Sacrifice

Something’s going on. You’re jostling around when you just want to lie still. It’s not by your doing, no. The sounds you hear are muffled as though you are underwater, but you know you aren’t. You don’t feel weightless enough to be underwater. You feel heavy and lethargic. Like you’d sink if it were not for something holding you up.

A heavy door slams shut and the metal clamor sends a jolt of pain through your head, the sounds becoming clearer and clearer as you realize someone is carrying you down a set of stairs... in the bunker. The smell and feel of it is unmistakable - you don’t have to see it to know. Even though it’s been empty for nearly a year when the boys abandoned it to go their separate ways, it still carries their signatures: Sam’s cologne, and Dean’s whiskey and clean cotton laundry soap, and the dust of decades gone by.

You open your eyes as you are set into an armchair in the study. Your head wants to roll at first, but you stiffen your neck and look up into Sam’s face. “Sam?”

His eyes are red and puffy, his nostrils look wet. “[Y/N],” he breathes, and relief washes over him.

You want to touch his face, but the strength hasn’t returned to your arms, yet. Your limbs are intoxicatedly heavy. The Angel stands quietly to the side, watching as Sam crouches down in front of you with his hands on your shoulders so you won’t fall over. “I thought we lost you again,” he says, but his voice breaks.

Your head feels heavy, but you turn toward Castiel anyway. It’s difficult to pull your eyes up to make contact, but you do it. “Thank you.” Your raspy voice is a testament to your dry throat.

Castiel doesn’t smile, he doesn’t speak; he merely stares hard at you.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks, searching your eyes. His hands move from your shoulders to the sides of your neck, to your arms.

You nod. “Yeah. Thanks to you.” You steal a glance at Castiel but he stands stoic as ever. “We have to find Dean.” You wince as a sharp pain shoots through your rib cage, but you’re thankful that it’s gone as fast as it comes.

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t know how. He could be anywhere,” he says and runs a hand over his head. “Cas?” He looks at the Angel.

Without breaking his stare, Castiel says, “I cannot find him. You know this, Sam.”

Your heart begins to pound and your mind races. There has to be a way. You have to find him. You didn’t have any trouble before when you first took the job. The first couple of years, it was easy to keep track of him and Sam. But you were stronger, then. Damn him, you think, angry at yourself for falling in love. It made you weak, and nearly cost you your life - and now it may cost Dean’s, too.

You suddenly feel the presence of a fourth being in the room and when you turn, you meet Billie’s eyes.

“Hello, boss,” she says with fake pleasantry, startling Sam, as she glowers down at you.

Castiel locks his gaze on her. Sam scrambles to his feet and stands by your side with one hand on your shoulder.

“Billie,” you say, swallowing hard. “Where’ve you been?”

“Looking for this,” she says, and with a wave of her hand, Dean lies on the floor at her feet, panting and writhing in pain.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice is somewhere between a whisper and a cry.

The malicious grin on her face as she faces Sam is a big red flag. Each time she contracts her fingers, Dean cries out.

Your chest tightens. “Stop!” You lunge out of the chair with some of your strength back, but it’s not enough. After three hurried steps you crash to your knees, but that doesn’t stop you. You crawl to him. He’s got dried blood caked from his hairline down the side of his face to his jawline. What’s still wet trickles in whichever direction gravity deems. “Oh, my God,” you whisper. You can’t keep your hands steady as you reach for him and take his hand. “Dean,” you say, praying he will open his eyes. His breaths are shallow and his lips have gone pale. ”Dean.”

His eyes flutter open. He sees you, but he’s confused. His eyes tell him one thing but his mind tells him another. “[Y/N]?”

You nod, sniffling and blinking away the tears that form along the base of your eyes.

The sound of his chuckle is so good to hear, but he winces under the pain. “So, this is it, huh? This is how I go.” His eyes are heavy, and he’s so, so tired - but he smiles for you. It’s not the big smile he puts on to charm the girls at bars; it’s the little, effortless smile that put you under his spell that night. It’s genuine.

You shake your head. “No,” you say, gripping his hands.

“It’s okay. I’m ready to go,” he says, and he has trouble keeping those eyes open. “Look out for Sammy for me, will ya?”

"No, Dean,” you say. “I’m not here to...” You suck in a gasp of air to stop the threat of a sob from rising up your throat. ”I love you, Dean.”

His eyes pop open and his smile fades. Your heart sinks as you study his face. You regret it. You shouldn’t have said anything at all. You should have known he would never feel the same way-

But instead of turning away, he summons all of his strength to push himself up despite the Reaper’s torture. He scans your face and for a millisecond, you think he just might start to cry. Dean Winchester... in tears for you? He pulls you close, steadying himself with one arm, and buries his face in your hair. “I love you, too,” he whispers against the side of your neck, masking the pain even as Billie’s fingers dance, and you melt into his embrace.

When he lets you go, it’s only because his body is tired and bleeding. It kills you to see him like this and Billie knows it. She’s using Dean to get to you, and if you’ve never harbored any true anger for her before, she’s just thrown gasoline on the tiny fire. Later on, you’re going to find out exactly what happened to his head and who did this to him, but right now, you have a situation that needs tending to.

You run your thumb over his cheek and he leans into your hand. Your heartbeat is stronger now. You stand up on wobbly legs, growing stronger every second with the fuel of the flame growing inside. You face Billie, ready and prepared to defend this man at any cost. “What do you want?”

“What I want doesn’t matter,” she answers in her velvety voice. “What’s right does.”

“That’s a matter of perspective,” you say, feeling the strength seep back into your bones.

You’re squared off against her now, positioning yourself between her and Dean.

She tilts her head to the side. “Have you forgotten that role which you uphold?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then return with me.”

You glance down at Dean behind you. He sees you and manages a little smile with one eye open, the other scrunched tight. You turn back to Billie, look her square in the eye. “No.”

All traces of gentleness leave her face. You know instantly what she is thinking, but before you can react, she’s gone - and she’s taken Dean with her.

“NO!” you scream, panicking. You can’t read her. You can’t feel him. She could have taken him anywhere, and you have no idea where to look. Your heart threatens to beat its way right out of your chest.

“Come on!” Castiel yells, taking the steps two at a time. You and Sam are on his heels. He bursts through the door and out into the drive where Sam left the car. He stops and scans the area as far as he can see. “There!” he growls, and you follow his finger to Billie, and Dean, and a strange swirling dark hole suspended in the air.

“What the hell is that?” Sam asks, and you hear the fear in his voice.

That hole is the reason you became Death. That hole leads to only one place. She’s daring you to challenge her with her devilish eyes. “Loving this sorry excuse for a human being has made you weak,” she spits.

“I knew you wouldn’t go far, Reaper,” Castiel says, his deadpan voice harder than you’ve ever heard before. “She wants you to watch, [Y/N].”

“Watch what?” Sam asks, breathless. Castiel holds him back, but all he wants to do is run to his big brother, no matter the rift between them.

The door to the Empty churns with ugly black plumes of smoke - but it’s not smoke. It’s not anything. It’s unexplainable. You clench your fists as your chest heaves. “No,” you say, seething. “It’s made me stronger.”

The sour look on her face is your cue.

“Billie, don’t,” you warn, but her eyes darken. Before she raises her hand, and with every ounce of willpower you can muster up, you manifest right in front of Dean to block her discharge of pure energy - and the next thing you know, all is black.

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Just... black.

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You’re floating, you think. Are you? Except, it kind of feels like you’re stone still, too.

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Nothing comes from your mouth when you try to call out, not a sound, not even a vibration in your throat.

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Nothing.

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Do you even have a mouth?

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There is one thing you know for sure: you are completely alone. Not another soul for lightyears from wherever here is.

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No one.

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And you can’t see your fingers in front of your face.

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Can Death die? Of course. He did. That’s why you’re where you are now. Wait, where are you again? Things seem a little fuzzy. What the hell is going on?

A strange pressure floods your ear drums with nothing. That’s right - nothing. You hear no wind, no birds, no voices or breaths or branches scraping in the treetops. There are no treetops. Nothing. The terrifying lack of sound allows for much louder thoughts inside your brain, though jumbled they may be. You blink, trying to adjust your eyes, but the sight never changes. Just black. No sound, no light, no smell, no solid ground.

Nothing.

And just as suddenly as the wave of fear takes its hold on you... you know.