"Woah, woah!" Sam held up his hands in surrender once the knife from her holster was pointed toward his face. The tip of the blade was centimeters from his nose. Danielle's eyes widened, her mouth hanging open in shock. "Oh! Oh, my God. Sam!" she whispered, her hand dropping to her lap. The knife was taken from her grasp slowly, as if not to surprise her any further. She drew in a deep breath, combing her fingers through her tangled hair. Her hands were no longer bloodstained, her hair cold and damp. Her eyebrows puckered. "Sam... did you bathe me?" His cheeks flushed as he forced an awkward chuckle, running his own hand through his hair.
"You, uh, you passed out. I stuck you in the shower and washed your hair.. Then I bandaged your hand." She looked down at the red stained bandage wrapped around her left hand. It was tight, but comfortable. "I know its weird, but I know how it feels to sleep in blood, and waking up to it... You shouldn't have to go through that. Not while I'm here." Without another word, Sam found himself cocooned between her arms. Her nose bumped against his neck as she buried her face there, her breath warm. He wrapped his strong arms around her, allowing her hair to hide his face. "Thank you," she mumbled against his skin. He grinned and nodded in response, just wanting to stay in that moment.
He knew the prophecy was a big deal. He understood why she wanted to stay away from Dean. He understood her need to run away. And he liked being there with her, as friends, holding each other's broken pieces together. She ruffled his hair once she pulled back, her lips stretched in a wide smile. "You're not so bad, Sammy," she hummed, taking the younger boy by surprise. He raised a questioning brow, only to get a shrug in response. "Its catchy, and suits you. I think I'll call you that from now on. Cool?" He pondered on the thought. Dean had been the only one to call him that. Dean had told him, though, that he got it from their mother. Another woman calling him Sammy felt weird.
Maybe it was because he never heard Mary say it. Or maybe it was because he hoped Danny stayed, for as long as she could.
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Chapter Ten:
" THE END:
PART ONE "
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There was a dull ache that seemed to enjoy residing in Danielle's cheek. Just after she almost completely healed from the demon possessing Courtney, she was struck yet again. "You should have let me put a bullet in his brain," she whispered from the backseat of Sam's car, her head resting against the window. The thumping of her head against the window kept her mind off the pain flowering beneath her blossoming bruise. "You passed out," he replied with a small smile. She knew he was right, and she knew that he knew, she knew. "Cold water usually wakes someone right up." He scoffed, his head shaking tenderly. "Not you. Not you..."
She stayed still the best she could despite the vibrating, her eyes watching as headlights passed. She decided to keep her mouth shut upon seeing Sam withdraw his phone. She knew who he was going to call. It was inevitable, she thought to herself as her eyes drooped closed. "No, don't do that. You have a concussion," Sam snapped from the driver's seat at the dozing brunette. "'M fine," she mumbled, her words ignored as the person on the other line answered. "Dean, its me," Sam said. Danielle felt her heart jolt in her chest, her eyes suddenly not droopy anymore. She hadn't spoken to Dean for a while. She wondered how he was doing.
"This is important." Sam's eyes met Danny's in the rearview mirror, a frown gracing his lips. She nodded her head, unsure if Sam truly sent her a certain message through his gaze. She searched her bag that Tim and Reggie had thrown into the dumpster behind the bar and pulled out her headphones. She was quick to plug them into her small mp3 player, already pressing shuffle. Sam couldn't fight the small smile from his face. As Danny drowned herself in her music, Sam told Dean about his dream. He told him how Jess appeared, and then Matt, and the Lucifer. He explained how he was destined to be Lucifer's vessel and wondered if he was the monster Dean's future son was meant to vanquish.
Celine Dión sang into Danny's ears and she couldn't fight the sleepy feeling anymore. She felt her head rock back onto the seat, her feet tucked beneath her. She wore one of Sam's flannels over her sleep shirt that she had bought the second she got to Sioux Falls. Her legs were adorned in black pajama pants with yellow polka dots scattered down the legs. The lights from the windshield began to blur as her eyes fell closed. With the music lulling her to sleep, Danielle was pulled into the dream realm once again, the setting different this time. Her heart raced as she rose from the bed beneath her. Her skin was layered with sweat.
Danny stared around the unfamiliar room. It was small, one she definitely didn't design herself. Two guns sat on the dresser on Danny's side. Clothes were strewn around the floor, belonging to female and male. She squinted at the light coming in through the door. She thought she was alone until a snore broke out. She gasped, nearly falling off the bed, and turned sharply to the sound. A man laid there, on his stomach. His top half was bare. She spotted the freckles decorating his shoulders. "Hello?" she whispered, poking at his shoulder. She jumped as he snored once more. "I wouldn't do that, love." A male voice startled her once more, the girl grabbing the gun that was to her side. She held it up at the short man.
"Who are you?" she asked him, the barrel of the gun pointed at the man's chest. "Funny. You know nothing of me, but I know everything about you." He chuckled, although his words weren't funny in the least. "You don't know me," she sneered. He picked up a pair of boxers with a slight smirk. "The man beside you... he's the Righteous Man," he began to explain. She didn't pull her gaze from the stranger in front of her. "He's the one to fulfill your deepest desires. Literally." He tossed the boxers back onto the floor. She glared harder. "Dean... right?" He nodded with a smirk. "You're not as stupid as you let on." She pulled back the gun lock, her finger hovering over the trigger.
"If you have something to tell me, spit it out. I'm getting impatient." He grinned. Out of all the things he had heard about her, he had never expected this attitude. She wasn't strong. Yet, she knew this was a dream. He couldn't hurt her here. "We're coming for you. All of us. Hell." Her eyes narrowed further. "Get in line, buddy." — "Lucifer. He's telling everyone that he'll be the one to end your miserable life." The name of the fallen angel made her hands begin to tremble. He smirked cockily, his eyebrows raised. "Thought that would break through your fake tough exterior." She glared hard. Before she knew it, her vision began to fizzle. "Wait, when? When is he coming?" She asked. His face continued to erase from her sight until she was surrounded by complete darkness.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Dean woke up to a slight pounding in his head. Last he remembered was seeing his own face, older and gruffer than his own. His eyes struggled to focus as he scanned the room. In a blur, he noticed himself across the room, cleaning a gun. "What the hell?" he spoke gruffly, rubbing at his head. "I should be asking that question, don't you think? In fact, why don't you give me one good reason why I shouldn't gank you right here and now?" Older Dean sat in front of real Dean, his eyes narrowed. Real Dean frowned. "Because you'd only be hurting yourself," he explained. The throbbing in his head was beginning to get on his nerves.
"Very funny." Future Dean wasn't having it. "Look, man—I'm no shapeshifter or demon or anything, okay?" His palms were sweaty. Real Dean didn't understand why he had this weird feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah, I know. I did the drill while you were out. Silver, salt, holy water—nothing. But you know what was funny? Was that you had every hidden lockpick, box cutter, and switchblade that I carry. Now, you want to explain that? Oh, and the, uh, resemblance, while you're at it?" Real Dean's whole demeanor changed. He stared at his future self with a hard look. "Zachariah," he answered plainly. Suddenly, Future Dean stands, the chair he was sitting on clattering to the floor. "Come again?"
"I'm you from the tail end of 2009. Zach plucked me from my bed and threw me five years into the future." He released a hard sigh. Future Dean glared at him. "Where is he? I want to talk to him." — "I don't know." Future Dean scoffed. "You don't know."
"No, I don't know. Look, I just want to get back to my own friggin' year, okay?"
"Okay. If you're me, then tell me something only I would know."
Dean ran through his memories with Sam, women, men. Once he found the perfect one, a smirk crawled across his face. "Rhonda Hurley. We were, uh, nineteen. She made us try on her panties. They were pink. And satiny. And you know what? We kind of liked it." His face was smug as he looked up at his future self. That was a memory no one knew of, especially not Sam. He wouldn't hear the end of it. "Touché. So, what, Zach zapped you up here to see how bad it gets?" Dean shrugged in response. "I guess. Croatoan virus, right? That's their endgame?" Future Dean slowly nodded, his expression softening. "It's efficient, it's incurable, and it's scary as hell. Turns people into monsters. Started hitting the major cities about two years ago. World really went in the crapper after that."
Dean felt this sick feeling swim through his gut. "What about Sam?" he asked. Future Dean frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Heavyweight showdown in Detroit. From what I understand, Sam didn't make it." It felt like a blade went through Dean's chest at the news. His mouth hung open in surprise. "You weren't with him?" he asked incredulously. "No. No, me and Sam, we haven't talked in—hell, five years." — "And... and Danielle?" A sour look crossed over Future Dean's face at the mention of her name. "Lucifer was supposed to kill her, but..." He shook his head, wiping at his eyes, "She's somewhere locked up in Hell, probably begging to be dead." Dean noticed the tears in his own eyes, watching as his future self cleared his throat and sniffled.
"We never tried to find her?" he asked softly. He didn't want to know the answer. If he didn't look for Sam, why would he have looked for Danny? "We found her one day, but she left us for Sam... Apparently they were more family than we were." Dean felt another stab in his chest at the thought. Future Dean began to move toward a door. "Where you going?" he asked his future self. "I got to run an errand." — "Whoa. You're just gonna leave me here?" Future Dean looked at his younger self in shock. "Yes. I got a camp full of twitchy trauma survivors out there with an apocalypse hanging over their head. The last thing they need to see is a version of The Parent Trap. So, yeah, you stay locked down."
Future Dean held out a pair of handcuffs, making younger Dean's eyes widen. "Okay. All right. Fine. But you don't have to cuff me, man. Oh, come on. You don't trust yourself?" Older Dean chuckled. "No. Absolutely not." Older Dean left after making sure the cuffs were secure. Dean scoffed. "Dick." The news of Sam and Danny echoed through his mind. He didn't want to lose them. If anything, he wanted them alive more than he wanted himself to be. I get it, he thought to himself. I'm selfish. Zap me back.