They've got weird teeth

Can I fix your hand?

It's your fault I'm dead.

You had to go and get possessed didn't you?

You worthless, pathetic, freak.

You really think I could love someone that got me killed? Pathetic.

Sam and Dean blame you.

Dean and I got along well in the short time we had and you took that away from both of us!

Why did I have to die? I didn't do anything wrong! You should be the one lying in a cold morgue, but no perfect Karter is lying in Daddy's lap very much alive.

I hate you.

I hate every inch of you Karter Gregson!

"Karter! Karter wake up!"

My eyes flew open to see a panicked Sam looking down at me hands on my shoulders. Dean looking at me from the front seat of the impala that was now parked at the side of the road.

My hand, bloodied and swollen throbbed with pain as I put my hand on Sam's. A small flash of happiness and relief swam across his eyes.

Though my eyes obviously still showed signs of terror as Sam started searching again.

This time not even the need for revenge was there, just an empty shell.

"Karter breathe, you've had a nightmare and if you don't get your breathing under control you are going to have a panic attack okay?"

"She hates me."

Sam's eyes went wide and was instantly shaking his head.

"She doesn't hate you Karter. Listen to me you need to calm down okay?"

Dean had moved from his place by the steering wheel be leaning in through the passenger door rubbing my back.

"I killed her!" Both boys instantly shushed me.

"Karter it wasn't you."

Sam pulled me up so I was sat on his lap, head on his shoulder. Dean slid in next to Sam grabbing the first aid box out from under the driver's seat.

"Hey Karter can I fix your hand please?"

I held the now severely painful hand to my chest.

"I don't deserve it."

Sam kissed my head; a feeling came over me that I hadn't felt in a long time, a feeling of being looked after.

"Please Karter, please."

I took a deep breath and held my hand out to Dean and curled up tighter into Sam.

Dean's hands were rough yet soft as he gently cleaned the crusted blood of my hand. Appologising whenever I winced. 10 minutes later my hand was clean and hand a bandage firmly wrapped around it. Retreating my hand back into the cocoon that I had created from Sam a blanket the Sam had wrapped around the two of us and my knees, I nodded at Dean. Not feeling the energy needed to speak. Sam started singing,

"Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again."

Some way between the first chorus and second chorus I was asleep, feeling more cared for than I had since my mum died.

I woke wrapped up in my bed to the smell of coffee. I smiled reaching over to feel nothing beside me. Everything I was feeling was new, wrong. I was hoping and praying that it had just been a horrible dream but the throbbing pain in my hand and the cold bed next to me pulled me back into the harsh reality.