Mystery Spot

15

Dean looked through the trunk of his Impala quietly, taking out a few weapons and putting them into a duffle bag. His mind drifted to what his siblings had been put through. Sam was straight up angry in the end while (Y/n)... well, he couldn't tell what she was feeling at the time. A voice in the back of his mind went back to what had happened at Crawford Hall, the discomfort and pain that went through his sister's eyes when she was around the trickster. But, the other part of his mind pushed it away- at least they had figured the case out... turning out to not really be a case.

Footsteps approached after Dean slammed his car's trunk shut. "Are you sure we should just let the trickster go?" Dean froze when he turned around to face a man who held a gun, pointed directly at the Winchester.

"Give me your wallet," the man's hand shook as he nervously shot out his demand.

Dean slowly lifted his hands, eyeing the man and the gun. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, buddy. Just relax." His siblings lived through too many Tuesdays. He'd be damned if they had to deal with yet another death.

"I am relaxed!" The man's voice rose as he began to shake harder.

"Okay, alright," Dean nodded, his green eyes now looking into the man's eyes. "Nobody wants this to end the wrong way. Let's talk about it a sec."

-

(Y/n) was standing outside the diner, legs crossed over one another as she leaned on the building. Her phone was in one hand while the other crossed under her arm. There was a voicemail that had been highlighted for the past ten minutes, one that she wasn't yet ready to hear. The whole situation she had been put through was still sewing its way into her head, stitching everything together.

A gunshot snapped her head from her phone, a frown reached her lips at the sound. Quickly pocketing her cellular device, (Y/n) broke into a sprint, racing back to her motel.

But she was much too late when she reached the parking lot. Sam was holding a limp Dean in his arms, trying to shake him awake while closing his eyes.

"Sam!" She ran over to her brothers, taking Dean into her own to see what had happened. A gunshot wound leaked crimson on her brother's chest. "No..."

Sam opened his eyes, staring down at his brother and sister. "We're supposed to wake up," he breathed, tears forming in his eyes. (Y/n) moved to where she was right next to Sam, crying into his shoulder at the new loss of their brother, except this time, he wasn't going to wake up.

Dean Winchester was truly gone.

(Y/n) was standing outside the diner, legs crossed over one another as she leaned on the building. Her phone was in one hand while the other crossed under her arm. There was a voicemail that had been highlighted for the past ten minutes, one that she wasn't yet ready to hear. The whole situation she had been put through was still sewing its way into her head, stitching everything together.

A gunshot snapped her head from her phone, a frown reached her lips at the sound. Quickly pocketing her cellular device, (Y/n) broke into a sprint, racing back to her motel.

But she was much too late when she reached the parking lot. Sam was holding a limp Dean in his arms, trying to shake him awake while closing his eyes.

"Sam!" She ran over to her brothers, taking Dean into her own to see what had happened. A gunshot wound leaked crimson on her brother's chest. "No..."

Sam opened his eyes, staring down at his brother and sister. "We're supposed to wake up," he breathed, tears forming in his eyes. (Y/n) moved to where she was right next to Sam, crying into his shoulder at the new loss of their brother, except this time, he wasn't going to wake up.

Dean Winchester was truly gone.

- Six Months Later -

After the eldest Winchester had passed, (Y/n) and Sam grew apart.

Sam was hunting like it was nobody's business, and it scared his twin. He grew angry when (Y/n) told him to take a break, or not bother looking for the trickster- which he had been doing on the side. Soon enough, she couldn't take it anymore and left Sam to do things on his own.

The voicemail (Y/n) had avoided reading was still unread six months after it was sent. A few texts were added but stopped being sent after two weeks of her not responding. How could she talk to him? Dean's dead, and it's his fault.

She went back to Bobby's, only to lock herself in the spare room she could call her own and answer calls to people who needed help on their hunts-- regarding information only. The only time she walked down the steps was to get coffee, food, or a book that had information she did not.

After his sister left him, Sam became a hunting machine. He hunted on his own, getting his information off the web and the weapons from the trunk of Baby.

Bobby sent him multiple voicemails throughout the months of them not talking, asking for Sam to call him back- and talk to (Y/n), who he had called a walking zombie.

Each motel Sam went to, he put up pictures and articles involving the trickster from the Mystery Spot as well as any information on the pagan gods. It had become an obsession, to which Bobby had hoped he didn't have over the months. The last two voicemails from Bobby showed that he was concerned.

"Sam? Bobby again. Look, I'm worried about you- and I'm sure if (Y/n) could talk, she'd say the same. Just tell me you're not sitting alone somewhere, obsessing over this damn trickster. Call me, Sam. We can find it together, and I'll bring (Y/n) along. Whatever you two are 'fighting' about needs to be over. No man should take something like this on alone. You hear me? By the way, that vampire nest in Austin- hell of a job."

"Sam? It's Bobby. I found him."

-

At the beginning of month six, (Y/n) felt it was time to hear the voicemail. Each day that passed with her looking at it made her feel queasy and guilty. Sometimes, she'd freak out for no reason- like not listening to it was slowly killing her.

It was five in the morning when a nightmare woke her from sleep, Dean and Sam both dying in this one. They didn't happen too often, but when they did, it hurt her the most.

(Y/n) switched on her nightstand lamp and eyed her phone warily. Part of her told her to leave it alone, while another screamed that whatever feelings she had been feeling for the past six months would slowly go away.

"(Y/n), this is Gabriel. This is going to be a hell of a message, as there's a lot to say.

"My intention wasn't to cause you physical or emotional pain you have to understand that. When I started to replay Tuesday for Sam, I tried to make it so you wouldn't remember either, which I know sounds terrible now that I'm saying it... but you're immune to whatever I throw at you, as you could tell by remembering all the loops you went through.

"I figured that by now, you would understand that you can't save Dean. Going to Hell for him is inevitable, as is death in general... except when it comes to you Winchesters. You three always find a way to break the rules." He laughed lightly as his own joke, bringing a little light to the message. "I don't expect you to forgive me any time soon (Y/n). You had to watch your brother die over and over again... and now, he's not coming back.

"There's a lesson to this one, I know deep down that you've accepted Dean going to Hell, don't try and tell me different. But Sam-- he's a different story. This is no joke, but it's on him... this version is on him." Gabriel sucked in his breath. "Try to keep Sam from killing himself from non-stop hunting, okay? I'll see you when you're ready."

(Y/n) removed the phone from her ear, a rogue tear escaping right afterward. She should've read this as soon as her soulmate sent it.