Where Do We Go From Here? ↳ Dean Winchester

Thirty- Seven

I wake up the next morning with very little memory of what happened the day before. I can remember taking a pill and then everything after that was kind of a blur.

As I get out of bed, I realize I am only wearing undergarments. This confuses me, because I don't remember undressing myself. I put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt I found in my bag. It doesn't look like mine; it's probably Dean's.

"Sleep okay, RJ?" My brother asks me as I step out of the room. I shrug, not really sure how I'm feeling. He sets a plate of food on the table. "Eat."

"Okay, mom," I mumble. I sit down and start eating the food. Dylan sits across from me and starts eating his own food. I catch him staring at me, so I freeze and lower my eyebrows. "What?" I ask, mouth full of food. He smiles a little, amused.

"Nothing, I'm just so very upset that I missed you being high. I'm sure it was funny." I stick my tongue out at him and continue eating. The door opens and I don't even bother to look up, knowing it's Sam and Dean.

"Hey, you're up," Sam says.

"Yes, I am, detective," I mumble under my breath, still not looking up.

"And grumpy," Dylan says, and I glare at him.

"Hey, you don't know how much this sucks. You've never been high." He doesn't say anything. He just raises his eyebrows and smirks a little. "Of course you have." Suddenly, I remember I need to still tell Dylan about my demon deal. "Hey, what day is it?"

"Tuesday, May 11," he says. The day of my death will be on Thursday, May 13th. Two days away.

"Okay, I need to talk to you," I say suddenly, looking up at my brother.

"Go ahead," he mumbles, looking at the newspaper. When I don't say anything, he looks up at me. I purse my lips together and tilt my head to the side. "Oh, in the hall, right." I roll my eyes and follow him into the hall. Dean and Sam give me a weird look as I pass by them.

"Okay, what?" He asks, as I close the door. I rub my hands together, sighing deeply. I hen smile sweetly.

"So, how have you been?" I ask in a sweet voice. He groans in frustration. I always do this whenever I do something he would disapprove of.

"Oh, God, what did you do this time?" He questions. I sigh again, trying to think of a way to tell him. "Come on, spit it out."

"I sold my soul."

"What?!? When? Why? For who?" He gets freaked out, and becomes alert.

"I sold my soul, on May 13th, 2000, for Dean, because he was dying and I didn't want Sam to lose his brother because that very same thing happened to me and I didn't want him to have to go through that." My answer comes out very quickly. Dylan just looks shocked.

"Please be kidding," he mumbles, rubbing a hand across his face. I shake my head.

"I'm sorry." He gets that look on his face like he's about to scold me or yell at me, so I stop him. "Look, you can yell at me all you want but it won't help anything. I'll be dead Thursday." His face falls, and he suddenly looks like he will break down and cry. I lower my eyebrows and step forward, pulling him in for a hug.

We stay like this, probably for an entire minute. Then I pull away, because I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. Seeing that it is Jasper, I answer it.

"I'm glad to hear your voice," he says, his British accent like music to my ears, causing me to smile. "How are you?"

"Good, I guess. My head hurts, though."