––  you don’t  get  it ,  ––  if bobby’s voice had sorrow in it ,  sam’s angry half - plead was a stab straight to the heart .  naomi could feel a knot forming at her stomach .  it had been  too quiet  lately  ––  I HAVE T’ TRY !  

              ––  keep y’r voice down ,  kid !  ––  in the end ,  it’s not sam’s strained tone or the secrecy that wraps the whole subject the two men were arguing over that makes naomi jump out from her hearing spot .  in the end ,  it’s the worry in bobby’s voice when he says that .  she can practically see his eyes widening in warning ,  the wrinkled gesture tensing and his knuckles becoming white at his sides .  sam falls quiet ,  or he mumbles something .

     that’s when she hops into the livingroom ,  arching her brows and ignoring the anxiety that’s risen in her chest and spread throughout her whole body .  the sight of sam ,  sammy ,  is a pitiful one .  plainly put :  he looks like  crap .  dark violet bags under his eyes ,  he looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept in  weeks  .   green hues dart quickly from him to bobby ,  who’s shaking his head and shuffling some papers on his desk .

               ––  who’re you tryin’ t’ bring back ,  sammy ?  did you finally come outta the bicloset ‘nd fell for a demon or somethin’ ?   ––  and will she  ever  take anything seriously ?

                ––  nothing .   ––  sam is easy to read for her .  he’s so  emotional  that she can  tell  she said the wrong thing   ( wasn’t that what she wanted to see ? ) .  

     he grabs his leather jacket and seems about ready to take off ,  his expression even darker than it already was .  but  no ,  something was up and they were  KEEPING IT FROM HER .  and there was no way sam was leaving without telling her .  so she sprints for the door ,  a few long strides and her hand is grabbing the doorknob ,  her body barricading the door before sam even manages to reach it .

                ––  who’s dead ,  sammy ?  ––  green hues search his face ,  trying to find something that will make the bubbling anxiety calm down .   ––   who’s dead ?

     and then she sees it ,  sees the exact moment in which his jaw  locks ,  and he drops the jacket back at the couch ,  nostrils flare as his tired ,  angry  eyes tear themselves away from her own ,  settling on the morning sun that comes pouring through the windows .  naomi knows what he’s doing ,  she’s done it one too many times .  if he  stares  long and hard enough ,  then the tears that now threaten to rim his eyes will  go away .  and they do ,  it never fails ,  but not before she catches a glimpse of them .  she’s terrified .

                ––  move ,  naomi  ––  but she shakes her head ,  remains right where she is ,  her breathing becoming shallower as panic starts to settle in her chest .

                ––  NO .  who’s dea ...

                ––  DEAN IS DEAD ,  NAOMI !  ––  he interrupts her ,  his voice shaking just like his hands at his sides ,  balled up in fists . 

                ––  DAMMIT ,  KID !  ––  bobby snaps up from his chair ,  unsure of what to do ,  where to look ,  or who to hold back .

     all the while ,  naomi is frozen in her spot .  it doesn’t hurt ,  no ,  because suddenly there’s no  body  that can ache ,  and no  mind  that can be shot through and through with the pain of the reality that sam’s words carried .  it had been too silent  .    her eyes are still settled on sam’s face ,  but his words are far away .  if that’s what she wanted to hear ,  if she felt any  better  now ,  if she can  move  now because he has to  GET HIS BROTHER BACK  .   and she stares ,  like a fool just stares ,  swallows thickly and doesn’t mind as the salty tears glass over her eyesight .  instead of moving away from the door ,  let sam go ,  her fingers clutch the doorknob harder ,  like a  lifeline ,  like the only tangible reality that she can hold onto in those moments .

                ––  w- what ...  what d’ you mean he’s ...  HOW ?  ––  her voice is small ,  quivering and frail and something about it seems to make sam calm down ,  or at least swallow thickly and relax his hands at his sides ,  burrowing them into his pockets .  there’s something strangely comforting about seeing  one’s sorrow reflected ,  like a mirror ,  in another’s face .

                ––  he ...  he made a deal .  he made a deal with a demon an’ now he’s  ––  sam  stops ,  clears his throat ,  looks away .  they’re both acutely aware of bobby shaking his head ,  though he knows defeat when he sees it .  and defeat is right before him ,  with naomi  knowing  this  ––  he’s in hell .

     it doesn’t take a  genius  to figure out how come dean made that deal .  there’s  ONE PERSON  on this earth that he would do  anything  for ,  including spending an eternity in hell for ,  and he’s standing right in front of her .  she shouldn’t be mad ,  she really shouldn’t  snap  at him but as the tears overflow her eyes and roll down her cheeks ,  her eyebrows knit together and she shakes her head .

                ––  so ...  so you mean he’s in hell ...  because of you  ––  bobby says something then ,  naomi doesn’t listen .  it’s  IRRATIONAL  to blame him   ( not to mention she’d been  as  heartbroken when sam died ,  it never quite made sense how he was back all of a sudden ,  UNSCATHED )  ––  and -  and  HOW LONG  has he been dead ?  huh ??  

                ––  YEAH ,  because of me ,  so ‘m gonna go  fix it ,  ‘re you happy now ?  I’LL FIX THIS !  ––  his words overlap with her own but when she asks for how long he’s been dead ,  he  stalls  and can’t hold her gaze any longer .  naomi’s eyes narrow .

                ––  what ?  he’s been dead for  WEEKS  and you  chose  not to tell me ?  ––  turning back to bobby ,  she sees that he looks exactly like sam and scoffs ,  wiping her cheeks with both her hands ,  seething  ––  IT’S EXACTLY THAT ,  ain’t it ?  an’ now you’re too fuckin’  ASHAMED  t’ look me in the face and tell me .

     she doesn’t need the verbal admission ,  really  doesn’t .  it’s written all over sam’s face .  the remorse ,  the  guilt  and the grief .  she doesn’t need the verbal admission because the silence  SCREAMS  it .  shaking her head ,  naomi lets go of the doorknob ,  feeling her knees weak but still willing herself to stand up tall .  mutters  “ I’M GONNA BE SICK “  and runs into the bathroom ,  kicking the door shut with her foot as she leaned over the toilet, pushing her hair off her face .  she dry heaves for a while ,  feeling the tears run down her nose ,  fall into the toilet water like some gross metaphor for a lake and whatever that could even  mean  to her .  a poet could perhaps make beauty out of her grief ,  the pain that breaks her through and through .  somehow she misses not feeling her body , not understanding her mind .  it hurt less .  bobby’s voice from the other side of the door and sam’s pacing ,  everything’s far away .

     finally ,  she spits into the toilet and flushes ,  looking into the mirror and seeing her marred reflection .  it’s  heartbreaking  and she hates it ,  she hates herself for what she told sam ,  hates them for having lied to her like she was a six year old ,  hates dean for not having told her what was going to happen ,  hates the pain that makes her want to unhinge her jaw like a snake and  scream  until she runs out of curse words ,  out of deities ,  out of pain .  most of all ,  she hates dean for being dead . 

     sniffing ,  she leans over the sink and washes her face ,  braids her long hair and pushes the stray locks behind her ear .  toothbrush ,  eyeliner ,  nothing else she needs from the bathroom .  she slams the door open and pushes past the both of them ,  ignoring bobby’s words that try to explain why they kept it from her .  “ ‘M NOT A FUCKIN’ KID ,  BOBBY ! “  she barks in response ,  climbing up the stairs two steps at a time ,  throwing some clothes ,  the grimoires she’s been studying and all the spare cash she has under the mattress into a bag that she tosses over her shoulder .  again ,  pushes past bobby .

               ––  dean wouldn’t want you t ... 

               ––  dean is dead ,  sam .  and that’s thanks to  you .

     this time ,  she’s the one that reaches for the door ,  grabs her own leather jacket ,  fastens her gun around her thigh garter   ( there are ammunitions in her car’s glove compartment ,  she’s covered ) . 

               ––  fuck you both .

     the slam of the door makes the windows rattle in their hinges .  it’s easy to drive away ,  to toss the bag into the back of her car and check the mirrors ,  floor the accelerator and leave only dust in her wake .