Written by: KariGorsuch

Two days later, I pulled up to Bobby's in the 1970 Charger that he'd loaned me, rolling my stiff shoulders as exhaustion settled deep in my bones. The hunt with Rufus had been a mess- some kind of vengeful spirit that refused to go down easy- but we'd handled it. Barely. My ribs still ached from being thrown into a damn wall, and I was pretty sure I had a cut somewhere from when the thing had sent me flying into a table.

I killed the engine, rubbing a hand over my face before grabbing my duffle from the passenger seat. The second I looked up- really looked- my stomach dropped.

The Mustang.

And right next to it- the Impala.

I gritted my teeth, gripping the duffle's strap so hard my knuckles turned white. Of course. Of course he'd show up.

Taking a steadying breath, I climbed out of the Charger, slamming the door harder than necessary. The gravel crunched under my boots as I made my way toward the house, trying to ignore the way my pulse picked up. If I was lucky- I could sneak into the house without anybody noticing.

I had just made it to the porch when the front door swung open, and there he was.

Sam.

His eyes landed on me instantly, dark and unreadable, his jaw clenched like he'd been bracing for this moment just as much as I had. I forced myself to keep walking, to keep my face blank, even as something inside me twisted painfully at the sight of him.

"Bri," he said, his voice rough, uncertain.

I didn't stop. Didn't even look at him.

I brushed past him, stepping inside without a word.

"Bri- wait," he tried again, following me in, but I turned on my heel so fast he nearly ran into me.

Masking the flinch of pain from the way my hips protested the movement, I leveled him with a glare sharp enough to cut. "No," I snapped, my voice low but razor-edged. "You don't get to wait. You don't get to act like you care, like you have any fucking right to ask me for a damn thing after the shit you pulled."

Sam exhaled hard, his expression tight, his jaw working like he was biting back words. "I didn't-"

"You did." I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "You made your choice, Sam. You don't get to just walk back in here and act like that didn't happen."

His eyes flickered, something unreadable flashing through them, but I didn't give him a chance to speak. I shifted my weight, swallowing down the sharp ache in my ribs, and moved to step around him.

Then he did something stupid.

He reached for me.

His fingers barely brushed my arm, but it was enough. I jerked back instinctively, a fresh surge of pain flaring through my bruised side. I sucked in a sharp breath, cursing myself when my vision blurred for a second.

And Sam saw it.

His whole face changed in an instant- his guarded expression dropping as his brows furrowed, his gaze snapping to my side like he could see through the layers of fabric to the bruises underneath. "You're hurt," he said, his voice low, steady, but lined with something dangerous.

"It's none of your business, " I retorted, retreating another step.

Sam took a step closer, his posture shifting, that damn protective instinct kicking in despite everything. "The hell it isn't," he muttered, his voice rough.

I scoffed, shaking my head. "No. You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to tell me to walk out of your life- push me away- then act like you care when it's convenient for you."

His jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with something unreadable- anger, regret- maybe even guilt. "Bri, just-"

"No." I cut him off, my voice sharp. "You made it clear where we stand. So don't stand there acting like you have any right to be concerned."

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration obvious. "It's not that simple-"

"Fuck you," I snapped, my voice rising with anger.

His eyes darkened, his whole body tensing at my words. "Bri-"

"Enough, the both of you." The sharpness of Bobby's voice cut through the tension in the room like a knife. I hadn't even noticed him approach, but there he was, his arms crossed, a look of barely contained annoyance on his face. "You're both acting like ijits."

I glanced at Bobby, my anger flickering, then back at Sam, whose jaw was clenched so tight I'm half surprised he didn't crack something.

Bobby stepped forward, his voice quieter but firm. "You're not gonna fix anything by yelling at each other. Bri's hurt, Sam. You're both making it worse."

I crossed my arms, trying to mask how exhausted I was. "Bobby- we've been over this. I don't need him."

Bobby's eyes softened but his tone didn't lose its edge. "You might not need him right now, Bri," he said, "But you sure as hell need someone. And you sure as hell don't need to keep pushing people away."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Sam beat me to it. "Bri, I—"

"No," I interrupted, cutting him off before he could finish. "I'm done, Sam. I'm done trying to make this work. I'm done with this... whatever the hell this is." I motioned between us. "I can't keep doing this with you. You make it impossible to know where I stand."

Sam's shoulders tensed, his face reddening as if he was about to say something he'd regret. I could see him fighting with himself, struggling between his feelings for me and whatever this mess had turned into.

"You don't get to act like you're the one hurt here," I continued, my voice trembling now. "I'm the one left to pick up the pieces of what you've done, Sam. Just... Leave me alone."

With a final glance at Sam—who was still rooted in place, his expression a twisted mix of regret and helplessness—I turned and made my way towards the stairs. Peeking into the study, Eve was engrossed in some book, with Dean passed out on the couch behind her.

I crept up the stairs, moving as quietly as I could, my footsteps barely making a sound against the wooden floors. At the top of the stairs, I paused. My fingers lingered on the railing, my body exhausted, but my mind still racing, unable to settle.

But before I could move, the faint sound of footsteps from downstairs made my stomach twist. I knew who it was before they even came into view. Sam. I could feel the weight of his presence even before he stepped into the hallway at the top of the stairs.

His voice came low, quiet, as if testing the air, unsure of where he stood with me. "Bri..."

"Jesus FUCKING CHRSIT SAM!" I whirled around to face him, my chest heaving with the force of my frustration, my anger boiling over. "What the hell do you want from me?!" I shouted, the words bursting from my lips like a dam breaking, echoing down the stairs.

Before Sam could even open his mouth, a second set of footsteps echoed up the stairs.

"The fuck is going on up here?" Eve's voice was sharp, carrying the kind of authority that could cut through steel.

I turned my head just enough to see her storming toward us, her eyes flashing as she took in the scene. She barely spared Sam a glance before coming straight to my side, her expression shifting the moment she got a good look at me.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice softer, but still edged with warning.

I swallowed, my throat tight from the yelling and the emotions trying to escape. "I'm good," I muttered quietly.

Eve turned then, her full attention snapping to Sam like a blade locking onto its target. "You got a damn death wish, Winchester?" she bit out, stepping between us with all the confidence of someone who could- and probably would- put him on his ass.

Sam, to his credit, didn't rise to the bait. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his whole body rigid. "This isn't your fight, Eve."

She let out a sharp laugh, but there was no amusement lacing it. "The hell it isn't. You think you can just come up here, corner her, and what- explain? Fix shit with some half-assed apology? No, Sam. That's not how this works."

Sam exhaled sharply, his patience clearly thinning. "I just want to talk to her," he said, his voice restrained, but I could hear the frustration bleeding through. "Alone."

Eve shifted slightly in front of me, still standing her ground, but I stepped around her before she could speak. My whole body was humming with exhaustion and pain, but I wasn't about to back down.

"The thought ever cross your mind that I don't wanna talk to you?" My voice dropped into a drawl that I hadn't used in years, the rough edges of my accent creeping back in with the heat of my anger.

Sam's brows furrowed, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Bri-"

"Nah," I cut him off, shaking my head, the fire in my chest burning hotter. "You don't get to 'Bri' me like nothin' happened. You made damn sure I knew where you stood, Sam. So why're you here?"

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Because I care-"

I let out a sharp bitter laugh. "No, y'dont," I snapped, my voice dripping with the old Southern bite. "Not when it matters. Not when it's hard."

Sam looked like I'd struck him, his whole body going still. But I wasn't done.

"You said I shoulda left- so I did. Ain't that what you wanted? So why the hell do you think you can just waltz back up, actin' like you got a goddamn right to be even slightly concerned 'bout me?" I continued.

His lips parted like he wanted to argue, but nothing came out.

Eve scoffed. "That's what I thought," she muttered, shaking her head.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he finally replied, his voice low.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Well, now y'know."

His eyes flickered with something- regret, guilt- who knows. He gave a stiff nod, then turned and walked away.

"And Sam?" I called after him, almost feeling a flicker of pity as he turned, a sliver of hope in his eyes. "Lose my number."

His jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. Didn't fight it. He just nodded once, stiff and resigned, then turned and trampled down the stairs.

Eve let out a breath beside me, low and unimpressed. "Dumbass," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she turned to me. "You okay?"

"Never better," I lied as she looped her arm through mine and pulled me into the bedroom we shared.

She gave me a half hearted glare, dropping my arm to shove the door shut. "Strip."

"What?" I tossed her a confused glance, I pull my pistol from my waistband and dropped it on my bed.

Eve crossed her arms, arching a brow like I was the idiot here. "You heard me. Strip. You're hurt, and I wanna see how bad."

I thought about arguing for a moment, then decided against it. Stupid Vampire abilities. Shrugging off my jacket, I tossed it onto the bed before carefully peeling my shirt up and over my head.

Eve's expression darkened the second she saw the bruises- angry red blotches painting my ribs and side, a few fading along my stomach. She muttered a curse under her breath, stepping closer to inspect them.

"This from the hunt?" she asked, voice sharp but laced with something softer.

"Only the new ones," I admitted. "Rufus took the brunt of it, but things got... messy."

She reached out, fingers ghosting over the worst of the bruising, her touch light but careful. "And you were just gonna act like this wasn't a big deal?"

I shrugged. "I've had worse- literally cracked a rib. This is nothing."

She shot me a glare as she knelt beside me, carefully pressing along my ribs to check for anything worse. I winced, and her eyes snapped up to mine, unimpressed. "You're a dumbass," she muttered, grabbing some medical tape.

"Y'know, you and Bobby should start a club," I grumbled as she started wrapping my ribs, her touch firm but gentle.

"Yeah, well, maybe if you stopped throwing yourself into danger like you've got a damn death wish, we wouldn't have to."

I didn't respond to that. Because, deep down, I knew she had a point.

Eve finished up, securing the tape before sitting back on her heels, studying me with those sharp, knowing eyes. "You're running yourself ragged, Bri."

I scoffed. "You're one to talk."

She rolled her eyes. "I know what I'm doing. You? You're just trying to outrun something that's already caught you."

My stomach twisted. I hated how easily she saw through me.

Eve sighed, standing up and crossing her arms. "You can keep pretending like you don't give a damn about Sam, but we both know that's bullshit."

I clenched my jaw, looking away. "I don't wanna talk about him."

"Tough shit." She tilted her head toward the door. "Because he's still downstairs, and unless I missed something, he looked about two seconds from punching a wall."

I snorted, "He can put his fuckin' head through it for all I care. Ain't my problem if he's all torn up about this shit. He made his choice."

Eve didn't argue, just studied me for a long moment, her gaze too sharp for my liking. "Yeah, he did. And so did you. Just don't go acting like it don't hurt."

I scoffed, tugging my shirt back on with a wince. "Ain't about hurt. It's about respect. I ain't gonna chase after a man who pushed me out like I ain't worth a damn."

"Respect? Where the hell was the respect when you fucking left? You left fucking everything!" Eve snapped, her anger and hurt at my leaving rising again.

I froze, my fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. "Eve-"

"No." She cut me off, stepping closer, fire burning in her eyes. "You wanna talk about respect? About people pushing you away? What the hell do you think you did to me, Bri?"

My stomach twisted, guilt creeping in like a slow burn. "It's not the same-"

"The hell it ain't!" Her voice cracked, raw with something deeper than just anger. "You walked away from Sam, from me, from all of us! You didn't even say anything! One second you were there, the next- gone."

"I sent Dean a text! I would have texted you, but you still don't have a damn phone!"

Eve let out a sharp, humorless laugh, throwing her hands in the air. "Oh, well, excuse me! A damn text, Bri? That's what I meant to you? That's how little I mattered?"

I gritted my teeth, my frustration bubbling over. "I wasn't thinking like that, Eve! I was a mess—I needed to go! It would have been one thing if he had said it before sleeping with me, before pretending to be this perfect fucking boyfriend, before making me fall for him- but he didn't. He waited till he had my heart in his fucking hands before shattering it."

Eve's expression flickered—anger, sympathy, something else I couldn't quite name. But she didn't back down. "Yeah, Bri. He hurt you. He fucked up. And what he did? It ain't right. But that don't change what you did either."

I clenched my jaw, my chest tightening. "I did what I had to do."

Eve scoffed. "Bullshit. You did what was easiest. Running? That ain't survival, Bri—that's fear. And if you think that walking away from everyone who gives a damn about you is gonna make the pain stop, then you're dumber than I thought."

I flinched like she'd hit me, but Eve just exhaled, shaking her head. "I ain't sayin' you gotta forgive him. Hell, I wouldn't blame you if you never did. But you gotta stop pretendin' like none of this matters. Like you don't matter."

My throat felt tight, like all the words I wanted to say were stuck somewhere too deep to reach.

Eve's voice softened, the fire dimming just slightly. "You loved him."

I swallowed hard. "Don't."

"You love him," she corrected, her gaze steady. "And that's what scares you more than anything else."

I looked away, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "I don't wanna love someone who don't want me back."

Eve sighed, stepping forward and gripping my shoulders. "Then stop lettin' him live in your head rent-free, babe." She squeezed gently. "Move on. Or fight for him. But quit standin' in the wreckage like you ain't got a way out."

I let out a shaky breath, staring down at the floor. "Soo what happened with you and Dean? You guys looked... oddly at peace with each other."

Eve snorted, settling back on her bed. "At peace is a stretch," she muttered. "We just finally quit dancing around the inevitable."

I arched my brow. "And the inevitable is...?"

She shot me a look, so I mirrored her, scooting up onto my bed and pulling the blanket around my legs.

"Complicated."

I snorted, "That's vague as hell."

"Yeah, well," she shrugged. "It ain't exactly a fairy tale. We fight like hell, we piss each other off, and sometimes I wanna deck him just for breathing too loud. But..." she hesitated for half a second. "We got tired of pretending we don't give a damn about each other."

I studied her face, catching the way she avoided my eyes. "I cock blocked you."

Eve groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. "Jesus Christ, Bri."

I smirked, leaning back against the headboard despite the dull ache in my ribs. "I did, though. Didn't I?" When Eve didn't reply, I laughed. "I did! I'm so fucking sorry, Eve-"

"You should be sorry," she muttered, throwing a pillow at my face.

I grinned. "So you were about to get lucky."

Eve groaned again, grabbing another pillow like she was considering smothering me with it. "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

She sighed dramatically, dropping the pillow onto her lap. "You're lucky I love you, idiot."

I smiled, the teasing fading into something softer. "I know."

She rolled her eyes, then nudged my foot with hers. "Now, for real, get some sleep before Bobby decides we need a lecture on 'acting like goddamn adults.'"

I let my head fall back against the pillow with a tired sigh. "Fine, fine. But if you and Dean sneak off in the middle of the night, I'm locking the door behind you."

Eve flipped me off as she flicked the light off, both of us settling into our beds.

The air was thick again, heavy with the scent of rain that hadn't fallen yet. I was running, my breath ragged, my heart pounding so loud it drowned out the world. The motel's neon sign flickered ahead, casting eerie red light against the wet pavement. I needed to reach it. I needed to find him.

But as I got closer, the sign changed. The letters warped, twisting into something unrecognizable, something wrong. The red glow bled into the night, turning everything around me into a haze of crimson. My feet slowed against my will. The motel door was open, just slightly, just enough to beckon me inside.

I stepped in.

The walls dripped with something dark, thick, and reeking of rust. The room was empty—no furniture, no warmth, just a bed in the center. And on it—Sam.

He was lying there, still as death, his skin ashen, his lips parted like he had been trying to speak. My breath hitched, and I stumbled forward, my hands reaching for him.

"Sam?" My voice cracked.

His eyes shot open—black as the void.

I recoiled, my body screaming at me to run, but I couldn't move. His hand shot up, gripping my wrist—ice-cold, unrelenting. "You should have left," he murmured, his voice distant, hollow. "You should have walked away."

I shook my head, panic rising like bile. "No—no, I'm not leaving you. I won't."

A twisted smile curled on his lips. "You already did."

The grip on my wrist tightened, the cold seeping into my bones. I gasped, trying to pull away, but the room shifted. The walls closed in, shadows curling from the corners, taking shape—faces I knew, faces I loved. My parents. Their empty eyes bore into me, their mouths moving soundlessly. The weight of their silent judgment crushed me, my chest tightening.

Sam's voice slithered through the void. "You were never enough for them. You'll never be enough for me."

"No!" I screamed, shaking my head violently. "That's not true!"

The walls shattered, falling away into an abyss. I was falling with them, darkness swallowing me whole.

And then—fire.

It erupted below me, engulfing everything in scorching heat. In the center of the inferno stood Eve, her black-veined grin widening as she watched me fall. "You thought you could save him?" she taunted. "You can't even save yourself."

The flames roared higher, licking at my skin, and I reached out—desperate, aching.

And then I saw him.

Sam stood at the edge of the fire, just beyond my grasp. His expression was unreadable, his eyes shadowed. "Goodbye, Brianna," he said softly.

The fire swallowed me whole.

I shot upright, gasping for air as I kicked out at the blankets tangled around my legs.

Eve was on her feet in an instant, her knife drawn before she even registered what was happening. Her eyes darted around the room before landing on me, wide and alert. "Bri?"

I pressed a shaking hand to my chest, my pulse hammering like a war drum. The nightmare clung to me, thick and suffocating- the empty stares from the ones I loved, Sam's black eyes, and the feeling of being too late.

"Shit" I muttered, scrubbing a hand over my face. My skin was clammy, my shirt sticking to my back.

Eve hesitated for only a second before dropping the knife on the bedside table and kneeling beside it. "Nightmare?" she asked quietly.

I nodded, then shook my head. My throat felt raw, like I'd been screaming.

Eve sighed and flopped down on the bed next to me, propping herself up on one elbow. "You wanna talk about it?"

I shook my head. "No."

She didn't push, just simply sat there until I broke. "It was the same nightmare- but different. Still the Goddess Eve, still losing Sam..." I sighed heavily, shifting to ease the ache starting in my hips. "Just... losing him in different ways every time."

"Damn," she muttered, frowning. "That's some cruel shit your brain's putting you through."

I let out a dry chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "Tell me about it." My fingers twisted in the blanket as I pulled them back up. "It's like... no matter what I do, I lose him. I try to save him, I fail. I walk away, he still slips through my fingers. It's like I'm stuck in this endless loop where the ending never changes."

Eve paused for a beat before shifting slightly to catch my eye. "Have you been having these nightmares for a while?"

I slowly pulled my gaze into her, feeling my face drain of color as she pressed her lips into a thin line before tilting her head, sympathetically. Eve was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Did you tell him? Before all of... this?"

I shook my head slightly. "Didn't have them when I slept in the same bed as him- only when I'm alone."

Eve's brows furrowed. "So, let me get this straight. When you were with Sam—like, actually sleeping next to him—you didn't get these nightmares?"

I nodded, rubbing my temple. "Not once."

She let out a low whistle. "Damn."

I scoffed. "Yeah. Damn."