It's a Normal Life For Me: Part 1

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May 27th, 2010

In the days following Sam's death, I couldn't bring myself to get off of the couch. Dean, for the most part, holed up in Lisa's room with a bottle of whiskey. Nate sent a few texts, trying to check on me, but I had no interest in doing anything.

I could tell I was starting to make Ben uncomfortable, and guilt crept in because I'd essentially taken over his house. But escaping my own thoughts seemed impossible. All I could think about was Sam being trapped down in the Cage, about the horrifying images of Lucifer and Michael torturing him for what we had done to them.

Most nights, I'd wake up screaming, haunted by nightmares about Sam and what could be happening to him. The first couple of times, Lisa and Dean came down in a hurry to check on me, but eventually, they stopped checking.

A few days later, Lisa had set up a bedroom for me. Honestly, I wasn't sure if it was because she wanted me to have a room or if she wanted me off of her couch. So, I finally pulled myself up and walked upstairs. She had the curtains pulled back nicely for me and strings of lights decorating the room.

It looked really pretty, and I appreciated what she was trying to do, but I went around the room, unplugged the lights, and closed the curtains. Then, I curled up in my new bed and cried under the covers.

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June 22nd, 2010

I had finally managed to drag myself out of bed, but rarely left my room except to shower and occasionally eat. I usually drew to occupy my time, and most of my drawings were sketches of monsters we had faced in the past. A few of them were of the three of us or just Sam. I decided to plaster them all over the walls. Once I finished drawing something new, it immediately went up.

After a while, I noticed Dean leaving the house a lot. He would be gone for a while and come back late at night. He always carried a backpack, and depending on the time of night, he smelled like whiskey. So, finally, I decided I would see what he was up to when he got back.

One night in the middle of June, I decided to wait up for him, and when he came stumbling into the house with a bag, I met him at the door.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Whoa, I think that's the first time I've heard your voice in like a month," Dean slurred.

I nodded. "What have you been up to?"

He looked down at his bag and shrugged. "Nothing."

"Really?" I asked and unzipped his bag and exposed a bunch of occult books inside. "Is there a case or something?"

Dean shook his head. "No, no, of course not."

"Then what are you looking for?" I asked.

Dean sighed and looked at me sadly. "I'm trying to save Sam."

I shook my head. "But Sam said—"

"I know what Sam said," Dean snapped. "But I'm not going to let him rot down there."

I looked at him sadly and nodded. "Why wouldn't you ask me to help?"

He walked past me and into the kitchen. "'Cause honestly, I was worried to get you involved."

I shook my head and followed him. "Why?"Dean looked at me. "Maddi, I wasn't joking when I said that was the first time I heard your voice in a month. I barely see you at breakfast. I check on you every night to see if you're actually getting sleep." He shook his head. "Do you even know how many times I've gotten you back to sleep after your nightmares?"

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