COLD

Twenty-One

"You talk as if this is all my fault! You have to remember Crowley showed him the Mark, and Crowley got him into this mess... but... he's probably the one who can get him out, too,"

"But what I'm thinking, is he got away somehow... now whose fault is that?" I asked something fairly obvious that was just meant to take another stab at Sam.

"Not mine! It couldn't be! And even if I had been there when Crowley got him out, he's the freaking King of Hell, I couldn't stand his power and Dean's! You can't place this all on me, Hannah..." he calmed down and asked me to hug him. I of course did and broke down. "You're stressed, and trying to piece this all together... but you can't place the blame where it doesn't belong - not on me, not on yourself... this isn't our fault..."

"I know... can I just... I need to go to sleep... we can talk tomorrow in the morning..."

He didn't want me to go on sleeping, like I'd promised him I wouldn't do, because it was a part of me being strong. But I wasn't really all that strong... and this was all that felt right to me.

***

We discussed all our options, all that we could do, and again, Sam left me behind, this time with Castiel, in order to try and solve this before it got any worse, before Dean killed anyone else, or became worse than he already was. Two months of researching and searching passed, feeling like years upon years, or how Dean described his time in hell... how four months felt like forty years in hell... well this was my hell on earth, and it felt like twenty years, painfully dragging, piercing hooks into my skin, one for each day he was gone, one deeper and deeper til they reached my heart, then pierced that too, and left scars for the time I missed him, for the time I dreaded and feared what he was doing, what would happen to him, what would happen to me if he never came back with our brother... but worse, I was pricked in the stomach, by something so seemingly harmless, something that should leave happy, grandiose butterflies in my stomach... or a grandiose concern...

Since Sam had had no luck he returned for some time while he did some more research, and kept an eye on me... he would end up having to do more than just keep an eye on me...

"Hey Sammy... Can I talk to you? Please?"

"Yeah what's up?" he didn't look up from his laptop except for when I first entered the room, but then his attention went back to the computer.

"Well, uh Sam... it's kinda.. I mean, it's really... really important... I need your full attention, please,"

My stomach was upset and I was nervous. He closed his laptop now and leaned forward and asked me to sit down. He saw I was flushed in my face and saw how fast I was breathing. He held my hands in his when he realized that I was talking about something that might have serious detriment...

"What's going on, Sis?"

I stared at his hands, a glaze over my eyes with tears, either from anger or confusion, or happiness? Maybe sadness? But then I came to terms that it was most likely all of those, in a highly ambivalent state...

"Hey... it's alright... *pause* did you hurt yourself again?" there was silence...

And then I started giggling hysterically thinking it was insane I was even going to say any of this.

"I think... I think I... I'm..." what was the right way to say this without scaring him? "I... uh..." again, giggles flooded the room. Then silence, as a slight smile lingered on my lips, "You're an uncle, Sammy... I think, at least..."