#tildeath

It'd been two weeks since you left Indiana with the brothers and so far nothing had come of it. There was no hint of where Sara could be. Sam searched everywhere from online to public records in libraries. Nothing. It infuriated you that you couldn't remember anything about where she had been taken. The only information you had was the name of the agency that Sara was adopted through.

Which is why you were currently on your way to your hometown in South Dakota. A place you hadn't set foot in in years.

With nothing else to do, you let your hands fall to your lap and stare out the window. Not that there was much to see. Iowa was all flat land. Boring.

Your mind runs back through the past couple weeks.

The most prominent thing to happen was meeting Castiel. Because apparently, angels exist now. Your head was still throbbing with the revelation. Being an atheist, it was difficult to be forced into changing lifelong held beliefs.

Oh, and they could magically heal people. You placed your hand over the area that was once crudely stitched together skin. Now there wasn’t even a scar. Frankly, it creeped you out. But for the purposes of your mission it was helpful.

When you had asked Sam and Dean why they had an angel in their pocket, you didn’t get much of an answer. ‘Long story’ was the offered response. Then they were weird around you sometimes, doing their little silent conversations or whisper-arguing to each other when they thought you weren’t watching.

They were hiding something from you. Something big.

You decided not to push it though. You had Sara to worry about and you weren’t going to get far without the brothers’ help.

In no time, the impala was driving up to the entrance of Harmony Adoptions.

“Alright, what’s the game plan?” Dean spoke up, looking to me through the rearview mirror. Right. This was my deal.

“Umm... FBI?” you said uncertainly. You hadn’t really done anything like this before. Most of the cases you hunt don’t require posing as authority to get answers.

Sam shook his head. “I wouldn’t. Not with adoption agencies. They will be tight-lipped. You know, red tape and all. They’ll request a warrant before releasing anything to you.”

“Well, that’s all I got,” you shrugged. You all sat in silence for a moment, watching the place as you thought.

The front door pushed out to reveal a couple holding hands, speaking to what appeared to be an employee as they left. They looked hopeful, the man smiling widely before planting one on the girl’s temple. Then they departed.

“Lightbulb,” you suddenly said, pushing yourself up to the front seats. Dean crooked an eyebrow at you. You gestured toward the couple that just left.

“Pose as a couple wanting to adopt,” Sam finished your thought out loud. You nod. “That could work. It would get us into the building, get a tour of the facilities...”

“Exactly,” you said. “So... who’s the lucky couple? I personally think gay sells.”

Both screwed their faces up, a clear shutdown of the idea - which made you chuckle. Sam wagged his finger between you and Dean.

“You two go ahead. I don’t think me and Y/N would really pass as a couple.”

Dean quickly scrutinized you two. “Yup, you got that right.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean shot back with a crooked grin. He then looked straight to you. “Guess it’s you and me, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Your heart beat slightly faster. You cleared your throat before continuing, “It’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Make an appointment.”

With a plan in place, the impala pulled out of the lot in search for a motel. Something that had been interesting in terms of sleeping arrangements the past couple weeks. If there was a couch, usually that’s where you slept since neither Sam or Dean could fit comfortably with their large frames.

However more often than not, a couch was out of the question in motels. By then it’s a game of rock, paper, scissors for the floor. It made you feel slightly guilty because Sam usually got the short stick.

You would get your own room, but that meant more money that neither of you had. You tried not to use your fake card more than necessary. You know, keep the felonies to a minimum.

It took a minute to find one that wasn’t completely skeevy, but finally a small family owned place was found on the outskirts of town. Which was even better. Less likely to run into trouble.

After you all checked in, and Sam relegated to the floor once again, Dean announced he was going on a food run. Which likely included a bar stop, so we’d not see him for a while.

And now, during this down time with Sam, it was hard to ignore your growing thoughts about the town you were currently in.

Something else occurred to you too.

“Hey Sam, I’ll be back in a bit,” you said as you pulled on a coat. Sam was looking for something in the leather journal the boys always carried around. He quickly looked up after you spoke though, the journal closing as he raised from the bed.

“Woah, hey. Where are you going?”

“It’s not really any of your business.” You got defensive. You couldn’t help it, but the look on Sam’s face made you backtrack. “It has nothing to do with you, okay? I just need to check something.”

“Well, Dean took the car and the only thing within 5 miles of us is a quickie mart.”

You forgot about the car.

“I’m walking,” you declared. It’s not like you didn’t know how to get there from here. It would just take 3 times the amount of time. You gave a sharp nod to yourself, cementing the new plan into your mind.

“I’m coming with you.”

Ugh. You shook your head at him again. He was a cool guy and all, and he was helping you out big time with your sister, but sometimes you questioned how this kid hunted with his personality.

“I’m 26 you know. Just like you,” Sam said, his lips turning upward. You had muttered your thoughts out loud by mistake. “And as for my character… well, there’s a lot you don’t know Y/N.”

Again, you wanted to know what him and Dean had been whispering about behind your back. It unnerved you, not knowing. Yet, the way he said that made you think he was talking about something else.

Sam cleared his throat after a beat. You just stood there lost in your thoughts but snapped out of it when he spoke again. “So, where to?”

Deciding to give up on getting rid of the bodyguard, you let out a sigh and opened the door.

“Somewhere painful.”

Barren. The place was nothing but old walls and scratched floors. There wasn’t even a folding chair or an old lamp sitting in a corner. Just empty. Forgotten.

Kind of like how you felt.

You began to ask yourself why it was a good idea to come back to your old home. Wondered what possessed you to travel across town by foot to a place that held more bad memories than good.

Sam wavered at the front entrance, settling for leaning against the door jamb and staring at the opposite side while you trailed your hand along the wall of what used to be the den.

It wasn’t a big house. One story, two bedrooms, one bath. The tiny kitchen and  den shared space, then the rest was down a hallway. It surprised you, how much you remembered.

There used to be a horrid plaid couch that sat in the dead center of the room, facing the small window. You used to abhor that couch. The color, the smell, the texture. You hoped it went to a dumpster after you were taken away. Or lit on fire.

You could still imagine the bookcase filled with cheap board games and puzzles since you didn’t own a tv. The kitchen had a drawer next to the oven that would stick unless you banged on the counter. The leaky roof. The tire swing in the neighbor’s backyard. Your sister singing along to Bon Jovi with a hairbrush in hand and an air guitar that rivaled your own.

A sob left your lips.

“Y/N?”

With wobbly knees you eased to the floor. Sam had joined you, shoulders knocking into each other. He didn’t say anything as you felt a single tear slide down your cheek.

Suddenly you slammed your hand into the laminate flooring. The smacking sound that accompanied it made Sam flinch.

“I hate her,” you slammed your hand again. “I hate her for dying.”

Sam got more comfortable, spread his legs out. “Your mom?”

You nodded your head. Memories of your mother were bombarding your mind. Good and bad, but mostly bad. Like the nights she’d come home drunk at 2 in the morning or the time she sold your bed frame to make rent that month.

You wished there were more times like when you’d all played monopoly, or being taken to the park on a Saturday morning because mom insisted it was too nice to stay inside. 

Wished for more times when you loved her rather than resented her.

It didn’t matter much now, though. She was gone and left a shit storm behind for you and Sara to deal with alone. You’d resigned yourself to that a long time ago.

After a moment of silence Sam opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated.

“Just ask it.”

He blew out a breath.

“Your mom. Did she die because of…” he trailed off before gesturing to himself. ‘A monster’ was what he was trying to say. You gave a hard chuckle in response.

“Not even close,” you said with a shake of your head. “No, she died driving drunk and running right into a pole.”

Mom was a struggling recovering alcoholic. She would try so hard to stay sober, but never made it past a month or two. You remembered walking into the kitchen one night after she’d fallen off the wagon again. Saw her stare at the empty liquor bottle before bursting into tears.

I’m so sorry, baby. I’m not strong enough.

You looked to Sam again when he gripped your shoulder and gave him a grim smile.

“Why come back if you hate the place?”

“I had to see if it was still there, I guess.”

His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “It?”

“The light,” you replied softly. The good. The happy moments. You swiped at your now dry cheek. “And it is. Come on, I just remembered something. Then we can go.”

You hoisted yourself up and Sam followed you down the short hallway. You opened the creaky door to your’s and Sara’s old room. It was weird to see it so bare, but the walls were still blue and funnily enough the plain white sheet that acted as the partition to your closet was still there.

Walking over and pulling it back, you found what you were looking for with the natural light filtering in from the window.

Your hand brushed against the uneven surface of your name cut into the baseboard of the back closet wall. Right next to it, was Sara’s.

One boring night you two decided to immortalize yourselves and all you had that was sharp enough was your house key. It took forever with the dull edge, something you both groaned over after the fact. You had to have been fourteen at the time, making Sara seven. 

And now it was going to be the second thing you had of your sister.

“Help me take this out.”

An hour later and you were back at the motel, Sam in tow and the pried piece of wood in your hand.

TAGS

Forever/Everything: @deangirl-samcurious-0124-0502 @katsanders

Dean: @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @dreamilysparklyenthusiast @nerdwholikesword @angelsandwinchesters @iwriteaboutdean