The Runt of the Litter

The Monster Resembling You

Sam stared at her for a moment, and she saw pain in his eyes that she hadn't expected. She didn't understand his demeanour now the way she had just a few minutes ago. That note had changed everything for her, but Sam had the same deadened look in his eye. He lacked the hope that she had, and it made no sense to her. Dean was alive. He had to be. Nobody else would write Sammy, let me go, on a note and leave it in his room. Nobody but Dean. He was just scared. He'd been scared for a long time, since shortly after he got the Mark when he first realized that there was a danger to it that he hadn't stopped to consider when he met Cain.

She'd been shielded, she knew, from the worst of what the Mark did to her brother. She knew because when it seemed to her that nothing had changed, the boys would get back from a hunt and Dean would keep his distance. He'd started deflecting her every time she tried to be affectionate, the usual hugs and kisses disappearing rapidly from their relationship. She thought, on some level, that it shouldn't have been weird not to get a kiss on the forehead or a hug when they got back for a hunt or just when she felt like it, but... on the other hand, it was weird. It had always been part of her relationship with Dean, ever since she was a little kid. She hadn't even thought about it until suddenly attempts to hug him were met with subtle efforts to maintain distance between them. Side steps, 180s, and sudden needs to grab things off bookshelves across the room had all stopped taking her by surprise about a week or two ago.

He didn't even drive her to school most days anymore. It was almost always Sam unless they were both going someplace after. She'd figured out pretty quickly that it all had a lot more to do with the Mark than with her, but she couldn't help feeling offended by it.

This-- the note, the leaving, the Sammy, let me go-- was a more extreme version of all that. He was withdrawing completely, taking himself entirely out of their lives so that he stood no chance of harming them. This was Dean, alive. It had to be.

That was cause for hope. What else could it be?

"Sammy, please. I can't sit here. It's gonna drive me crazy. I have to help."

"Anna..." Sam said slowly. He took another moment to think and then braced his hands on her shoulder and leaned down just slightly. "Think about what Dean would want-"

With a sudden flash of anger in her core, Anna scissored Sam's arms away from her and backed away. "Don't talk about him like he's dead!" she demanded. "And don't use him against me. I'm not a little kid anymore, and I'm not gonna sit here or go to school or whatever while you take care of everything."

"Nobody's asking you to do nothing," Sam said reasonably. Anna rolled her eyes and made a disgusted sound, already turning to walk away. She wasn't interested in the placating bullshit he was about to feed her. "You can help me track him," Sam offered, following her down the hallway. "You can be here in case he comes back."

"That's all just a generous way of saying I can sit on my ass-

"Hey."

"Are you joking?" Anna snapped and stopped walking. She turned on her brother with rage burning hot behind her eyes. Thanks to her earlier crying session, they were still badly bloodshot around the green of her hope. "You're gonna tell me I'm talking wrong? You're the one acting like Dean's dead! Who knows what he's about to do?" she shouted. "We don't have time to sit around, and we don't have time to waste resources when he could be doing something really stupid! What if he gets himself killed?" Her voice cracked. "Again!"

"Calm dow-"

She shoved away the hand that was headed for her shoulder again. "Don't tell me to calm down! I'm done calming down! I'm done sitting around and waiting! I'm gonna help!"