You woke up quickly, too quickly for your head, feeling as it was going to split open from the fast movement. Your tongue was like sandpaper, your throat full of cotton. Before attempting to pry your eyes open, you tried to remember what happened, the fog in your head making it hard. You knew you were no longer in the bunker, that you had run away. You remembered drinking heavily, your wound hurting, and Cas coming to visit you. As these memories turned up in your head, new ones did also. You remember trying to take care of yourself, but the pain and fever being too much and you fell to the floor. You vaguely remember a pair of strong arms picking you up, and placing you back in bed, but that must have been your imagination, because you had turned everyone away.

"Y/N, I know you're awake. Sweetheart, open your eyes. I need to know how you're feeling." That voice was familiar, you had thought you would never hear it again. Opening your eyes, your vision confirmed your suspicion. Dean was sitting in a chair that he had pulled close to your bed, still in that maroon flannel shirt that made your heart freeze.

Your first instinct was to run, and you did just that, bounding off the bed, glancing towards the door, but Dean was on that side. Your chest panting, you ran for the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it, before sliding down it, and pressing your knees to your chest.

Trying to calm down your racing heart, you waited with baited breath, waiting for Dean to pound on the door, yelling at you, or worse, using his ice cold words as he found something to break the door down with.

You listened, hearing the scrape of a chair as he pushed it back, before you heard the heavy thud of his boots. But they didn't move near the bathroom door, instead they moved away. It was then you heard the quiet hush of voices, not just his, but Sam's too. In your haste to run away, you hadn't even noticed Sam in the room.

"See Sam, I told you she would freak out. You should have left me behind." Dean muttered, sounding nothing like his demonic self. He sounded exhausted, and defeated. You listened, wondering what would happen next.

"She just needs time to calm down. Of course you scared her. The last time she saw you, you had just plunged a knife in her belly."

It was then you remembered your stitches, and you pulled back your shirt, not surprised to see that in place of the stitches was smooth and pale skin. They must have brought Cas back with them, and healed you while you were unconscious.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice sounded from the other side of the door, soothing and quiet. "Can you let me in?"

You shook your head no, then realized your stupidity. He couldn't see you. "I don't think so Sam."

You heard Sam slide down the door, until he was leaning against it, just like you. You knew that with a shove of his powerful shoulders, Sam would have been able to break the lock easily. But that wasn't Sam, he didn't use his strength or size to his advantage, unless he was hunting monsters.

"Why did you have Cas heal me? I told him no twice." You asked, playing with the hem of your shirt.

"I know you didn't want healed, that you seemed to think you needed to feel the pain. But Y/N, once we broke open your door, we found you laying on the floor, all of your switches popped open, blood pooling out, and you shivering from a fever and lack of blood. If we had arrived much later, there would have been nothing to save. Why didn't you let me know how bad you were?"

Hearing how hurt and sick you had been didn't surprise you. You knew you had been reckless, and stupid by not letting Cas help you. Maybe in a way, you welcomed death, ready to leave all this pain behind. "I didn't want to be saved." You simply said, tears starting to drip down your face. You knew now that Sam, and probably Dean, weren't going to let you run off on your own. They loved you too much for that.

Sighing, you stood up, your body still weak, even though you were healed. You turned the lock, and pulled the door open, surprising Sam, who had been leaning hard against the door. He was now laying on his back, staring up at you. Looking into the room you noticed Dean had moved his chair to the farthest corner of the room, bathed in darkness.

Sam quickly got to his feet, before enveloping you in a hug. "Please don't do that again." He whispered against your hair, before stepping back.

Cautiously, you stepped into the room, your eyes trained on Dean the entire time, ready to turn tail and run back into the bathroom at a moments notice.

He didn't move, his arms crossed across his chest, his posture stiff. You couldn't see the expression on his face, and for a moment you wished he would move forward, Just so you could try to tell what he was thinking.

Perching on the edge of the bed, you waited, wondering what they were going to do next. "How are you Dean?" You finally asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

"I'll live. I'm more worried about you." He said simply.

"You know me, always land on my feet." You joked, trying to cut the thick tension in the room.

Dean moved, just slightly, but the movement was enough to unnerve you, and you flinched. Dean noticed, and he slid back into his chair.

Sam watched the exchange, an unreadable expression on his face. Sighing, he realized that he was going to have to be the voice of reason, like usual. "Y/N, we are both worried about you. Please come back to the bunker with us?"

You knew they would ask, and you already knew what your decision would be. "Is that what you want?" You asked Dean.

"I only want you to be happy, and safe." He said.

Knowing you were probably crazy, you nodded your head. "Fine, let's go." You said, trying to control your urge to hide behind Sam as Dean stood up again. They both noticed, and Dean stormed out the door while Sam gave you a small, comforting smile.