I lasted for three weeks.
Three weeks of not sleeping, listening to the sound of him screaming, dancing, and laughing at my lack of sleep. It was only one week before I gave up even trying to sleep as I read different books, trying to learn more about what we were hunting.
The day time was much easier than night. During the day time I could ignore Archer's constant pokes or one-sided conversations, instead focusing all my attention on the day's task, whether it be on strategies for how we were going to kill a certain thing or actually kiling it. I was lucky because every day somehow we found something new to "gank" (Dean's vocabulary, not mine), and that really kept my attention to where I wanted it, no matter how many small injuries I gained. I preffered it that way.
The worst times, I think, were when the boys were off doing their own little thing - usually at bars - and I was left in the different motel rooms alone. That was when the real noise started, and it was much harder to ignore and not reply.
And neither Sam nor Dean realized a thing.
I suppose it wasn't their fault. Mostly it was because I was such a good actress. I always had been. The good thing about being good at faking things is that I was never caught in a lie - though I didn't lie often. The bad part was that it was harder for people to know how I was feeling. It was a constant battle between wanting people to know, but not allowing myself to let anyone know.
The three of us (well, I supposed four if I were to count Archer) just came back from a hunt against a ghost. I had to be honest with myself as I admitted that it was much scarier than anything else we hunted because I didn't really know where it was going to come from, or how it would attack, if it attacked first.
I quickly found out that it was just an angry spirit that mostly just wanted to scare people. It tried to fight back as we looked for the body (which, by the way, is really disgusting, if you ask me), and I ended up being flung across the room, hitting my head in the process. I was more angry at first and the adrenaline kept me going to find the body, but after I burned it, an intense headache started.
We got back to the room in no time and I silently thanked whoever was in Heaven that I was able to finally lay down on an actual bed. The second I went through that door I plopped down and heaved a huge sigh. Under the covers so the boys couldn't see, I stripped down into a tanktop and underwear.
Dean chuckled. "Tired?"
I grunted. "Extremely. I haven't slept in days."
"It sure does feel like it, doesn't it?" Dean responded. I wanted to tell him that I literally hadn't slept in days, but was suddenly too tired, and Archer wasn't making too much noise.
I suddenly felt tension in the room. Lifting my head up, I saw that while Dean was at ease, Sam's whole body tensed up. "Sam?" I asked. "Are you okay?" Dean's head turned towards Sam, his eyes asking the same question.
"Yeah. Yeah," he tried to reassure us.
I was not convinced.
Neither was Dean.
"Dude, what's wrong?" He asked.
"Nothing, Dean... Would you mind giving me and Jules a few minutes alone?"
"Cristo."
"Dean!"
"Allright, just checking." Dean grabbed some clothes and moved to the bathroom to take a shower. After Sam was sure his brother wasn't listening in to their conversation, his long legs carried his body to where I was and sat down on the edge of my bed.
"Jules," Sam started. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, thinking about how he would let his words spew out of his mouth. "Jules," he repeated.
"Yes?" I whispered. My eyes were squinted as I tried to keep my view to him. He looked worried and scared and angry, all at the same time.
"I need you to be honest with me about this." His tone was serious and deep.
Just then, Archer decided to start to laugh and said, "Oooooh big moose is getting serious." I decided to ignore him. He must not have appreciated that because he started to sing Sweet Home Alabama on the top of his lungs.
When I spoke, it was louder than before because I wasn't even able to hear myself. "About what, Sam?"
His eyebrows raised in more pity as he said, "Are you still seeing Archer?"
Yes. "No."
"Julia," I cringed at the sound of my real name. "Tell me the truth."
I smirked, a defensive move, and decided I wouldn't give him a straight answer. "Why are you asking me if you're so sure of the answer?"
That was answer enough for him and he closed his eyes in defeat. "Is he still here?"
I looked him straight in the eye and raised one eyebrow. "He's singing Sweet Home Alabama."
Archer laughed.
Sam did not.
Instead he asked, "Jules, I... I know what you're going through. You can talk to me about it."
"Do you know what I'm going through?" I wondered, completely serious.
"Yes. I do, and I will help you with this as much as I can."
I became curious and a little bit scared at the intensity in his eyes. Not scared for me, but scared for him, and why he seemed so insistent.
"What happened, Sam?"
"The devil was literally in my mind."
Despite everything, I laughed a little. When he didn't, I rethought my decision to not believe him and decided that basically anything could happen with these Winchester boys. "Wait, seriously?"
"Yeah," he admitted. "I'm serious. But that was a long time ago. Well, long enough. This isn't what we're supposed to be talking about. We're talking about youb, Jules. Do you... need anything?"
I sighed. "I'm fine. All I need is a good night's rest."
Archer barked out laughter. "Good luck with that, honey."
Sam looked at me, considering. "Okay. I understand." He stood up. "I'm gonna go out, okay? Get some sleep."
He quickly grabbed his bag and walked out of the room, seeming like in a hurry. The word "goodbye" escaped my lips just as the door shut behind the boy. I sighed and laid back down. The lights were still on and I stared at them until my eyes were drooping.
Suddenly my entire body was jerked to the side as I was pushed off of it. I hit my head against the corner of the bedside table and let out a huge gasp as pain clouded my mind. Once my head cleared a little to where I could properly see straight, I turned my head towards the figure crouched right in front of me.
"Oh," I groaned, my hand moving to my head.
Archer's face was a few inches from mine, and there was no usual smirk. Instead, there was a sudden new curiosity brightening his eyes. "I wonder...." he muttered to himself.
Upon deciding on it, I realized what he "wondered."
He moved slowly. His hand lazily touched my cold stomach as he kept looking into my eyes. I couldn't look away. His warm fingertips brushed down my side until they were on my upper leg.
"Jules," he asked as he started to make circular motions with his fingers, "Why won't you say yes to me? I won't hurt you if you do."
I understood what he was trying to say. Or, should I say, threat.
I tried to keep my voice calm and collected as I responded, but it wavered as panic started to rise at his touch. "Because I don't know what you intend to do with me once I do."
"Ah, Jules..." He moved both his hands now, under my tight tank top, and he gripped my sides. I could hear the shower still going through the wall right next to my head, and I wanted to call for Dean, but I didn't want him to come, because I knew this wasn't real. It wasn't real. It was all in my head.
My eyes were still glued to Archer's. I was so uncomfortable and I could pin the exact second when he realized that what he was doing might actually get me to say yes. The glint in his eyes went from light curiosity to pure, evil knowledge.
"Don't touch me," I whimpered.
Archer laughed. "I told you once. I always get what I want."
Suddenly my thoughts from a few weeks ago came to my brain.
I would rather die than make you happy.
And I would.
I then realized what I should do.
I whispered, "And I told you too. I would rather die than make you happy."
It took him less than a second for him to realize what I was implying, but it was still too slow for me. I kicked out and he flew a few feet across the room, his head hitting the dresser where the TV was. It shook from the hit and Archer slumped to the floor. In a flash, I scrambled to find something, anything, that would help me accomplish my goal.
My heart beat faster when I remembered that Dean always kept a long knife under his pillow. In a flash, I was by his bed and my hand was placed under his pillow, grabbing it out.
A huge hand wrapped itself around my arm and slung me back onto the other bed. It, not surprisingly, belonged to Archer.
He pushed me hard against the already springy bed and touched me all around, all the while saying things like, "it's just one word," and, "Don't make this any harder on yourself." I felt sick.
Turned my head as to not look at him, I saw the knofe, only a few inches from my fingertips. I pretended not to notice as I looked straight back at Archer, letting tears come out of my eyes as an act of my terror. They were only partially pretend.
"Please stop," I cried as my fingers reached further.
"No, I won't!" He yelled, five inches from the tip of my nose. "Not until you give me consent!" Archer's breaths were becoming more intense as he said each word. I didn't think he teached his breaking point, but I was fairly sure he was on the way.
A small smirk made its way to the corner of my lips and, through the tears, I looked into Archer's soul as my fingers clenched around the body of the knife, swinging the blade into my stomach.
"No," I whispered to him.
Just then, Dean walked into the room and screamed, "No!" himself. He dropped the towl he was drying his hair with and, in just a t-shirt and boxers, he scrambled over to where I had slumped.
Needless to say, I was in an excruciating amount of pain. But for some realon, I suddenly wans't able to cry out, and I just laid there, staring into Archer's shocked face with a wry smile on mine.
"Oh, god, Jules, no..." Dean whimpered. He quickly shut his eyes tightly, opening them just as swiftly. "Jules..." His voice cracked. "This is going to hurt."
Without any warning, Dean reached to my stomach and pulled the knife out. It made a sickeningly jerking sound, and blood covered both me and the knife. The wound was worse than the pain I felt from it. My hands covered the bleeding wound.
He picked me up and held me the best he could. Every movement hurt, but I didn't make a sound. The look on Dean's face was torture for me. He looked like he was feeling my pain, and evensome of his own.
"Dean," I whispered, my voice raspy and small. "You take long showers, you know." I chuckled.
Dean did not. Tears pooled in his eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, Jules. I'm so sorry."
"Don't apologize. It's not your fault, silly boy. Not everything is your fault."
He didn't say anything, and I could tell he wasn't believing me. Instead, his face scrunched together as the first tear fell, from his left eye, followed by many more.
As he leaned his forehead against mine, tears fell on my face. Not mine. Dean's.
He opened and closed his mouth several times. Finally, he managed to croak out, "Why?"
I didn't quite know how to answer that. I couldn't tell him it was because I needed to escape, even though that was truthfully part of it. If I said that, he would blame himself.
I stopped staring at his sad eyes as I looked around the room. It was such an ugly room, really. The colours were dull and the floor was an ugly green carpet. The walls were what was probably once a bright, sunny yellow, but was made in the late 80's or early 90's. But I couldn't help but admire the room. It was calm and peaceful and homey. And old. Dean loved old things, I realized, and for some reason, since knowing him, so did I.
Archer was still there, but he still was in shock. Staring at the wall was a look of horror on his face. I felt way too satisfied, seeing that look on his face after everything.
Because of that satisfaction, I knew exactly how to respond.
"Because I wanted to win."
Archer's head turned towards me slowly, as if registering that answer. When it clicked, his eyebrows rose up.
I winked.
But then my vision started to go blurry and the pain intensified tenfold. I started to cough, and blood sprang into my mouth, as the metallicy taste told me.
"Jules," Dean said my name again. "Please don't go. You can't go. We finally have a sister. Not that I ever wanted one. But now that I have one, I can't let you go. Please, Jules, do it for me. Don't go."
My vision cleared with justenough time to say, "It's okay. It'll be okay."
Suddenly everything intensified. My vision. The pain. Dean as he cried out.
And then..... nothing.
~~~~~
I could not think of any way to write this chapter. You have no idea how hard this was. I would literally jsut stare at it for hours on end trying to think of a new sentence. Hope it's satisfying!