In The Supernatural

Chapter 13

I was trapped in a conscious state of dreams and pain. Every once in a while I would wake up and hear what's going on around me, but, not being able to answer, I'd fall back into the horrific dreams.

~~~~~

"Is she going to be better soon?"

"She has to learn to recuperate on her own. I took out all the bullets so she could without being harmed badly, as was obviously needed, but we need to see how strong she is. I may be an angel, but I don't know everything."

"I really hope she does get better."

"I'm sorry, Dean.... Do you need some alone time with her?"

"Yeah... I do. Bye, Cas."

It was quiet for a few moments, and I thought I left consciousness again, but then Dean spoke again.

"Jules... I'm so sorry. For not believing you, for letting you go, for killing your mom... Its all my fault. I'm so sorry." He started crying. I could tell he was because his tears landed on my skin, cooling it down. Unless it was drool. Oh, I pray he was crying.

I reached out with my mind to see if I could open my mouth and tell him that it was okay, that it wasn't his fault, that I would be all right, but I was still locked in my stiff position, and I left real life and the dreams started again.

~

I don't know how long I was trapped in the deep state of mind, but on the day that I woke up for good, someone was talking to me. His voice was deep and gruff, and kind of muffled, and from the tone, I knew it was Dean.

"Listen, Jules. You are gonna make it. You have to make it. I-I feel it, in my heart. You're strong. Please wake up."

I tried so hard to scream that I was there, and that I knew I would wake up. But I couldn't. It was nearly impossible with the darkness pressing on my mind. I was extremely proud to be able to stay conscious through the speech that Dean gave, because that meant I didn't leave reality and fall back into nightmares.

"I didn't believe you because I didn't want to believe you. I've had this sort of thing happen before, with a boy. And he was already dead by the time I found him. And I thought that if I believed you, you'd die too. And I couldn't handle that.

"And now you're here. And I don't know if you're going to die or not. And it's my fault you're here. It was on my watch when you were taken away.

"I've been to hell before, and it feels like I'm there again. Please, Jules, just wake up."

I really tried this time to wake up. It was so hard, though. The darkness was starting to press in on me again, but I fought it, as hard as I fought against the demon when I went shooting.

It exhausted me. What I think was the first thing that started to wake me up was that I could smell my surroudings. It was a musty smell that made me want to wrinkle my nose. When my fingers twitched because I was fighting the dark force, I was able to have hope that I would be able to wake up. And from the twitching, I was able to move on to circling the fingers.

Dean gasped and said, "You're waking up."

Yes, I am, nerd. Now shut up and let me focus.

I was now able to move my whole hand. It felt good to move, though my joints were stiff. I felt my face shift in a smile and from that movement, I could find where my eyes were, which I didn't know before. And they opened.

The light was bright and it hurt. But I forced my eyes to stay open, and I looked over at Dean, who had an unbelievably bright look on his face.

"Jules," he said, "You're awake."

"Oh really?" I said sarcastically. "I could have sworn this was my heaven: sitting in a bright motel room where the walls are the color of poo."

He barked out a loud laugh. "Oh Jules. Even in pain you're making jokes."

I forgot I was in pain, but when he said that, I remembered. "Ow," I gasped.

His face immediately turned from a look of joy to worry. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just really sore...." Silence. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"How long was I out for?" I was timid in asking because I wasn't sure I quite wanted to hear the answer.

He frowned slightly. "Ten days," he admitted.

Dang. "That's a long time."

"Yeah," he said, "It was. I was honestly worried you weren't going to wake up." He looked really sad for a moment, but then thought better of 'burdening me with his problems' and sat up a little straighter. It was almost like I could read his thoughts.

I tried to lighten the mood a bit, even though I myself wasn't sure I would have woken up either. "Hey," I joked, "look at the bright side. At least I got some well-needed sleep."

The corner of his mouth lifted up. "That's not funny."

"Sure it is. You're just jealous because you're not the one who is well rested like I am."

He let out a soft chuckle. "Shut up." I was happy to know I was able to cheer him up.

Changing the subject, I asked, "Where's Sam?"

Dean pointed to the other motel bed, where Sam was asleep. His face was pushed into the pillow and he didn't look like he was breathing, but from the quiet snores, it was obvious he was.

Chuckling softly, I took a drink of the water that was beside my bed. While I did that, I took my surroundings in.

The floor was just a cream coloured carpet. As I had mentioned before, the walls did look like poo, because it was an ugly colour of brown. Paint was peeling off the walls and water stains were coming from the ceiling.

I didn't know how I knew, but I knew that we were in such an awful motel because Sam and Dean wanted to stay low and not have anyone or anything find me or them.

"Dean?" I asked after a few minutes of calm silence and loud thoughts.

He turned his head to mine and looked me in the eyes. He had an expression on his face that said that he would do whatever I asked of him. "Yes, Jules?"

"I want to learn how to fight. No, I need to learn.  I can't be this damsel in distress anymore that waits on you and Sam to come and fight for me and save me all the time. I need to learn to defend myself so I can just as easily take care of what I need to: which is me, as selfish as that might sound. There's a war that's starting. And I don't know who is on what side. I don't know who's participating. I don't even know what we're fighting over... But I can tell you this: we are going to win. And I want to be there to see it."

I waited patiently for his answer. He couldn't make eye contact with me. He couldn't think straight, that much I could tell. A million thoughts went through his head all at once and I knew it was because he didn't want something to happen to me. The internal fight and love in his eyes was proof enough of that.

He closed his eyes and inhailed deeply, then exhaled deeply.

Then, lightning fast, they burst open and stared straight into mine with a kind of a determination that forced me to lean forward in excitement.

"What do you want to know?"