Bloodline (Supernatural)

33 - 'Hell Can Break the Best of Us.'

I better get into Heaven after this, I swear. I don't want to be in that hole ever again.

I've landed myself in a hospital room, not at my insistence. Following long negotiations with the King of Hell himself, the toll finally caught up to my body. On our way out, I collapsed. Next thing I know, I'm here.

I'm alone in the room, with tubes and IVs stuck in my skin. I want to rip them out. I perk up at the sound of footsteps.

It's just Dean, for now. The elder Winchester looks as tired as me, and I've had a recent Hell tour.

"Guess I've got good timing," says Dean as he finds the chair near my bed. "How do you feel?"

"On the mend." I wince, sitting up a little bit. "Where's Sam?"

"Back with your mom. Our trip to Hell really shook her up."

I quirk my mouth. "I can't blame her, it was her first time."

"We just got her to leave your room. Sam convinced her, so I'm taking shift. More than likely you'll get a visit from her soon."

"I'd really like that." I inhale. "Did the demons leave you for dead when they took me?"

"Yeah, their mistake." A grim smile settles onto his face. "There was a lot of tension for a while, mostly because your mom had a cow with the both of us."

"Yeah..."

"Point is, you're the MVP, Wills. You managed to do something none of us ever thought possible: you got hunters an out. A permanent out."

"I guess Crowley realized how it benefited him."

"Doesn't mean we won't finalize some things before we hang up the guns and knives for good, though. Gotta make sure the network keeps on all the supernatural things."

"There's such a thing?"

"What, did you think Sam and I were the only hunters around?"

I shrug, wincing. "The way the demons made it sound, yeah."

"We're just the most infamous, that's why." There's a heartbeat of silence. "Listen, Wills, the path to recovery ain't going to be easy. But Sam and I, we'll offer as much help as we can to get you through whatever you got to work through."

I sniff. "Thanks. Uh, I know my sense of time has been gone for a bit...how long was I in Hell?"

Dean looks down at his hands. "Two months."

I laugh uneasily. "Is that all?"

"Well, if you had a lot of time to think, you might've realized Hell time works differently than here."

"How long, Dean?"

"You were in Hell for twenty years."

My head pounds as I try and comprehend the math. But that is sidelined temporarily by the question that comes out of my mouth: "H-how could you know that?" How come I don't look older? If I go by Dean's logic, I should be in my mid-thirties already.

"I did time in Hell. Forty years."

So four months in Hell. And I thought I had it bad. What did you do, Dean? "Crap. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's not something that I like to talk about, so no need to apologize for not knowing. If you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen. I'd know the experience better than anyone."

Will I ever be able to open up about it, though? I killed you and Sam in Hell. No. They were demons wearing you guys. I killed Cas...oh, Cas. Tears brim in my eyes, and before I can stop myself, I start crying. Dean lets me without interruption.

"It's okay, Willa," he says gently. "It's a safe space here."

"You don't—you don't know why I'm crying," I insist, wiping the tears off my cheeks. "You don't know..."

"Hell can break the best of us."

"That's not what I mean, Dean. I...I did something really awful, and Hell tricked me to do it."

Dean grabs the tissue box near him and hands it to me. "I'll make sure to grab a trash can so you can shoot your snot balls into it."

I let out a squeak of a laugh, but the inner pain stomps it out quick.

"If you want to keep it to yourself, that's your right. Just know when you're ready to talk, Sam and I will listen. Or if you just want me to talk to, that's fine too."

"Thank you." I wipe my nose with a tissue. "You, uh, think you can get me some food? Like, good, non-hospital food?"

Dean chuckles. "I suppose I could do that. Least I can do, considering what you've just done for Sam and me."

Once I give Dean my order, he sets off in search, and I'm left alone with my thoughts. The magic hums in my veins but on a lower caliber than before. Soon it'll be a nonexistent thrum, and I'll be me again.

But who does this make me, now? I can't really claim to be Willa Routh, a sophomore without a clue as to who her dad is. I can be Willa Winchester, daughter of Sam Winchester, niece to Dean Winchester...but not a hunter. If I mix in the right pieces, I'll figure it out.

My stomach rumbles in happy relief when Dean returns with my food. He got some for himself, too, so we eat in silence for a time.

"You juiced up, didn't you?" is Dean's first question since food has been brought.

I keep the fry between my fingers, focusing on it. There's no point in dodging the question. "Finn persuaded me. He presented it as a way to get my strength back. A ticket to get me out of Hell once I helped him with..."

Dean rubs his face. "We'll have to get you to detox. Good thing you've got people who know how that goes, so we know what we're in for."

"Do I want to know how or why you do?"

"Not my place to say. You'll have to ask Sam to tell you that."

I swallow.

"How long have you been on the blood kick?"

"I can't say for sure. They didn't exactly have a clock and calendar in my room."

"Well, then I guess we'll err on the side of caution and say that you've been doing it for a little too long. Once you're discharged, we'll get you back to the bunker with us. We'd rather you be in a place where you don't pose a risk to others."

I swallow, wondering what the process will entail. I'm scared to find out, but I know it has to be done. If I'm cleaning my hands of hunting that means the demon blood drinking goes too. Will I miss the boost it gives me? Oh, for sure. I liked the feeling of being better than human.

But if I'm ridding myself of all things hunter-life, this has to happen. No matter how grueling it may be.

**Can we just take a moment to appreciate #softuncle Dean?**