He thought of her as a sister - the sister he never wanted he’d say, but of course that was nothing but teasing. He’d adored her, the same way he adores Sam. He’d seen it as his job to protect her, the same way he’d always done for his baby brother, and if he’d known about her situation sooner there’d be fewer patchwork freaks running around with her blood on their hands.

But isn’t that all he is now? A freak who’s been shredded and torn into too many pieces, who’s taken too many lives to keep track of anymore? Sure she’d tried to help him, but look where that had gotten her.

He really is like Frankenstein’s monster: no matter how hard he tries to fit in, to be accepted, all he can do is destroy whatever good things he touches. She didn’t deserve what she got, and he didn’t deserve to feel happy in the first place. He got complacent, and it just got her killed.

All he deserves anymore is the rage. It’s all he’ll ever get anyway, so why not just give in? It’s clear that anyone he could trust doesn’t think he’s worthy of being trusted back.

The mark is well and truly consuming him. He’s becoming his burden, and it’s weighing down the people closest to him. They’re drowning under the weight of him, and it’s just going to get them all killed. Hell, they’re already headed down that road.

He figures being a demon would almost be easier than watching it go down. At least then he’d be totally numb. At least then he wouldn’t have to feel this way anymore.

“Dean.”

He nearly swerves off the road before he feels the cold. That familiar chill is making his breath as visible as the mark on his arm. He looks to Sam, and Sam seems as surprised as he is.

They still don’t say anything, but they usually don’t have to anyway.

He pulls over, still taking care to avoid the rearview mirror, and immediately steps out of the car.

“Sam? Dean?”

And now he knows he can’t be imagining it, because Sam’s giving him the same terrified look he must have on his own face.

“Can you guys hear me?”

He must black out for a bit because in no time at all he goes from standing on his feet to kneeling in the grass.

Sam’s the one who finally speaks up, which is good because he feels like his throat just shriveled up and- well, you get the idea.

“Charlie?”

It’s soft, barely there at best, but the question doesn’t hang in the air for more than a second before it’s answered.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

And god, it’s good to hear her voice again. He doesn’t even care about the why or how, because all that matters now is the overflowing guilt pouring out of him.

Monster or not, he’s at least allowed to hurt.

“Oh Dean…”

His chest is tight, his throat burns and all he can feel are the tears running down his cheeks. It doesn’t matter that he can barely breathe, or that what gasping breaths make it through seem loud enough to hear across the state, because those hands cupping his cheeks are too small to be Sam’s. The thumbs that split the rivers running down his face are too gentle to belong to his giant of a brother. He doesn’t have to be looking to know that it’s true - and either way, he’s too afraid to face the possibility that it could be a lie.

This is the weakest he’s allowed himself to be since Cain. But he hasn’t been so low since then either. He’s well and truly broken.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“No.”

The hands drop from his face and he swallows through the burn that won’t stop spreading through him. The fire in him is all-consuming, leaving everything almost as barren as the mark does.

“You’re dead.”

A brief pause as more shivers run up his spine - whether from the cold or the tension in the air, he can’t tell.

“Like that’s ever stopped a Winchester before.”

And that, that’s just so Charlie that it cuts even deeper.

“Look at me, Dean. Please?”

And how could he deny her that? It’s the least she deserves after he failed her - he’s failed so many people that he swore to protect. His vision is blurred at first, but a few blinks clear it up and he could almost collapse right then.

The concern is written all over her face, and he really wishes he weren’t the cause of it. He just wants her to smile, to be that carefree kid he coached on flirting with dudes or sat through Game of Thrones with.

He nearly believes it’s a miracle when she lightens up almost instantly. The smile reaches her eyes, and now he really can’t stop the tears.

“Charlie…?”

She looks up at Sam but he can’t stop looking at her. Her smile starts looking a little forced - and he’s practically become an expert with how many he’s had to fake in recent memory - but it stays plastered on there.

“How?”

She shrugs and her face softens in a mixture of pity and sympathy.

“I guess I couldn’t let go this time. I know exactly what would happen if I did.”

Her eyes flicker to him and he gets it right away. Suddenly he’s putting his walls back up, straightening his back and putting on his best voice of authority.

“You’re saying you gave up your shot at Heaven? What the hell, Charlie!?”

“Do you think I could’ve been happy up there? Really?”

“It’s Heaven! Of course you could’ve been happy!”

“Maybe, but not yet.”

He gets onto his feet, knowing that his full height and build only add more weight to his words.

“Oh, really? And what kind of crap could’ve kept you from movin’ on to see your parents?”

She gets up too, and she’s clearly upset now.

“Gee, I dunno, maybe my best friends beating themselves up over my mistakes!”

And that catches him off guard. She uses the moment to keep going.

“I’ve read the ‘Winchester gospels,’ remember? I know exactly how you two would’ve dealt with this, and I could never be happy knowing you’re tearing each other apart when I’m the one who made the choice to leave.”

“Charlie-”

“No, Sam! You’re gonna listen to me here. I’m gonna tell you both why this isn’t your fault before you burn me and Heaven beams me up for good.”

She’s clearly upset and out of patience, but she takes a deep breath and tries to collect herself before continuing. As a former spirit himself, Dean gets just how hard it can be.

“Sam, I had a target on my back way before you asked me to help decode the book. And even if I didn’t, do you honestly think that would’ve kept me from trying to help anyway?”

He looks a little surprised but he huffs out a breath and shakes his head.

“Probably not.”

“Damn straight.”

Another pause.

“And Dean?”

She’s looking at him now, the smirk she just flashed Sam fading back into that soft smile he’s always adored. He never could get enough of those from the people he loves. He almost can’t help returning it with one of his own.

“Promise me you won’t blame yourself.”

“Charlie…”

“No. Promise me, Dean. It’s not always your job to protect people, and it’s not always your fault when they make dumb choices knowing what the consequences could be. You have to remember that.”

Her eyes start to glaze over and she sniffles lightly, like she’s trying to hide it from him. And how could he deny her anything right now, let alone something so simple?

“Yeah, I promise.”

The next thing he knows, she’s wrapped around him like the day she left after the fear djinn incident. He knows in the back of his mind that this can’t last, that it’s all too good to be true, let alone real, but he just can’t find it in himself to care about that anymore. He can feel her when he wraps his arms around her torso, and that’s enough for him right now.

“I know Sam was being dumb, but it’s because he loves you Dean.”

“I know.”

And he truly does. Because despite what Sam said after Gadreel, it’s always come down to that: one of them making any number of dumb decisions so they can save the other. It’s practically a tradition at this point, and even if it doesn’t happen right away he knows he’ll forgive Sammy sooner or later. That’s a tradition too.

They manage to get in the car and keep heading for the bunker. This time though, the ride isn’t thick with guilt or sorrow. No, it’s just a comfortable silence, because they don’t need words right now. The quiet is peaceful, and it’s even starting to help them heal, if only a bit. The mark doesn’t try to drown it out either.