happy after a bad hunt.

The only light on in her room was the string lights and it stayed that way for three days. I'm pretty sure the only reason she turned the regular light on is because I moved my wedding band to try and get her to realize I was there. All I succeeded in doing was upsetting her because she thought she lost it.

That did nothing but make me feel even more guilty.

I started spending time in my room practicing moving things but I'd have to exert so much energy I'd have to lay or sit down for long periods of time. It was also becoming very hard to keep track of day time versus night and how many days had passed. I was fairly certain my phone had been destroyed when I stabbed the witch. I simply didn’t have it. 

Tally and Sam went rounds about her things going missing, neither of them thought to get out an EMF reader - I was really starting to wonder about their sanity and capability in hunting at this point.

I tried everything I could think of to get her attention - I'd walk past her randomly and run my hand across her shoulders, or touch her shoulder when I peeked over it to see what she was working on or reading about.

Each day she'd been getting into some pretty heavy scientific stuff - quantum theories, alternate dimensions, and even time travel. One day she pulled out a book, ‘Beyond the Grave,’ she was starting to get to the correct conclusion but it was taking too long.

I wasn't experiencing hunger like I should have either but when I realized that I was getting hungry I did manage to get ahold of some of the leftovers after a couple of meals.

Once I'd mastered moving small things, I started moving her coffee mug further away - finally putting it in our bedroom. My plan failed because she walked up to the door and immediately yelled for Sam.

She'd scolded him for moving her mug into room 11 and he'd dutifully gone in and grabbed it, along with stepping back over to grab one of my flannels off my chair for her. He really was trying to keep her company and help her after losing me.

I stood there in my room completely helpless and totally invisible to the two most important people in my life - or past life.

It took some powering up but I managed to move Sam's phone then rush to the laundry room where she was working. Sam came looking for her to ask if she'd moved his phone and I tried to get Sam's attention but I wasn't charged up enough.

When he left the room she looked up and stated, “God Dean, I don’t know if you can hear me. I miss you and I’m going to get you back.”

Then she grabbed her laundry basket and I grabbed the empty soap bottle from the trash can and threw it as hard as I could at the ground.

Although it wasn't as loud as I'd liked it did make her jump and return to inspect the bottle and the trash bin. She didn't get the clue though.

It took me two days to realize I could make certain things happen for her. I've always enjoyed bringing pleasure to the woman I'm with and pleasing my wife has made me especially proud of myself. I never leave her wanting and being buried in her makes me just as happy, obviously so I climbed in bed with her.

She was wearing a tee shirt and a pair of sleep shorts I'd picked out for her years ago. I pulled her against me and whispered in her ear, "I'm right here, can you feel me?"

She moaned and pushed back against me so I did something we'd done when we were younger - we called it the, "special wake-up call."

The actual term is somnophilia and that might not even be the most correct term but we took turns waking each other up with sex - thus the wake-up call. I was hoping to bring her some physical release so her body could truly rest, or if she woke up maybe she'd figure out I was right there with her.

I worked my hand into her shorts and carefully rubbed and touched her until she was melting into me. I carefully tested inserting one finger and working it in and out of her slowly for several minutes before adding a second digit.

She shifted her body so she was laying on her back which gave me more room to work and I had laid there next to her fingering her to full climax. I honestly loved the way her body clinched around me - even if it was just my fingers. She moaned and whined as she writhed about the bed. I think the amount of booze she'd had that night was the only thing keeping her from waking up fully.

She'd been so frustrated with the state of her clothing and bed it was kind of funny to watch her strip and change the bedding all the while muttering and cursing at the stupid horny state of her mind.

Then that night when Sam's phone rang at dinner time I could see how the color drained from her lips - she was already panicking and probably feeling guilty as fuck when she told Sam she wouldn't be going with them.

I needed to try harder to get her attention!

I watched as she packed up some snacks and bottles of water for Sam and Eileen to go help another hunter with a Banshee hunt - ‘there probably isn't a more capable duo for that in the US.’

It did make me proud of her to see her taking care of Sam and Eileen. I knew she didn’t think she was being good to them since I’d died but she was doing her best. 

When she stepped out to the garage to see them off I ate the rest of the chili in Sam's bowl. I still hadn't been able to cook my own food or even dish it up, and I was so hungry. I'd figured out that I could eat leftovers that were sitting out, and it meant she wouldn't have to scrape the bowl clean before washing it.

Being a ghost was weird - I still couldn't figure out why or how I was getting hungry.

When Tally came back to the kitchen I watched her scratch her head and mutter, "I swore there was chili left in that dish," but after looking in the trash can she ultimately gave up and just cleaned the kitchen.

I felt bad because I had to go lie down - I'd interacted too much and needed to re-charge. When I got up from my "ghost nap" I walked to the Dean Cave and I found Tally frozen in place looking around the room as if it were filled with ghosts - and in a way I suppose the whole bunker was filled with ghosts to her. That was why she wouldn't step foot in our bedroom - she acted as if the bedroom was a personal attack on her.

That made my heart ache for her - another thing I didn't know ghosts could do or experience.

I watched her stare at the bar in the corner - I wondered if she was thinking the same thing as me, because the sight of it reminded me of the time I had her laid out on top of it just eating her out. We'd done it in many rooms in the bunker - sometimes you gotta release some pressure between hunts or arguments and there's a lot of space in the bunker.

She moved to the little love seat she insisted we needed for movie nights and she laid across it pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and snuggling under it.

Once she was settled I moved over to the end and sat down, she was curled in a half fetal position so there was a little room. Without thinking I reached out and started to rub her foot. She seemed to be dozing off into a pretty deep sleep but then jerked up and looked around the room.

I realized that she had felt what I was doing and she looked a little freaked out.

"It was just a dream. You're freaking yourself out over nothing," she muttered and turned off the TV before walking quickly back to the library and pulling out a book to research.

I hated it but I had to sit down - I was exhausted after that. 

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