The road trip back to the bunker was horrible. You were trapped in the backseat with Dean, as Sam drove the car, crying and sobbing into his chest, your cries turning into hitting as your frustration set in.

"Crowley's going to kill me." You sobbed, before you turned away and tried to pull the car door open while Sam was speeding down the highway.

"Y/N damn it, you're going to kill yourself!" Dean cussed, pulling you away from the door. 

"That's better than living without Crowley." You sobbed, collapsing against the seat.

"Sam, what the hell are we going to do?" Dean asked, frustration clearly evident in his voice.

Sam glanced back through the rear view mirror. "Dean, I'm not sure. You heard Crowley. It could never wear off, or she could die. We might be in over our heads." 

"That's not what I wanted to hear." Dean growled, as your crying quieted, and you slowly fell to sleep.

The next time you woke, was to feel a pair of strong arms around you, gently picking you up. "Crowley?" You asked, sleepily, feeling the arms tighten beneath you.

"Shh, go back to sleep." A deep voice sounded, not Crowley's but still calming at the same time. You listened, closing your eyes and tilting your head until it rested on his warm chest. In a state between awake and asleep, you felt yourself being lowered onto a bed, frowning when the sheets were scratchy and stiff, not the silk sheets you had spent the last two nights in.

"Y/N." The deep voice said as you snuggled further under the covers. "Please fight this. You've fought so much, stayed strong through so many things that would have killed anyone else. I know you can fight this, and I will be there, every step of the way to help you."

Nodding your head, you fell asleep once again, exhausted.

The next morning, you woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. Your stomach grumbling, you sat up, realizing you were just dressed in a t-shirt that hung to your thighs, and you were no longer in Crowley's stone chamber. You were back in your room, in the bunker. Your wedding dress lay in heap on the floor, your heels long gone. Standing up on wobbly legs, you made your way into your bathroom, gasping at the sight before you. Your once perfect updo was now a giant rats nest, your mascara had run, making you look like a gothic clown. You looked horrible, and felt even worse. 

Turning the shower on, you stepped under the spray, washing away the make up and the hair spray from your botched wedding. You still needed Crowley, and you felt the pull to run to him, but it wasn't as bad as it was last night.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a fluffy white towel around your body, another one in your hair, as you headed back to your room, changing into a pair of ripped knee jeans, and one of Dean's old band t-shirts that you had borrowed, but had never given back.

Placing your hair in a quick bun, you left your room, and made your way to the kitchen, not surprised to find both brothers there. Giving you a wide shoulder, they watched as you silently poured yourself a cup of coffee and made yourself a plate of bacon and eggs before sitting across from them.

"So Y/N..." Dean started, biting his lip as he tried to start a conversation.

"Dean, I don't want to talk about it." You said, trying to end the conversation.

He persisted though. "I know, but I just want to know how the spell is going. Do you still feel affected?" He asked.

You nodded, before taking another sip. "Yes, not as bad as yesterday, but I'm constantly fighting an urge to run from the bunker, and try to make my way back to him. Even if that involves making a crossroads deal."

"Well, what's stopping you?" Sam asked, topping off your coffee cup.

Digging into your bacon, it was a minute before you could answer. "I don't know. Maybe it's being so far away, or maybe its from being back in the bunker. Maybe all the wards are dampening it."

Sam nodded at that suggestion. "I bet that is what it is. So we just need to keep you in here, until we can figure something out. Or it wears itself out."

"Fun." You mumbled, but truthfully you didn't mind. You wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed, and sleep for the next week or so.

Sam dropped his plate into the sink, before dusting his hands and facing you and his brother. "Well, I'm off on a supply run. Need anything Y/N?"

"Yeah, chocolate please." You asked, before finishing your breakfast. "I think I'm going to go back to bed. I have a killer headache."

Before you could leave the table, Dean was grabbing your hand. "Y/N wait. I just..about yesterday...I know..."He said, stumbling through the words, never making a complete sentence.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. "Dean, don't worry about me. I will get over it, I always do. But please, don't ask. Not right now, while I'm still reeling from the effects."

He nodded, dropping his hand, his eyes cast down. "I get it. But remember, I'm here, if you need to talk."

Standing up, you dropped your plate in the sink, ready to leave the room when Dean's phone rang. "What did Sammy forget?" Dean said out loud, before answering it.

You watched as his entire body tensed up, and his eyes darkened, and before he even said a word you knew who it was. "Crowley, what do you want now?" Dean asked, barely holding back his hatred.

You could just make out Crowley's voice on the other end of the line, but it was enough to mess with your head, reminding you that you weren't free of the spell, that you still needed to be with Crowley, and that you had displeased him by being kidnapped. As Dean growled at Crowley, telling him to leave you alone, you headed back to the counter, your mind repeating the fact that you had failed Crowley over and over again. Grabbing the nearest knife, you turned to Dean, who wasn't paying you any attention.

"Dean, tell Crowley I'm sorry I disappointed him." You said, his eyes flashing up to yours in horror as he saw the knife hovering over your body.

"Y/N, no!" Dean yelled, dropping the phone just as you swung the knife down.