Fighting Through It All [Dean Winchester fanfic] #Wattys2015

Chapter Twenty: Part Two

After a lot of bickering back and forth, Azeriel finally allowed me to go. He said he knew how, but it was going to be incredibly difficult without being caught. He explains to me that even though the house is Heavenly created, it's not technically Heaven, hence why I could just step down from door and fall to the earth. He disappears for a second, returning and telling me that even though no one is currently there, they could be watching.
"I'm willing to take that risk," I say, giving him a firm nod and stern look. He looks half distressed, but he reaches into his coat, hauling out my angel blade.
"I knew you left it on the island, so I grabbed it in case if you might've needed it," He explains, handing it to me. I thank him, running my thumb over the engraved M in the hilt. Memories of many fights flash through my mind, but quickly shaken away when Azeriel puts his hand to my head.

I open my eyes, and I find myself in the home I spent so many years in. For 25 years, this is where I dwelled and grew up in. I take a shaky breath as I look around, the place much fancier than what I'm used to living in by now. My house in my small town was nice, but not exactly fancy like this. In here, the bathroom sinks are hand hammered bronze, crafted in Heaven's forges. The chandeliers are made out of a less concentrated version of the stuff angel blades are made of, and the floors are trees cut from someone's Heaven.

I keep my sword held tight in my hand as I walk through the house. I round into my weapon's room, flicking on the lights, another million memories flashing into my mind. I shake my head, and walk over to a pile of duffel bags underneath one of the tables, beginning to fill it up. One bag, I fill with guns. The next, knives. Another, I fill with all of my Purgatory blades, each looking similar, but all different based off the engravings in the bone. The one thing that remains the same, is my initials carved into the hilt, above the Roman numerals representing the time I was there.

I stare at all of them in the bag, 15 of them in total. I started going to Purgatory when I was thirteen. Of course, Only had a 20 monster kill goal and a shorter amount of time to do it, so it would be easy for me. The older I got, the longer I was stuck in, and the more monsters I had to kill. My last time, my fifteenth time in, was when I was 24. I was in there for 3 months, and had a 450 monster kill goal. I did it, and came back with only minor scrapes and bruises, and a sprained ankle from a miscalculated cliff jump. It wasn't really a cliff, just ten or twelve feet ledge onto moss. I was running away from Leviathans, and it was my only escape.

I shake my head, shoving other miscellaneous and uncommon weapons into two duffel bags. The last thing on the wall, and probably one of my top 3 favorite weapons, is my bow. It's in a longbow style, type the the lull string ease of a compound bow. The arrows in the quiver hanging next to it are made of angel blade material, meaning they can kill just about anything. I haul both off the rack, putting them onto my back, and endearing into my bedroom.

An inch of dust rests on everything, left untouched after I left. I walk over to my dresser, changing my pants for pants made with Kevlar and stretchy, breathable, slick looking fabric with weapon holsters up and down the legs. I also wear a black tank top with Kevlar in it, with gun holsters on each side, and knife holsters and bullet holders along the chest. I don't fill them, but I slip it on, slipping a black jacket on over it. I look at myself in the mirror. I look similar to the girl from almost 2 years ago, but something in the way I hold myself, like I own myself and like I think for myself makes me seem different.

My eyes are different as well. Instead of being blank, filled with obedience and holding no emotion, they are filled with memories, sights, thoughts, feelings, and ideas. No longer just plain eyes, they tell tales. They tell the story of a girl who has won some battles and has lost some as well. They tell the tale of a girl who has gained and lost, stood strong and run away, loved and despised.