[h3] Dean and Bobby [/h3]

Dean shook his head at Esme’s words about Duke finding her. Duke had been lost, traveling the world. He may have seemed like he was better off, but Dean liked the word ‘lost’ to describe him. The amount of phone calls he had fielded to Bobby, to try and find help for Duke halfway across the world, when no one else could get to him, had piled up over the years. Duke wasn’t better off without his family, he was on the edge of a cliff and one bad decision would have killed the kid.

“You can’t think of it like that…” Dean spoke up, as Esme turned and he could get a good look at her eyes. Pausing when she looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. He didn’t know the answers to all of this, but he knew that Esme was in control more than she gave herself credit for. She had been plenty upset at times around them, and other than Cason and the situation at the asylum, none of them had been harmed by her. “Well…you know what we do?”

He started his best attempt to talk Esme down, feeling like the only person in the universe that could. But then she suggested that they lock her in the basement and Dean’s expression completely fell into heartbreak. There was no way they were locking anyone in the basement…unless Anna went off the rails, which Dean felt she probably wouldn’t, if she was avoiding conflict.

“No. See, that’s not happening. You’re not some monster to hunt, or to lock away, alright? You’ve been with us for a while. If you were going to hurt one of us, you would have. Cason doesn’t count.” Dean half scolded her, “How about this. I have a better idea. You may not be human, and that may be scary, sure. I’m scared to death about it. I won’t lie to you. But you’re human…enough. Do you hear me? We will figure this out. If it’s connected to demons…we figure it out. Of all places to be, while you figure it out, you’re home. You’re with Bobby.”

Dean paused as he heard Bobby’s footsteps, and he sighed, reaching out and pinching Esme’s chin gently, hoping the familiar gesture would at least make her listen to him, “I told you a long time ago that, no matter what, we’ll figure out what comes next when we make it to that mile marker. This is one of those times. You’re hurt. Let’s get you…not hurt, and then we dive into whatever this is…together. You don’t get to give up, now.”

As Bobby stepped up to the couch, Dean scooted back and slowly stood to his feet, giving Bobby room to step in. Bobby didn’t even acknowledge anything that had been said or happened in the kitchen. He was only concerned about the mess they needed to clean up.

“Well, sit up and let me take a look at that head.” Bobby smiled softly, walking over to his desk. He grabbed the old lunchbox he had laid out before they ever got back. Having a first aid kit on hand when his kids came home was something he was way too used to at this point. He returned and sat on the couch, in a position where he could get a good look at Esme’s head. “Dean you wanna grab me that glass of whiskey that’s sittin’ by the sink? She might need it.”

Dean nodded, stepping away as Bobby parted Esme’s hair carefully and winced at the gash in her head. As Dean stepped back into the living room, carrying a glass of whiskey that looked a little darker than usual, Bobby sat back and smirked, “Well. Good news and bad news. Good news, it’s not quite as bad as you probably thought. Bad news, you’re gonna have stains in your hair for a while.”

“Well that ain’t so bad, is it?” Dean quipped, handing the glass of whiskey to Esme. Bobby opened the tool box and pointed to the glass.

“Drink the whole thing in one drink. I need you numb before I start our little game of operation, here.” He explained, only pulling a penlight from the tool box. If he and Cason were right about their little hunch, he should be able to see her head healing…or at least get an idea of whether things would work or not.


[h3] Duke [/h3]

Duke was surprised as Mika began explaining that she could relate to his potential heavenly experience, because she had been there too. His experience also felt like weeks or months of just reliving the happiest days of his life. Esme was there…a lot. He and Dean were on completely good terms. His mom was alive, and for the first time in years, he could actually remember his mom’s face. His favorite horse was there. He rode his horse around that old pasture for what felt like hours in his head. He saw Mika on his twelfth birthday, the day that Bobby had gifted him a brand new ‘grown up’ black cowboy hat to wear when they went out. He saw everything good that had ever happened to him. No pain. No suffering. No fighting. No loss. 

And then when he woke up, it felt like all of those good memories were fake, or that he was mourning them…like the dead. Mika described his exact experience and the thought that she had gone through that same torment caused him to sniffle sadly. She had never told him anything about her family, other than a brief overview of how they died. It was just something most kid hunters didn’t bring up very often. Those were memories that were better left buried…they all knew that.

Duke sniffled and quickly wrapped his arms around Mika, his arms seeming to work for the first time since he woke up. He didn’t even realize until they were alone how much he just needed to talk to her. She and Esme were the only two people he felt he could open up to, and Mika knew him like the back of her hand. He hadn’t given her much of a choice, all those years ago. He followed her around like a puppy, and that transferred to Dean, until Duke found his independence through running away from home…over and over.

In a way, Duke was surprised, but also drawn back to deep emotion by Mika’s protective words toward him. He knew that Esme being back in the picture had to be hard on Mika, even if she had put a lot of it on herself back when they were teenagers. It didn’t suck any less to see someone you love right back in front of someone they gave their love to, when you made the decision not to ’know’ them anymore. As she pulled back, Duke nodded, calmed enough to turn his eyes down and sniffle, but the words ‘I’m not having him hurt you anymore than he already has’ swam around in his brain. Someone else was acknowledging that he wasn’t the bad guy, after all this time. Someone else was acknowledging that Dean Winchester, the saint, was wrong in the way he tended to shut off and wipe his hands of people, only to let them back in when HE felt like it.

“I hear ya.” Duke whispered, nodding. But another thought was plaguing his mind, and he frowned, stitching his eyebrows together as he tried not to start crying all over again, “It just…I just…It just feels like Dean might be disappointed that I didn’t die back there. You know? Like…this isn’t the first time that it felt like I barged back in on his life. It ain’t even the tenth time, really.”

He paused and took a deep breath, “And Esme too. I mean, I don’t know what’s goin’ on with her, but from the second I showed up, it’s been nothin’ but Hell. Things have been good. But things have also been tense. I see the way he looks at me…even before I died.”

[h3] Anna [/h3]

Anna’s heart skipped a small beat as Sam called her by his pet name for her once again, proving that he truly wasn’t pushing her away. Far from it. He wasn’t afraid of her. He didn’t even seem that worried about the withdrawals she was having. She closed her eyes tight, letting a couple of tears fall against his shirt as she hugged his arm a little tighter. She did feel like a monster. In a way, she felt like Sam was a monster, but they were two halves of a whole…probably because of Hell’s will. Either way, they seemed safer together.

After he kissed her head, she sniffled, staring off into space for a moment, as she thought over everything, trying to rationalize staying away from Sam. It just wasn’t possible, anymore. If there was anyone she needed to forgive, and step closer to in this whole mess, it was Sam. She pulled one of her arms away from his, and wiped her cheeks and nose on her wrist, before pulling her head away from his shoulder and looking up at him.

“I don’t know why you’re all in…but I’m glad you are.” She admitted, scanning his eyes. She knew she looked like a mess. And in that moment, he didn’t care. He just wanted her to be okay, and that was more than a start. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, letting it linger for a moment as she took a deep breath through her nose, placing her free hand on his cheek to feel his heartbeat. After that moment, she brushed his nose with her own and sighed, “I love you.”

[h3] Cason [/h3] 

As Cason lifted his head to look over at Nat, he sighed in frustration, “You know that’s currently my job, right? I don’t know what all that angel fixed and you can’t wait ten seconds? You know I move fast.” Cason scolded her gently, approaching her with a frown on his face. “I will say…you look better than I expected.”

He sat down on the edge of the mattress, picking up his jacket and tossing it over by Nat’s bag. He turned to her, and brushed some of the hair from her face, before placing a finger under her chin and moving her face around. He didn’t say anything as he checked her face over, just pressing on a few spots that he couldn’t determine were bruises or dried blood.

He moved that hand down from her chin, over her chest, brushing the tips of his fingers over what was a very badly broken shoulder. The slight bruising there was faded to the point of almost non existence, and he sighed with relief, brushing his hand down and picking up her wrist. He moved her arm up and down, making sure her shoulder was working as gently as he could.

“Other than all the blood, I think you’ll survive…” He murmured, brushing his fingers over her stomach, before switching to her other arm. It seemed that most of the damage was going to be relegated to soreness. If he wasn’t so disgusted by the idea of angels using their grace on humans, he would thank Castiel. Nat was going to be okay, after all of the torture. “Let me look at your head.”

He gently shifted back on the bed, and turned Nat’s head to the side so that he could see the back of her head better. He let out a sigh of relief as he parted her hair, and there was no gash to be found, only dried blood. He dropped his shoulders and released her head turning her face to look at him, “As much as it weirds me out to say this…you’re fine, sweetheart.”