Silver Stars ➣ j. kline

seven

➣ [ GIVEN ENOUGH ] ➣

— ➣ —

ARYA WARNER FELT like a scared child in a lightning storm hiding under her bed from the loud sounds she was sure were the sound of monsters coming to get her.

Instead, the young girl was curled against the wall just outside Jack's room. Her legs were pulled up to her chest with her forehead resting against her knees and her hands covered her ears. She could faintly hear Sam and Dean discussing what to do about Jack's predicament.

That was the monster she was hiding from: the truth. And the truth was, Jack was dying and she couldn't do a thing to stop it.

"D-Dean, I can't heal him! Why can't I heal him!" She had cried to the oldest Winchester in a panic, tears streaming down her face.

The tears had stopped long ago, leaving a dull ache that refused to go away. It had strengthened in the time she'd sat outside the door, waiting for Castiel and Thelsiel to have the same result she did. The longer they stayed in there with their unnerved hushed voices that she tried to block out, the more her small flame of hope faded.

She didn't understand. Why couldn't she heal him? She was the Angel of Dreams, a powerful, otherworldly being that could control the dreams of mortals with a mere thought. She was a nephilim! Why couldn't she heal the love of her life? Questions floated through her chaotic mind as the sounds around her were drowned out by the cacophony of doubt and grief.

The only thing that pulled her out of it was the opening of Jack's door. She sprung to her feet, a small, desperate piece of her begging for it to be Jack.

That hope was quickly squashed when she watched the two angels walk out, deeps frowns on their faces.

"What's wrong with him? Is he awake?" The questions sprung from her lips before she could seal them.

The angels made eye contact and Castiel sighed, turning to the brothers while Thelsiel put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She quickly shrugged him off, fear bubbled deep in her chest, threatening to spill out, but she swallowed it.

"What is going on?" She demanded, refusing any kind of comfort until Jack was well.

What if he doesn't get better? A small voice whispered. Shut up. She hissed back.

"W-We did what we could but I—we don't—" Castiel let out a frustrated sigh "—we don't know what's wrong with him."

"But you can figure it out, right?" Dean pressured, he looked to Thelsiel. "I mean, hell, Arya said you've got a library."