[2] Hell and Back | d. winchester

21

"Stephanie, listen to me-"

"No! You listen to me, Winchester-" Stephanie Cale prodded the man hard in the chest, making him move so abruptly he was surprised he wasn't already forced back out of the door. "You waltz in here thinking just because you decided, everything is fine! Well it's not, I did it for you and-"

"And you sold your soul!"

"For you! I have seven years now! I have seven more years than I would have!"

"But you're going to Hell-"

"We're going there anyway, Dean!" The room fell silent again, Castiel and Sam Winchester exchanging their weight as they watched the two push back at one and other, the brunette still trying to snarl through her overpowering tears. The silence remained a little longer, until Dean pulled the brunette in an awkward and rigid embrace to which, even though she didn't consent too, she was almost glad to receive. "I have seven years, now."

"I know, Ste." Dean didn't know what to say next, so he just held her until she shrugged him off and pulled the bobble holding her limp pony tail up out of her hair. She grabbed at her jacket slung over the motel sheets and paused, looking at it like she had realised something disastrous yet she hadn't, she just still felt that inevitable nothingness that seemed to be always numbing her. Everything should be fine.

"Everything's back to normal, there's the same amount of demons and vampires and everything else that there used to be."

"I know, Ste."

The girl wiped her face with the back of her hand, sniffling again as although much slower, water still trickled from her puffy eyes. "And-And we're good now. There's no apocalypse, there's no more leviathans, no more Lucifer-no more Crowley." The oldest hunter nodded, carefully making his way back to her, where she now stood on the other side of the motel room.

"I know, Ste. We are."

"Then why the hell did you leave me!" The sobbing returned and Dean cursed, for once letting his brother take over comforting her, he was aware she'd just lash out all over again.

"We had too, Stephanie." Both Dean and Stevie looked to the long haired Winchester, equally shocked. "You sold your soul. You could've been dragged to Hell right there in front of us. And what about me? You're going back there. When we just got you out! And you think we would've just been okay with that? Picked you up and left like a little happy family?" Stephanie looked to the floor, shying away from him in the awkward hug he'd started when she slumped to the floor.

"I-"

"No, you left us and condemned yourself. Of course neither of us would've been happy with that. Would you if it was us? If it were Dean that had done that? If it were me?"

Stephanie placed her head in her hands and shook her head. Of course she wouldn't have, it would've broken her. She would've felt helpless and powerless and guilty and almost like she'd pulled the trigger to either of their temple's herself. She sighed again.

"Exactly."

Stevie pulled her arms around herself and scowled. Get a hold of yourself. And as the thought slapped her, Dean could see it so easily it was almost like she'd said it out loud. The glazed tears were blinked away and she growled through gritted teeth. She wasn't in the wrong here, but if it had been Dean or Sam, she would've wanted to kill them both, Crowley and herself and even that wouldn't have matched the pain and frustration Stevie's actions have caused them. She went behind their backs and sold her soul to the Devil, for Christ's sake. She growled again and wiped her nose more ferociously, pulling at her cardigan sleeve and letting out a very loud pant of air. The hunter jumped to her feet, stretched her arms and looked around at them all, just about to speak before she was interrupted.

"But we love you Stephanie. I love you, Dean certainly loves you-" he gestured to his brother and made the smallest amount of eye contact. The kind that certified 'I'm-not-hitting-on-her-I-swear' and 'I-really-don't-want-you-to-punch-me' towards his brother, who grunted quietly and looked back to the run-down looking brunette. Stephanie looked ghostly and Dean sighed at the thought. When will this life of theirs have less pain than the constant? "But it fucked us over, Steph. That doesn't mean we love you any less, it just means we can't stand and watch your death sentence and welcome you back with open arms."

Stephanie smiled a little, one of those sad smiles you'd throw at someone who was mourning and you are completely unsure what to say, if anything. She stood a little longer, watching the males in the room in an uncomfortable uncertainty. Eventually, she sighed again and shuffled, looking at them all guilty. "I'm sorry."

No one reacted and Stephanie said it again, pulling at her cardigan but then she ran a finger through her messy hair and spoke again; "But-I now have seven more years than I had before. I have seven more years to spend with you and that's more than I would've had for certain before all this." She looked at her odd socks and rubbed her feet against the carpet, finally looking back up to them when she mustered the strength. "And I'm happy I did it."

Dean grunted, shoving his hands in his leather jacket, the one she loved, and grunted again. They'd been over this but it didn't mean it pissed him off any less. They felt they like they were going in circles, at least until she continued. "If you did it-" Dean shook his head like he never would, and it soon became very clear Stevie was speaking directly to him at this point. "If you did it for me, Dean-" at the sound of his name croaking out of her dry throat, his eyes found themselves on the regretful glazed hazel of her recently crying ones. "Then you would feel the same. You would've just stopped the apocalypse, you would have just-"

"Given myself a death sentence."

"Gave yourself seven certain years with me." And Dean was speechless again. He shuffled a little and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"I hate you." He muttered through an emerging sad little grin, looking at her with those big swooning eyes and she rolled hers in return. He was then walking up to her and cupping her cheeks. "So much." He finished.

"No, you don't." They were whispering, their lips uncomfortably close for the other two witnesses in the room.

"No-" he kissed her, placing rough lips against her own split ones for the first time in what felt like much too long. "No, I don't."