You're in so much pain, your sobs have turned to wails, tears stain your face, and your hands grow tighter on your head. All of these images aren't just images... they are memories. Memories of who? The people on the ship? That little mini movie wasn't so much a memory, but a recount of something that happened. Were they your memories? But why? When did you have them?
"Dean!" Ellen yells again, and he leaves your side to pick up the phone. "What is going on?"
"Nothing, Ellen. We're fine. Just please keep digging."
Dean hangs up and looks at Sam who is sitting on the other side of the room with his laptop open in front of him.
"Y/N, please talk to me," he begs.
"It's my head again. I saw the Titanic sink. It was sunk by an iceberg, Dean," you cry softly as soon as the pain subsides.
"The RMS Titanic was the largest passenger steamship in the world when it made its maiden voyage across the North Atlantic in 1912," Sam says.
Of course, he would do research about the ship when you're in so much fucking pain.
"So, what's the big fucking deal? It's a ship. It sailed."
"It sank," you whimper quietly.
"Yeah, I don't know. Um... oh, it looks like there was a close call. Ship almost hit an iceberg."
"Almost?" he asks, and he looks at you in confusion.
He never said anything about an iceberg. Maybe what you're spewing is the truth. He doesn't know what to think—just that he hates seeing you in pain.
"Yeah, it looks like the first mate spotted it just in time."
"Good for him. There anything else?"
"Wait a second. This first mate is Mr. I.P. Freeley."
"Well, that's not suspicious. You got a picture of old Freeley?" Dean asks.
"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Sam groans.
He turns the computer around to show that the first mate is, in fact, Balthazar.
"I'm not crazy. He's doing this to me," you sniffle and wipe your tears away.
"Let's summon the son of a bitch."
"Go, I'll be okay," you whisper.
Dean leaves your side to help Sam since he knows you're going to be okay. What you didn't tell him is that you're getting another one of your splitting headaches. You fire your magic to full power to counteract the pain, but that doesn't stop the memories from filtering through your brain.
"Okay, this is it. I'll see you on the other side. Probably sooner than later," Dean chuckled humorlessly.
"Make it later," she sighed.
Dean puts the button in Jo's hand. She didn't like this even though it was necessary for survival. He kissed her forehead meaningfully before pulling away. Ellen came back and took a seat next to her daughter. Mother and daughter stared at one another before Ellen smiled.
"Mom, no."
"Somebody's gotta let them in. Like you said, you're not moving. You got me, Jo, and you're right, this is important. But I will not leave you here alone."
"Ellen," you got tears again.
"Get going now," she sniffled.
"Ellen!"
"I said go," she urged. The tears wouldn't stop leaking from your eyes even as you forced yourself to walk away. "Dean? Kick it in the ass. Don't miss."
"Yes, ma'am," he nodded.
"I am so sorry," you whispered.
Ellen got up, unchains the doors, sweeps away the salt line, opens the propane tanks, sits back down next to Jo, and hugs her. Dean forced you out the back door even though you didn't want to. As you were climbing down the fire escape, you were sobbing quietly. Jo was your only good girlfriend, and Ellen was like a maternal figure in your life. It was hard knowing you were leaving them in there to die. As soon as your feet touched the ground, you three began running down the alley. When you got far enough, the hardware store exploded, and you turned to watch it burn.
"JO!!" you screamed, but Dean covered your mouth before anyone else could hear.
"Come on," he urged.
He had to force you to follow them before you could follow them on your own. You kept your sobs quiet as you ran to the farm and through bushes.
The memory ends, and you just cry at the loss of your friends. You consider Jo to be a really good friend—best friend. She died to save you, Sam, and Dean—and she took her mother with her. By the time your trip down memory lane eased up, Sam and Dean were already setting up the table to summon Balthazar. All they have to do is light a match and drop it into the bowl. Dean does so, and all that happens is the lights flicker.
"Boys, boys, boys—and Y/N. Whatever can I do for you?" the angel smirks.
"We need to talk," Dean glares.
"Oh, you seem upset, Dean."
"The hell with the boat, Balthazar?"
"What boat?"
"The Titanic," you say softly and get up on shaky legs.
"Oh, yeah, the Titanic. Yes, well, uh, it was meant to sink, and I saved it."
"What?" Sam gasps and both brothers look at you.
"Well it was meant to bash into this iceberg thing and plunge into the briny deep with all this hoopla, and I saved it. Anything else I can answer for you?"
"Why?" you ask, suddenly growing angry. "Why did you un-sink the ship?"
"Oh, because I hated the movie."
"What movie?"
"Exactly," he laughs.
"You think this is funny?" you spat angrily and stalk over to him. You hold a lot of emotions in your eyes, your face is stained with tears, and your head throbs with your memories of your past life—the life you're supposed to be living. "All I'm getting are memories of a past life—a life that we're supposed to be living."
"Yes, you pesky witches are always finding a loophole in life," he rolls his eyes.
"So that's it? My mom really is dead? Ellen and Jo?" you ask, but he doesn't answer you.
"Wait, so you saved a cruise liner because—"
"—because that God-awful Celine Dion song made me want to smite myself," Balthazar cuts off Sam.
"Who's Celine Dion?"
"Oh, she's a destitute lounge singer somewhere in Quebec, and let's keep it that way, please."
"Okay, I didn't think that was possible. I thought you couldn't change history. I thought Y/N was only getting bad dreams or something."
"Oh, haven't you noticed? There's no more rules, lady and gentlemen."
"Wow," Sam scoffs. "The nerve on you. So, you just, what, un-sunk a giant boat?"
"Oh come on. I saved people. I thought you loved that kind of thing."
"We save people from monsters and demons and dicks like you. What happened to them was a complete accident. But now, those people and their kids and their kids' kids must have interacted with so many other people and changed so much shit!" you yell.
"You totally Butterfly-Effected history!" Sam exclaims.
"Dude. Dude. Rule one, no Kutcher references," Dean shakes his head.
"Ah, yes. Unfortunately, there's still an Ashton Kutcher. You three still averted the Apocalypse, and there are still Archangels. It's just the small details that are different like you don't drive an Impala."
"I knew it," you whisper.
"Yes, it's not really important. Of course, Ellen and Jo are alive, as is your mother."
The angel moves over to the minibar to pour himself a drink as if this isn't affecting him at all.
"Wait, she was telling the truth? Ellen and Jo are dead?" Dean gasps.
"Yes, they're supposed to be dead. You see, I save a boat, one thing leads to another, which leads to another thousand things, and yada, yada, yada. To cut a long story short, they don't die in a massive explosion." He takes a sip of his drink and smiles. "Mmm. Anyway, let's agree I did a good thing. One less Billy Zane movie and I saved two of your closest friends and your mother."
"But now somebody is killing the descendants of the survivors. Anyone who was supposed to die survived, and now all those 50,000 people are now going to die," you state.
"And we need to save as many as we can, but we need to know who's after them," Dean adds.
"Oh, uh, sorry, uh, you have me confused with the other angel—you know, the one in the dirty trench coat who's in love with you," Balthazar says, and Dean just gives him the bitch-face. "I... don't care. Goodbye, boys. Y/N."
He disappears in an instant, and you just groan and fall onto the bed gently.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean yells.
"I have to call my mom."
You quickly leave the room and dial your mom with tears in your eyes. If she's meant to die, then you need to tell her. Maybe she can prevent herself from dying again and come home with you to where you're supposed to be leaving. The phone rings, and you get another headache. It's not as bad as last time, but it still hurts.
This time, however, you're remembering your mom... and how she died.
"Dean, something is wrong." You whispered into the phone. You heard a thud and your frown got deeper. You were very scared but if your mom was in trouble, you needed help.
"What? What do you mean?" Dean asked, confused.
"I think my mom is in trouble. I'm scared to walk inside my house. It smells horrible, like rotting eggs." You scrunched your face but closed the door because you needed to be brave for your mom.
"Y/N, don't go in there. I'm sending my dad to you." Dean warned. You chose to ignore Dean's warning and you walked further into your house. The living room was a mess, the couch and tables were all flipped over, the pictures on the walls were now on the floor. Some of them were shattered and some of them were cracked.
Walking into the kitchen, your heart started to race. Pots and pans were thrown all over the room, the knives that once were homed by their stand were now lodged into the wall. Something must have thrown those hard if they were sticking out like that. The whole house was a mess and you didn't know where your mom was.
"Mom?" You called out, scared of what you might find.
"No! Stay away from my daughter!!" Your mom screamed. A large man walked into the kitchen and grinned at you. You got tears because he was really scary looking. You saw your mom stumble in after him and you gasped at her attire.
She was disheveled with a cut on her arm. It didn't look life threatening but it wasn't good either. She took out a water bottle and splashed the man, making the surface that was touched by the water, sizzle. He cried out in pain, flinching at the pain.
He raised his hand and your mom was thrown against the wall, right next to the knives. She hit her head pretty hard and she left behind a nasty blood stain.
"Mommy!!!" You screamed, tears already running down your face. You had dropped the phone so no matter what Dean said, you wouldn't be able to hear him anyways.
"Go! Get out of here!" She yelled at you. You looked at the man and he was advancing closer to you but you wanted out of there. You didn't know how to save your mom so the first thing that came to your mind was to get him away from her. If he wanted you, he would have to catch you.
You bolted out of the room, running upstairs and to your room. Nothing bad every happened in your room. You slammed the door and looked for a place to hide. If that man was looking for you, he wasn't hurting your mom. Being 8-years-old, hiding under the bed was the most logical place to hide so you ducked under there as fast as you could.
You barely made it and the door was slamming open, shaking the whole room. You held your breath, watching as the pair of legs walked around the room, looking in your closet and searching the whole room. He walked to the bathroom that was connected to your room and disappeared inside.
You looked at the door and wondered if you could make it out of the room before he left. The door was close enough but you had to try. You needed to get to your mom and get the two of you out of there. You slipped quietly out from under the bed and tiptoed to the door.
You glanced back at the bathroom door to see the man exiting. He made eye contact with you and you screamed, running out to the hallway. Running to the stairs, you needed to see your mom. As you were running to the stairs, you ran into a pair of legs, causing you to tumble down the stairs.
You were lucky that you didn't break anything. You looked at your mom who was at the top of the stairs.
"Mommy!!!" You cried.
"Y/N! Get out of here! Go find John Winchester!" Your mom screamed to you.
"No, mommy! I don't want to leave you!" You cried, scared for not only your life but hers. The man who wanted you so badly walked up behind your mom when she was distracted and slit her throat from behind. She gurgled up some blood before collapsing down the stairs. You screamed in terror, seeing the man's eyes turn a pitch black before disappearing before your eyes.
You couldn't think too much about that since your mom was dying. You knelt down in front of her, getting blood all over you but you didn't care.
"Mommy, please don't leave me." You begged through the tears. You shook her shoulders but she wouldn't speak. She wouldn't move. She just stared at you with wide, lifeless eyes.
"Hello?" your mom answers, and you're pushing back into reality.
You didn't know you were crying until you tasted salt.
"Mom?" you ask tearfully.
"Honey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"
"We figured out what's going on here and why people keep dying," you sniffle.
"That's good, right?"
"One of the angels prevented a ship from sinking... the Titanic... and because of that, there are 50,000 new souls that were never supposed to be here. That created a ripple in time and caused a lot of events to happen, and some to not happen."
"Honey, what are you hiding?"
"If Balthazar–the angel–sinks the boat, you're not going to be here anymore. If he sinks this boat, a demon is going to kill you," you whisper the last part. "You won't be here anymore."
"Sweetheart..."
"Mom, I can't let him sink that boat, but I can't let it be saved. I don't know what to do," you cry softly.
"Y/N, listen to me. It's going to be okay. Why do you think I was so excited to have you come over this weekend? I wanted to see you as much as I could before..."
She couldn't finish her sentence.
"Wait, you know? You know you're supposed to be dead?"
"I was raised by witches, sweetie. I knew something was wrong from the minute I woke up today."
"I want you here with me. I don't know if things will be different by tomorrow," you hiccup.
"I wish things were different. I truly do. I love you so much, Y/N. You were my greatest love, just know that."
"Please don't leave me again," you whisper.
"I'm sorry, honey. I wish I could change it. You know I would. I died to keep you safe, and I'd do it all over again."
"But I never got to say goodbye. I never get to say goodbye," you cry.
"It isn't the end, Y/N. Believe that, and I'll find my way back to you."
"But you're dead. You're gone."
"You know more than anyone that death is never final for a Winchester. The same thing goes for us. I promise we will be together again."
"Y/N, we got something!" Dean calls from the motel room.
"Go and do your job, Y/N. I'm not going anywhere," she chuckles.
"I love you so much, mom," you sigh sadly.
"And I love you more. Go save the world. You're a strong woman."
You two said your goodbyes knowing you'll never hear from her again... well, at least not for a while. You wipe your tears and heads back inside the room where Sam and Dean are chatting about the case.
"We know what we're up against."
"What?"
"Fate. One of them, at least," Sam says.
"Like Greek mythology? Like the three sisters?"
"Yeah, exactly," Sam smiles.
"Nerds," Dean rolls his eyes playfully.
"These ladies are responsible for how you go down, literally. So, if you get creamed by a garage door or crunched by a copy machine, they're the ones who hammer out the details of how you die. Spinout your fate on a piece of pure gold."
"You mean gold thread."
"Yeah, and then one of them writes it all down in her Day Runner of Death. It's high-level stuff. Anyway, it fits. Now we know what Balthazar did. It seems to me that maybe Fate is just trying to clean up the mess."
"Okay, how do we stop it?" you ask. "There has to be a way."
"I don't know if there is a way. I mean unless Balthazar sinks the boat."
"So, what do we do? I mean, how do we save 50,000 people?" you ask with wide eyes.
"We got no fucking clue," Dean smiles sickly sweet.
"We can't know who everyone is," you sigh.
"We know one," Dean says and points to Shawn Russo's pamphlet that advertises his business.
It's the man that Dean went to talk to when you and Sam went to the records office. If he's on the list, then he's going to be next. You have a feeling he will be.