Hallucination or a manifestation of my guilt...either way, imaginary-Finn is a grade A asshole.
If I've gotten a wink of sleep, I can't remember it. His presence has been a nuisance from the time he returned. And he doesn't seem to have any intention of leaving anytime soon.
"And how does our recovering addict feel today?" comes his usual greeting when I wake.
As usual, I refuse to acknowledge him. Refuse to play along.
"Oh, those bags under your eyes are getting worse!" He tsks. "Careful, Willa. If you get burnt out, you get sick again. That'll set you back even more."
I just want you gone. Go away. I need rest. I need sanity. You're sucking it from me.
"Hmm, maybe I should switch tactics. Since you won't look at me, perhaps I need to switch up my look." Halfway through his words, his tone changes. Warps into someone else's. Someone who sounds familiar...
Before I can stop myself, I turn my head. Cringing, I see Finn has now morphed into Cas. Not Cas in his last moments, but Cas as the first time I met him. Not a spec of blood on his trench coat. Trusting blue eyes. He has a kind face, but I know this isn't really Cas.
"What do you think?" Finn-Cas gestures to himself. "Will you look at me now?"
"Stop it," I say, my tone wavering.
"Aw, am I hitting a nerve?" The mockery ruin's Cas's monotone voice. It morphs it sinisterly. A sneer twists his mouth. "Finally, I'm getting somewhere! No more silent treatment for me!"
"Switch back," I demand weakly. I slowly get out of bed. Surprisingly, I'm stable on my feet. For now. "You have no right—"
"To remind you of what you did? Um, yes, I do, Wills." That nickname sounds wrong out of Finn-Cas's mouth. "You need to know what you've done. You need to know it will never leave you."
"I already know!" My voice is hoarse as it rises in pitch. "I already know I've got blood on my hands! That I'm not well. That I might never be, because of you!"
"Do you wish I had killed you at your Homecoming dance?"
My mouth quivers. "N-no."
"Are you sure? Hindsight being what it is, it would've saved you all of this." He gestures to my detox room. "It's okay to admit it. It'll be our secret."
This is the withdrawal talking. I don't want to die. I just want this to end. I want to go home with Mom. To know that Sam and Dean live the quiet life they thought they would never get. I just want peace.
"Stop pretending to be him," I say. "You think that I don't beat myself up over killing him? Knowing that I had a legitimate chance to get out, and I ruined it? I let Hell get the best of me, and because of that, the Winchesters lost their best friend!" Emotion rises in my chest. "I don't need the guilt trip, I need closure. I need peace. You are the embodiment of everything opposite of that!"
"Careful, Willa."
"Stop being Cas! I know it's you, Finn. No amount of acting is going to change that." Courage—or stupidity, I can't say for sure—makes me stomp up to him. I have to look through this façade. That the blue eyes are not Cas's, not really. That the thing before me is not the angel who watched me when the Winchesters were out hunting. "If I could survive Hell, I can survive you and your tricks."
"I wouldn't call your stunt in Hell surviving. I think 'endure' is the better word there."
I throw a punch before my brain can stop it. It makes contact, but Finn-Cas barely flinches. Emotion rising up in my body now, I swing. And swing. And swing. And each punch that lands seems to hurt...me. My hand is throbbing, but adrenaline is currently in the driver's seat.
"You're the reason Cas is dead!" I snarl. Another punch.
Finn-Cas's face is getting bloody. "Careful now, Willa. You'll kill him again."
A feral scream comes out of me. With all that I have, I throw one final punch. In that moment, Finn-Cas disappears. I've been hitting the wall behind him. Red is spackled in front of me. Trembling, I look down at my knuckles. Skin torn and bleeding.
I buckle down, leaning against the wall. The silent cries rack my body. I want to bash my head against the wall, to make this all go away. But that's the point of Finn. He wants to drive you insane. He wants you to make it all end. He doesn't want peace.
"Mom!" I cry out through more tears. "Dean!" A sniffle. "Sam!" A racking cry tears through me. "Someone, please! Just...be with me."
The door flies open. All three come rushing in. No one is sure who should take me first. Was I screaming that loud, or did they all happen to be nearby at once? Oh, no, were they listening? Did I just out myself about Cas?
They all exchange silent looks, the debate evident in their eyes. Sam is the first to approach. Slowly. He doesn't move in to hug me, he just sits in front of me. Gentle hazel eyes meet mine. He gingerly reaches for my hands. I wince. He doesn't pull back.
"We're in the thick of it now, aren't we?" I whisper. A slight shake attacks my body.
Sam nods once, somberly. "But we're here."
"Thank you." I squeeze his hands. "H-how do I know you're real?"
Mom lets out a sad noise. "Oh, baby," she whispers.
"We got to get those cleaned up," Dean interjects softly. "Don't want those to go unattended."
"Let me."
"Can Dad do it, Mom?" I ask in a small voice. "Please?"
Mom looks taken aback by my question. But she doesn't look offended. "Yes, of course."
"How about we fix the kid up some breakfast?" Dean suggests.
With our missions in mind, we part ways. Sam leads me to the bathroom, grabbing things needed to tend to my knuckles. They throb viciously now, causing tears to prick in my eyes. I hiss and jump as he wipes my injuries down.
"Necessary evil, sorry," he apologizes.
"I know." My eyes remain focused on his handiwork. "Um, they aren't serious wounds. Why the wrappings?"
"Better to be safe than sorry." He's gentle as he tends to me.
"I hate this."
"I know."
I sniffle. "Please tell me this is almost over."
"It will be. You're strong, Willa. Keep that up."
But I don't want to. That's the defeatist part of me right now. Its voice is rather loud, currently. "I'm trying."
"It's not easy, I know."
"Can I ask one thing from you three?"
"What?"
"When I'm on the other end of this, please don't treat me like I'm glass. Treat me as though none of this happened."
"That's a tall order to ask."
"I don't want to be sheltered. I'm not going to forget any of what's happened to me. But to just fully ignore it...it's not going to help me heal."
"We'll work on it."
"Okay." I flex my hands slowly, testing out the wrappings. "I look like I'm ready to practice with a punching bag."
"We do have those, somewhere. I think. Maybe."
"Hey, I'm not looking to anytime soon."
Once I'm mended, and Sam and I sit in understanding silence some more, we leave the bathroom to join Mom and Dean in the kitchen. The smells hit me before we even make it in there. My stomach is eager for food, with how loud it protests.
As we enter, I stutter-step. Everything looks normal, aside from the dead angel lurking in a corner of the room. I swallow, fear gripping my heart. A big spot of red is on his chest from where I'd stabbed him with his own blade.
"Willa?" Sam puts a hand on my shoulder.
When I blink, Cas remains. He can only look at me in disappointment. I know, I failed. I let Hell get to me. I lost you because of it. They lost you, too.
Mom's head turns in the direction I'm looking in. A frown comes across her face. "What do you see, sweetheart?"
"Nothing," I say too quickly.
"Eat," says Dean.
The four of us sit at the table, filling our plates and cups in silence. I can feel Cas's presence still, though my back is to him. I'm waiting for him to appear at the table and join us as though everything is fine. I'm very slow in eating my breakfast.
After some time, the silence is broken.
"There's something we need to discuss, Willa," Dean says softly.
"Dean," Mom says warningly.
"There's never going to be a good time to do this, Laura. We might as well rip the Band-Aid off now."
I look between the two of them. "What do we need to talk about?"
"It's about Cas."
"W-what about him? Y'know, thinking about it, I haven't seen him since I got out of Hell."
"Please, kid, don't put on that act."
"What act?"
Dean sighs heavily. "We've overheard your...detox conversations."
"I..." Despite all that is running through my brain, my mouth can't spit out any words. I'm honestly afraid of what I'll say first.
"It's okay to tell them," Mom insists gently. "We wanted you to be in a better state of mind before we did this."
"And you think I'm in one now?"
"Willa, please," says Sam.
I exhale. "I wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how or when. Something like that...there's never a good time to talk about it." I look at Dean. "I wanted to tell you at the hospital, but...it was still too fresh. We'd just gotten out of a bad place, and I didn't want to make things bad again."
"We didn't want to believe it, but it makes sense. Cas never showed to help when the demons got into the house, and I'm sure we were all calling on him to come lend a hand. Since he never showed, we didn't want to think..."
"We just hoped he was too deep into a lead and hadn't heard us," says Dean.
I exhale. So far, this isn't going terrible. But I'm still treading in choppy waters, to say the least. In my peripheral, Cas moves around the kitchen, eyes trained on me.
Sam reaches to grab my hand and give it a squeeze. I know, the squeeze tells me.
"If you want to part ways as strangers, I totally get it." The words tumble out. "I wouldn't want to be associated with me either."
"Willa—" Dean tries.
The sob comes out before I can stop it. "I had no idea. Sometimes I thought I saw him in Hell, but I thought the place was screwing with my head. Cas did so much for me, and I can't begin to imagine what he did for you guys. I took him from all of us. He must've felt so betrayed..."
I can't do this. I abruptly leave the kitchen table. Mom rushes after me, just grabbing my wrist. I spin, trying to shove myself from her. She holds her ground firmly, pulling me to her. I accept defeat, crying into her.
"We aren't mad at you, kid," says Dean, who sounds closer.
I peek my head out from Mom, to see Sam and Dean have also left breakfast unattended. I cringe into Mom as Dean reaches to put a hand on my shoulder. "Y-you sure about that?"
"Absolutely," Sam says, almost too quickly.
With breakfast forgotten, my family surrounds me as my guilt swallows me whole.