Written by: gooberlanes13

Edited by: KariGorsuch

After everything we'd been through, I hadn't expected to be shoved against the wall—especially not after being called both hot and stupid. But I wasn't complaining.

Dean's hands were everywhere—threading through my hair, skimming down my chest, gripping my waist, tilting my chin just enough to claim my lips again. His touch was rough, hungry, familiar. The heat between us ignited, burning hotter than before.

His lips moved in sync with mine, teasing and demanding. I tugged at his bottom lip, earning a deep, guttural moan that sent a shiver down my spine. My fingers traced his jaw, then dragged down the solid planes of his chest, lower, lower—

A sharp beeping cut through the moment.

Dean stilled. His breathing was heavy, lips still barely brushing mine. Neither of us moved. Our eyes locked, no words spoken—but an unspoken promise lingered in the space between us as he shifted.

His palms pressed against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in—trapping me within his sight, within his reach. And I never felt safer. My fingers curled around his belt loops, tugging him closer, needing him closer.

Dean's gaze flickered down, smirking at my grip, but before he could make a teasing remark, another sharp beep cut through the moment. His smirk faded. His jaw tightened.

Still, his eyes held mine, dark with the same hunger, the same need. But the sound demanded his attention. With a slow exhale, he pulled his phone from his back pocket. The dim lamp light cast shadows across his face as the glow of the screen flickered in his eyes.

I watched, my breath hitching, as his expression shifted. His eyes scanned the screen once. Then again. His posture stiffened, his body suddenly miles away.

"Shit." Dean's voice was low, edged with something cold—dread. His whole body tensed, and my stomach dropped.

"Uh... Eve, you're gonna want to see this."

"What?" I blinked, my grip slipping from his belt loops as I snatched the phone from his hand.

Bri: I'm done.
Don't let him come after me.

A weight slammed into my chest. I read it again. And again. My blood turned hot, my pulse pounding as my mind scrambled through every possible place Bri could have run to.

I turned to Dean, who was already steadying me with a hand on my back. "Where is he?"

"Who?" His brows knit together, but I was already moving, pressing a hand to his chest to shift him out of my way.

With one sharp pull, I yanked the locked door open, the chain snapping free and rattling across the floor.

"Sam." I ground out, shoving past him and stepping into the bitter night air. The cold barely registered. My eyes locked on the door to the hotel room Bri and I had shared, my pulse a war drum in my ears.

Dean opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say never made it out.

I drove my boot into the hotel room door, slamming it open with every ounce of fury in me.

My eyes locked onto Sam instantly.

He stood frozen—shoulders stiff, face pale, his wide eyes drowning in something between shock and guilt. I closed the distance in a heartbeat.

Before he could react, I had him shoved against the wall, the cold press of a blade against his throat.

Dean's footsteps pounded behind me. "Jesus Christ, Eve—" His voice cut off as he took in the scene: my rage, Sam's clenched jaw, the flash of metal between us.

His brows furrowed. "Wait a damn second—" His gaze flicked to the knife. Then his expression twisted in confusion. "That's my knife." A beat of silence. Then, incredulously, "How the hell did you get my knife?"

"Swiped it from you." I shrugged, keeping my gaze locked onto Sam's frantic eyes.

"Sam, start talking. Now." My voice was low, edged with something darker, something feral. A growl rumbled in my throat as I pressed the blade just enough against his neck to make him flinch.

"Eve, don't you think this is taking it too far?" Dean's voice cut in, tight with unease. Behind me, I could hear him pacing, the weight of his concern thick in the air.

Sam's eyes flickered to Dean's movements, then snapped back to mine.

"Sam." I snarled, shifting my grip. In one fluid motion, I replaced the blade at his throat with my hand and pressed the knife against his stomach instead. "What did you do?"

His throat bobbed as he struggled to find words. "Eve..." He choked out, his voice strained.

Dean was suddenly beside me, his hand wrapping around my wrist. "Kinda hard to win her back if he's dead."

The words hit me like a brick. My grip faltered. My breath hitched.

I blinked, my mind racing, before finally—slowly—I loosened my hold on Sam's throat, letting him suck in a breath.

"Okay... a little more..." Dean murmured, his voice softer now, his fingers carefully prying my hand away. His touch was steady, patient.

Finally, I let go.

"...Okay."

"Sam." I growled, stepping back, giving Dean just enough space to move between us.

"You were gonna let her—" Sam started, his voice sharp with betrayal as he pushed against Dean's hold, only to be shoved back against the wall.

"Hey!" Dean barked, eyes flashing. "I can let her go."

Sam stilled, nostrils flaring, his furious gaze locking onto mine.

I inhaled deeply, willing my pulse to slow, then exhaled as I dropped onto the edge of the unmade queen bed. My fingers absently toyed with the blade's edge, the cold steel grounding me. Another slow breath. I felt Dean shift slightly, ready to stop me if I lunged again.

When I opened my eyes, I leveled a snarl at Sam.

"I won't ask again." My voice was quiet, measured—too calm.

A flicker of something passed between them—fear, maybe, or at least the recognition that I was dead serious.

Sam cleared his throat, rubbing his neck where my hand had been. His movements were slower now, more controlled, but my eyes studied him differently—no longer with anger, but with calculation.

Without a word, he pushed off the wall and crossed the room to the sink. The faucet creaked as he splashed cold water onto his face, then yanked a small towel from the hook, pressing it against his skin. He exhaled sharply, eyes fixed downward.

"Jesus," he muttered, voice rough. "And I thought Bri had a temper."

I shot to my feet, blade ready.

Dean moved faster.

With barely a glance, he snatched the knife from my grip, twirling it once between his fingers before giving me a pointed look.

"Impressive." He smirked, flashing the blade. "But not cool."

I narrowed my eyes at him but quickly refocused on Sam as he turned from the mirror, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

Dean sighed, tipping his head toward his brother. "You, uh... might wanna answer her."

Sam's jaw clenched. I mirrored his stance, waiting.

Finally, he spoke.

"I said... if I don't push you away, you'll stay." His voice was lower now, steadier. "And if you stay, you'll die." He swallowed, the tension in his shoulders betraying him. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But eventually."

His gaze faltered for the first time.

"And I—" He hesitated, something unreadable passing over his face. "I can't take that."

"That's not your decision to make, Sam!" I shouted, stepping toward him—only for Dean to shift between us.

"That's what she said—" Sam started, shifting his weight, but I cut him off before he could finish.

"Of course that's what she said!" My hands slapped against my sides as I gestured sharply, taking another step forward. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes.

I caught the movement, just as he slid behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Really?" I growled.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, figured I'd try."

I huffed, rolling my eyes at his half-assed attempt to hold me back, but turned my attention straight back to Sam.

"Of course that's what she said," I repeated, my voice razor-sharp. "She's her own person, Sam. You know that."

"I know—I do—" He scoffed, raking a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him.

"Then what the fuck are you doing?" My voice rose as I pushed forward again, only for Dean's grip to tighten around my hips, keeping me in place.

"You're so goddamn worried about her getting killed that you're pushing her away. Do you not realize she's already in this? She's already involved!"

"Wha—?" Sam started, pushing himself off the counter, his eyes locking onto mine.

I growled, slamming my hand against Dean's chest.

The force sent him flying backward, landing with a grunt on the bed. But I was already moving—closing the distance between me and Sam in a blink.

SLAP!

Sam's head snapped to the side, his hand flying to his jaw.

Dean scrambled up from the bed but hesitated, eyes darting between us as I took a deliberate step back.

"You're a fucking idiot, Sam Winchester." I pointed at him, my voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Sam's eyes, still dazed from the slap, dragged up from the floor to meet mine.

"She's invested. She's involved." My voice was a mix of anger and something else—something raw. "In you."

I saw the way his throat bobbed, his jaw tensing as the words landed.

"And at this point, both of us are too invested in you two airheads—" I smirked, shooting a glare at Dean, who nodded slowly, knowingly. "—that even if we walked away from this life, like you so desperately want, we'd still be targets."

Sam's face fell.

Dean's stance tightened.

I jabbed a finger toward the barely-hinged door. "Every monster out there would use us against you. They'd use you against us." My voice rose with each word, my frustration spilling over. "Whether we're together or not, we're linked now."

Sam's eyes dropped to my boots, his jaw locked so tight I thought it might shatter.

I took a step closer. "Sam, you fucked up."

Dean's hand wrapped around my wrist before I could get any closer, a silent warning.

I held my ground.

"It's Bri's choice whether she stays or goes." I shot a smirk at Dean before turning my attention back to Sam. "Just like it's mine."

Dean shifted slightly but didn't let go.

"Let her make that choice."

I let my words settle over him, heavy and suffocating, before adding, "All you had to do was make the most of her while you have her. Had her."

My arms crossed as I pulled my wrist free from Dean's grip.

"Had her?" Sam echoed, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"She left." I snapped, throwing a sharp gesture past Dean.

"Where?" Sam's voice edged into panic, but I just rolled my eyes, glaring at him even harder—if that was even possible.

"Are you serious?" I scoffed, shaking my head as I turned away from him, striding out of the hotel room and into the night air. Their footsteps followed close behind.

"We've got this Big Bad, a vamp cult, and—hell, Lucifer knows what else—out there hunting you and her." My voice rose as I stalked toward the lonely Mustang, boots scuffing against the pavement. "And you just let her go?"

"Stop ragging on me, alright?" Sam snapped, his frustration bubbling over.

I stopped short of the Mustang, spinning so fast Sam nearly stumbled back. Dean groaned behind me.

"I get it, I fucked up, but you—"

"—What?" I was in front of him in a blink, my voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "What could I have possibly done that even comes close to your screw-up?"

Dean moved fast, stepping in beside me, ready to intercept.

"I'll rag on you as long as I damn well please," I continued, stepping up into Sam's space, my voice like steel. "What are you gonna do about it, boy?"

His nostrils flared, his jaw tightening, but before he could respond, I tilted my head—and let my fangs slide down.

Sam's eyes widened slightly.

Dean was on me in an instant, pressing a firm hand against my back, gently but insistently steering me toward the Mustang. "...I can only do so much..." I heard him mutter under his breath.

Ignoring him, I reached into the front seat and pulled out Bri's set of keys and her phone.

A few seconds later, Sam and Dean appeared beside me, and we all stared down at the items in my palm.

Frowning.

Silent.

Something unspoken hanging thick in the cold night air.

"Where would she go?" Sam asked, raking both hands through his hair before letting them rest behind his head. He started pacing the parking lot, his frustration radiating off him in waves.

I tilted my head, a bored gleam in my eyes as I met Dean's knowing look. He held up a hand, silently telling me to keep quiet. Instead, he turned to Sam.

"Where do you think, Sammy?" Dean pressed, gripping his brother's shoulder to stop the restless movement. "We were headed to Bobby's—"

"—So we go to Bobby's." I cut in, slipping Bri's keys into my pocket. "We pack up now, and we go."

Their eyes snapped to me.

"And what... you're driving the Mustang?" Sam asked, nodding toward the car.

I blinked at him. "Obviously."

"No, you ride with Dean, and I—"

Sam didn't get to finish. I laughed, low and sharp, shaking my head as I leaned against the driver's door, pushing it shut with my hip.

"What?" Sam asked, his annoyance thick in his voice.

"Nothing, Sammy." My tone dripped with amusement as I met his glare head-on. "You just seem to forget—this is my car too. I'm not Bri. I'm not letting you anywhere near this steering wheel."

Sam's jaw locked, his whole frame going rigid as steam practically rolled off him. I stayed where I was, arms crossed, unmoving.

The tension stretched between us, thick and unyielding, until—

"How about I—" Dean started.

"No."

Dean held up his hands in mock surrender, stepping back. I shifted my gaze from his slightly disappointed expression to Sam's simmering anger.

"You can stay angry all you want, Sam," I shot back, pushing myself off the door and locking my eyes onto his clenched jaw. "I'm not gonna coddle you like everyone else."

I threw a final glare, asserting my dominance, before turning on my heel to head back into the room.

I frowned as I scanned the unmade bed, gathering Bri's clothes she'd left behind and shoving them into her duffle. As I zipped it up, I began to fold my own clothes, the silence of the room broken only by a gentle knock at the door.

I stopped, my eyes flicking toward the entrance, where Dean hesitantly stepped in.

"What should we tell the front office?" Dean chuckled dryly, tapping the dented door frame.

"Someone broke in?" I shrugged, zipping up Bri's duffle and buttoning my own. Dean stood next to me, his presence close but uncertain. "What is it, Dean?"

"It's Sam," he huffed, his head dropping slightly. "He's really letting the guilt get to him, and your response isn't—"

"—helping?" I finished his sentence, catching his gaze head-on. His eyes locked with mine, raw with frustration.

"Dean, I get it," I sighed, pulling Bri's duffle strap over my shoulder while grabbing my own bag off the bed. "He's your brother..." I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the handle. "...but Bri's my sister."

Dean's jaw tightened slightly as he wordlessly tugged Bri's duffle off my shoulder, slinging it over his own alongside his own bag. I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could get a word out, his hands were on my face, his lips brushing against mine—quick, gentle, grounding.

"I get it." He muttered, his eyes locking onto mine with quiet understanding. "Let's go find her."

His hand found mine again, fingers weaving together in a grip that was warm, steady—exactly what I needed.

"Thanks." I murmured, watching as he tossed Bri's duffle into the backseat of the Mustang while I did the same with mine. I shut the door and folded my arms, meeting Sam's glare as he ducked into the Impala's passenger seat.

I just shook my head.

"Once we find her, he'll be better." Dean sighed, glancing toward his brother before his eyes flicked back to me. "And so will you."

A smirk tugged at his lips as he gave my hand a final squeeze before letting go, pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek.

"See you on the road."

I grinned after him as he slid into the Impala, but when I turned to my Mustang, hesitation settled over me.

The driver's door was open, the seat empty.

For the first time, I'd be driving the Mustang alone.

Without Bri.

I swallowed hard and slid into the seat, staring at the vacant passenger side. It felt wrong. Like a ghost of something that used to be whole.

Nothing was going to be the same. Not after this.

The drive was long—12 hours and 34 minutes from Memphis, Tennessee to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. But we'd barely gotten eight hours in before everything had gone to hell.

My grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white as the Mustang's purr became my only constant. Gas stations blurred into streetlights, semis whizzed by in my periphery, and the occasional street race with the Impala was the only break from my spiraling thoughts.

Finally, we crossed into Elk Point, South Dakota.

One last stop.

I pulled up next to the Impala at a gas station, stepping out just as Sam spoke.

"I'll call Bobby." His voice was tight, the tension thick as he walked off.

Dean and I exchanged a glance as we started fueling up, the final stretch ahead of us.

"We've got about an hour 'til we're there." Dean hummed from across the curb, leaning over just enough to catch my eyes. "How you holding up?" He nodded toward the empty Mustang.

I sighed, leaning against the back fender, watching the numbers climb on the gas pump. "It's different." The words felt hollow, like they didn't even begin to cover it. I crossed my arms, exhaling hard. "I don't know, Dean."

"What?" He pushed, stepping off the curb, his curiosity laced with concern.

I hesitated before finally admitting it. "She's never just up and left like this before..." My throat tightened, a knot forming that I stubbornly swallowed down. "With everything we've dealt with—what we're about to go up against—she shouldn't be out there alone."

Dean frowned, catching my chin between his fingers when I tried to lower my head.

"We'll find her." His voice was low, grounding, pressing through the storm in my mind. Then, his lips brushed against my forehead, a quiet reassurance. "I'll even let you take a few shots at Sam if it'll make you feel better..."

I huffed, lifting an eyebrow. "Let me?"

Dean smirked, but before he could respond, Sam approached from the gas station, tucking his phone into his pocket.

Dean's gaze shifted. "Well?"

"He knows we're coming." Sam's voice was quiet, guarded.

I narrowed my eyes. "Has he heard from Bri?"

Dean moved back to the Impala just as our gas pumps clicked in sync, the sound breaking the tense silence.

Sam hesitated before finally answering. "He wouldn't say."

His glare cut across the roof of the car, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"She's there." I muttered, slamming the gas pump back into the receiver. "Let's go."

Without another word, I led the way out of the station, gripping the wheel tighter as we pushed the last stretch. That hour-long drive? We cut it down to thirty, maybe forty minutes—speed limits be damned.

Pulling up to one of the only functioning stoplights in town, I flicked on my turn signal and glared at the red glow.

I exhaled into the steering wheel, exhaustion finally creeping in after the endless miles. My eyes flickered from the windshield to the empty passenger seat—Bri's phone and car keys glinted under the streetlight, a cruel reminder of her absence.

Then, movement.

A dark-colored 1970 Charger rolled through the intersection. My pulse jumped into my throat as my gaze locked onto the driver's seat. For a split second, I swore I saw her.

Wishful thinking. Maybe.

The light turned green, and I shoved down the hope clawing at my ribs, leading the way down the wooded road toward Bobby's. Gravel crunched under the tires as I veered off to the side, the Impala mirroring my movements.

I didn't even kill the engine before I was out of the car, tearing around the Impala, through the front door, and into the house like a storm breaking through the walls.

"Bri!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the cluttered space.

I didn't wait for Bobby to react, didn't check if Dean and Sam had followed. My boots pounded against the wooden stairs as I took them two at a time.

"Bri!" I yelled again, throwing open doors, scanning each empty room until I reached ours—untouched twin beds staring back at me.

My stomach twisted. My breath caught.

"Goddammit, Brianna!"

"Eve!" Bobby's voice rang up the stairs.

I pressed against the top railing, peering down into the entranceway. His expression was set—firm, but laced with something knowing.

"She's not here..." he said.

My stomach tightened. I bolted down the stairs, meeting his gaze head-on. "Has she been here?" My voice cracked slightly, desperation creeping in despite myself.

Bobby exhaled heavily, glancing between the three of us before finally answering, "She told me not to tell you where she was."

Sam tensed beside me. "So she was here," he muttered, his eyes flicking around the room, restless.

Bobby's gaze sharpened as he turned to him. "Especially you."

Sam looked away, jaw tightening. Dean and I shared a knowing glance, but neither of us spoke.

Bobby sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard. "She needed to blow off some steam. She's on a hunt." He moved toward the office, expecting us to follow. "She's not okay."

"No shit." I shot back, my frustration bubbling over. "No disrespect, Bobby, but why the hell didn't you keep her here?"

Bobby stopped short, turning to face me fully. "I ain't her damn keeper, Eve." His voice was gruff but even. "She's a grown woman. You of all people should get that."

"But I am." I shot back, stepping up to Bobby's tense figure. "I'm supposed to keep her ass out of trouble—just enough so she thinks she can take care of herself."

Dean opened his mouth, but I cut him off before he could get a word in.

"She does the same for me," I added, glancing at him before locking eyes with Bobby again. "It's what we do."

Bobby's jaw tightened.

I rolled my eyes, exhaling sharply. "Fine. Whatever. When's she coming back?"

Bobby let out a long sigh, leaning back against his desk. "Shouldn't be more than a day or two."

I clenched my jaw, processing, before moving toward the bookshelves. "Good. In the meantime, I'll be reorganizing this pigsty and looking up time-traveling entities—" My glare flicked up to him, daring him to object. "Or is that confidential too?"

Sam shifted, stepping forward. "Hey, give him some slack—"

Dean, seeing where this was headed, grabbed the back of Sam's shirt, tugging him slightly to the side.

I turned my glare on Sam. "Are you actually speaking to me right now?" My voice was low, sharp as a knife.

Sam's jaw flexed, but he didn't answer.

Bobby, reading the room, let out a long sigh and grabbed both Winchesters by the collars, steering them into the kitchen and away from me.