A/N: Hey girlies and non-girlies!!! Quick reminder/making something explicit: up to this point, except for a few small bits, Stay With Me has been entirely from Abby's perspective, (as shown in the fact we don't know what Sam or Dean is thinking, we're only present in scenes Abby is, and John is mostly referred to as Dad, how Abby thinks of him.) This is super important as there are lots of flashbacks and various things in this chapter where it's important background knowledge to have.

Also, the official song for this chapter is Plastic Flowers by The Front Bottoms (linked above) but also, I assigned each flashback (there are five) a specific song that I listened to while writing it so I put it, and the specific lyrics, before each flashback :)

~

There was a storm gathering on the horizon and the beach air blowing in Abby's face was getting cooler.

"Dean, is it gonna rain soon?"

Dean glanced at the horizon. "Probably. Too far off to tell though. Nothing for you to worry about."

Abby's anxiety soothed, she knelt back down, shoveling damp sand into a bucket— she was making a sand castle. The bucket filled quickly and she tipped it upside down. But when she lifted the bucket off, the sand collapsed, not holding the shape anymore. Next to her, Sam's sandcastle was holding the form perfectly, his castle well-defined with windows and turrets and all sorts of things.

"Sammy, my sand won't work," Abby complained, her brown eyes a little glassy.

Sam looked over, "Hey, it's okay. You can just share mine." he said in the tone typical of a sixteen-year-old who really didn't want his older brother to yell at him for making his baby sister cry.

"But I want my own." Abby pouted. sitting down on the sand.

"Well, then you can just have mine." Sam reasoned. "I'll make another."

"Okay!" Abby brightened up but when she went to add another turret, as soon as she touched the sand castle it collapsed, falling down, down, down.

"Sam, it broke." Abby's bottom lip quivered but when she looked to her left, Sam wasn't there. Instead, looking up, Abby met the withering gaze of her father.

"Abby, what are you doing?" Despite the warm weather and sand around them, Dad was dressed in jeans and many layers with his leather jacket, the one Dean wore a lot.

Dad grabbed Abby's arm and pulled her to her feet. Looking down at her, he didn't let go of her arm, even when she pleaded, "Dad, let go, that hurts!"

Looking at her arm Abby could see the skin around Dad's fingerprints getting red and purple. "Daddy, please." Abby tried to tug her arm away but he just wouldn't let go.

Wordlessly, Dad turned and started walking towards the sea. Towards the storm.

Abby looked back to see if Dean knew what was happening but the beach was empty. No towels or chairs or sandcastles just sand stretching on forever.

Abby was stumbling after her father, unable to escape his grasp or keep up.

"Dean!" Abby yelled, still trying to struggle away. "Sammy!" The only sound was Dad's footsteps and waves crashing against the sand.

Abby glanced forward and they were almost at the ocean.

"Dad, I don't wanna go in the water." Dad's face was aimed away from her and Abby couldn't make out his expression. "Daddy, please don't make me." Abby pleaded.

She tried to go in front of him to look him in the eye; sometimes that worked when reasoning with Sam and Dean, but his fast long steps made it hard. Finally, he glanced down at Abby and Abby felt much, much colder looking into his yellow eyes.

Abby turned and was about to run when she felt something touch her feet. Whipping her head back around, they had reached the edge of the water. Cold flooded her body and suddenly she was alone, standing with water lapping around her feet, facing a horizon full of danger.

~

Abby couldn't move. Something was trapping her. What had just happened? Where was she?

All she could remember was the beach. And Dad. Yellow eyes.

Yellow eyes in a burning house in Salvation.

Yellow eyes looked at her as she pulled a trigger.

Then what?

Dean. Dean was hurt. They were in the car to go and get him and Dad help.

If she opened her eyes she should be able to see them.

Slowly, Abby opened her eyes. It was hard because her face was very wet.

Huh, that was weird. It hadn't been raining.

Then it hit.

Abby hadn't just fallen asleep.

She had been awake; Sam and Dad had been arguing. Then suddenly there had been a bright light and nothing.

There was a car crash. That would explain why Abby couldn't move the fingers on her right arm when she tried to, and couldn't move her legs when her brain said to.

Sam was yelling her name, his yells barely loud enough to hear over the terrible ringing in Abby's ears.

When Abby tried to open her eyes all she could see was dark and red and it felt terrible so she kept them closed.

Abby tried to say Sam's name but she couldn't. It was like there was no air left in her body to make sounds.

She tried to reach for him, Dean, anyone.
Whether or not she reached there, she'd never know, because soon everything went dark again.

~
First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes (this correlation is a little bit of a stretch tbh)

"This is the first day of my life / Swear I was born right in the doorway ... Your's is the first face that I saw / I think I was blind before I met you"

Dean's hands were sweating. The chair he was sitting on was cold and plastic and the hospital smelled of disinfectant. Sam was sitting next to him, trying to keep his eyes open. It was almost 3am. They had been there since last night and Dean had run out of cash to buy shitty coffee and candy bars for Sam.

The number of nurses that had passed them had been high. No one was rushing, which Dean mentally locked away as a good sign. He was bumping his leg up and down and couldn't stop.

Then, the door they were sitting across from opened. Dad came out, in a worn dark red button-up and with his gray shirt rumpled.

"Come on in, boys." He said, voice gruff from exhaustion but full of well-covered joy.

His hair was stuck to his forehead with a bit of sweat, but the stress usually evident on his brow was gone, Dean noticed as he stood up. Sam walked a step behind Dean as they went towards the door that John was holding open.

"Mom?" Dean asked, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. Even though he couldn't really see Sam, Dean was pretty sure he was peaking around Dean's side, looking into the hospital room, probably with his stupid sweet grin on his face.

Mom was sitting in a hospital bed in a big white room. Her face was flushed and her blonde hair had become more naturally curly, thanks to her lack of access to a straightener or rollers.

"Hey, boys! Come meet your sister." Mom said. Dean's eyes now focused on the bundle held in Mom's arms. For a second it felt like the world stopped when Mom shifted slightly so the brothers could see her. She was so, so unbelievably tiny and wrapped in a yellow blanket with a tiny matching yellow hat on. Her eyes were closed tightly; she looked to be asleep.

"Wanna hold her?" Mom said. Dean was too focused on the tiny, tiny baby in her arms to answer immediately. Sam was not.

"Yes!" he said and Dean half jumped.

Mom laughed and Dean couldn't help but feel a little bit less of the almost... heavy feeling on his heart.

"How about we let your older brother hold her first?" Mom said, ever kind and gentle. Dean, realizing he was the older brother, stepped closer to Mom's bedside so she could more easily hand her to him. Mom gently handed him his sister, and Dean, still practiced from holding Sam long ago, supported her head and nestled her in his arms. Dean looked down at his sister, her face still a bit red from, well, being born. She looks peaceful, Dean thought.

Then her little eyes opened and Dean wasn't staring at a sleeping baby but into the biggest brown eyes he had ever seen. She looked up at him with so much trust and love that Dean felt an overwhelming feeling in his whole body. It was like when he saw Sammy making friends, even though he struggled sometimes, or trying out a sport because he knew Dean wanted him to join more, but this was bigger, greater. This was filling his whole body up with light, from his toes to the top of his head.

Dean remembered learning about how baby birds imprint on the first thing they see. He felt like he understood that now, the trust that babies have when they first come into the world.

Dean was suddenly aware he had just been standing there, so he cleared his throat and said "So, uh, what's her name?" pulling his eyes away from his baby with a lot of effort.

"Me and your dad haven't decided yet, actually," Mary said, a slight grin on her face looking at her eldest and now youngest.

"What about Abigail?" Dean suggested, looking back down into Abigail's eyes, still open and looking up at him.
~

The smell of disinfectant was the first thing Abby noticed. It was unusual; hotel rooms and Baby didn't usually smell like that. She was lying in a hospital bed, wearing a strange shirt and pants: the pants were dark blue and looked like what nurses wore and her shirt was purple with dragonflies all over it. She wasn't in pain anymore, which was good, and she wasn't hooked up to any of the machines around her; they were all dark. Also good.

Her feet hit the floor and Abby noticed that she didn't have socks or her purple Converse on. She'd ask Sam or Dean where they were, she decided. First, she had to find them and Dad though. The last thing that Abby remembered was Sam yelling and no one responding, which made her stomach turn. But if she was fine, surely Dad and Dean were too.

"Sam? Dean?" Abby called padding slowly around a seemingly empty hallway. All of the hotel rooms had no patients, and there were no nurses bustling around. It felt like more of a set of a TV show than a real place. "Dad?" There was no sign of life, and that included her brothers and father.

Eventually, Abby came across a staircase she padded down. Her right leg felt a little sore as she went down, but it wasn't severe at all, just a little throbbing.

As she passed the large windows at the landing, halfway through the staircase, Abby heard the first sign of life: someone, probably a nurse, answering a phone. She peeked around the corner, down the rest of the stairs, and saw a pretty blonde nurse sitting at the nurse's station. Abby, suddenly nervous at the thought of approaching someone without her brothers by her side, bit her cheek and started twisting the hospital bracelet around her wrist as she watched for a few seconds.

Summoning her courage, she slowly started to walk down the steps. They seemed long and daunting, and Abby could feel she was weaker than normal when she almost stumbled and had to use the railing.

Abby walked across the lobby-like room to the nurses station where the nurse was looking through papers. "Excuse me, hi, I think I was in a car accident with my dad and brothers, I just need to find them," Abby said, as loudly and bravely as she could. She leaned against the counter as she talked, standing on her tippy toes so she could look the nurse better.

The nurse, however, made no movement of acknowledgment Abby had even spoken and didn't even glance her way.

"Um... hello?" Abby asked. Maybe she just hadn't heard?

The nurse made no movement.

"Excuse me-" Abby said a little louder. Nothing.

"Excuse me." More firmly this time, definitely loud enough not to be ignored, but still the nurse said and did nothing. It wasn't even like she was just ignoring Abby like Abby didn't exist at all to her.

So, Abby decided she could only set out to find Sam and Dean on her own. The hospital didn't seem to be a very big or busy one, based on how many people she had seen, so it couldn't be too hard. Abby walked through only two hallways, looking in each room —most were empty or their only occupant was a stranger— until she peeked into yet another room and was met with a very shocking sight.

A nine, almost ten, year old girl lying on a hospital bed in hospital clothes and her long brown hair splayed out on the pillow. This Other-Abby was lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines with a tube in her mouth. Abby looked down at her hands, nope, she wasn't see-through or anything. Abby crept closer. Yep, the girl on the bed was definitely the girl Abby saw staring back at her in the mirror. This version of Abby was paler, though, she looked almost dead. Her whole face was scratched up too, and there were bandages all over her arms. She almost looked smaller, more frail, than Abby thought she was.

~

Abby was sitting on one of the plastic chairs in her room. It was uncomfortable, and the room was cold enough there were goosebumps covering her arms. The real her, not the one lying in the hospital bed. Her logic for staying was that she could get lost if she kept looking around the hospital, but Sam and Dean always find her, so surely they would again this time, except they couldn't the real Abby so they would find the other Abby. Her back was towards the window in the room, looking down on an empty parking lot, so she could watch people pass by the open door and windows looking into the hallway opposite her. Nurses upon nurses and doctors and patients had passed by, but no familiar faces.

Abby was starting to get anxious. She wanted to go back to how things were just a few hours ago, when yes, Dad had been missing, and then he wasn't himself, but at least Abby wasn't alone.

Then Abby saw a familiar flash of brown in the window. The exact tan color of Sam's jacket, the one with the slightly rough material that was a little too warm for July, but Sam wore anyway. Abby lifted her head up from her knees as Sam walked into the room.

"Sammy," Abby smiled for the first time.

Sam stared at the Abby lying in the hospital bed. He didn't respond to the real Abby. He looked like shit, with a beat-up face and plenty of scratches. He also looked like he was about to cry.

"Oh, no." Sam half whispered, not moving his eyes from the small form of the girl in the hospital bed.

"Sammy?" Sam just kept staring down at the fake Abby.

"Sammy, can you hear me?" Abby asked. The nurse could have been just ignoring her, but Abby knew Sam. He wouldn't ignore her, not right now and not ever.

As Sam looked down at Abby, the real Abby realized a few things. Most importantly, the Abby on the hospital bed was also the real Abby. She must've been trapped in some in-between, not quite dead and not quite alive. Second, if anyone in the whole world was going to be able to hear her it was Sammy, with his sometimes a little scary powers. He could see into the future, so maybe he could see her, she figured.

"Sammy, please. Please hear me, please see me." Abby stood up, standing on the other side of the bed to Sam. "Sam come on. Please." Her eyes were starting to fill with tears and Abby wiped them away. Now was not the time to cry, Abby had things to do. She had to make sure Dean and Dad were okay too, but first Sam had to know she was there, that she wasn't just the girl lying on the bed.

"Your father's awake." Abby jumped at the man now standing at the doorway. A doctor, based on his coat and the authority he spoke with. "You can go see him if you like. Your brother will be soon as well."

Abby breathed out a sigh of relief. Sam, Dean, and Dad were okay. They were okay, and everything was okay. Abby looked back at Sam, hopeful for his reaction to mirror his. Sam's sad expression had not left his face.

"Doc, what about my sister?"

"Well, she sustained serious injury- blood loss, contusions to her lungs and other organs. But it's the head trauma I'm worried about. There's early signs of cerebral edema. Especially in a child of her age, her body and brain aren't developed enough to bounce back as fast and a little damage can cause a lot of harm."

"Well, what can we do?" Sam asked.

"Well, we won't know her full condition until she wakes up." Abby bit the inside of her cheek and crossed her arms, hugging herself. "If she wakes up."

"If?" Sam turned to face the doctor, Abby did as well. What did he mean, if? Abby was going to wake up. She couldn't die.

"I have to be honest, most children with her degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. She fighting extraordinarily hard. But you need to have realistic expectations, son."

Abby was drowning again. It felt like every time she pulled herself out of the water or even surfaced for air, something ragged her back under.

~

Harvey by Alex G

"He doesn't understand what big boys do / He wakes up in the middle of the night / I run in and turn on the light / Run my hands through his short black hair / I love you, Harvey, I don't care" ( for the best interpretation think metaphorical middle of the night and turning on the light <3 )

Dad had been sure, so sure, of who the werewolf was. But when they had gotten there, the werewolf had been nowhere to be found. Since it was a full moon, Dad said they needed to find him as quickly as possible– the sun was setting. Otherwise, he could kill someone.

They had left Sam in the hotel with Abby. Abby was only four, but Sam was sixteen and old enough to handle himself and her, Dad had decided. Dean didn't necessarily disagree; when he was Sam's age he had taken care of a baby Abby and 12-year-old Sam for hours, sometimes days in hotel rooms after Mom died.

But Dad had no idea how to find the werewolf; it wasn't like he and Dean could just go into the nearest woods and make some howling noises and it would come bounding up, this wasn't a fairytale. So, standing outside a finance major's apartment turned werewolf den, Dean called his little brother. The phone rang once, twice, three times, and then just kept ringing until Dean got sent to voicemail. That was weird. Sure, sometimes Sam might get distracted and leave his phone in the other room but he would never do that when he was watching Abby, Sam was too much of a worrier.

Dean stuck his head around the corner into the apartment. Dad was shifting through the mess the werewolf had made with its transformation, trying to find an obvious clue of where he would go. "Hey, Dad." Even though Dean tried to keep his voice calm, his nerves must have been evident.

"What's wrong?" Dad was on alert. He got like this during hunts. Jumpy and a little too ready to fight.

"Sam's not picking up."

"Get in the car." Dad's voice was harsh and fast.

"Yes, sir," Dean said, following orders immediately.

The ride to the motel was tense, Dad's hands gripped tightly on the wheel the whole ride.

When they pulled up to it, Dad didn't even bother parking in a spot, just stopped the car in front of the door to their motel room and got out. Dean vaguely noted the lights were off which just added to the offput feeling in his chest. Dad banged on the door and when Sam didn't immediately answer, he threw his shoulder against it and the door flew inwards, broken open.

Once the door was open, Dean could hear the noises he now realized had been coming from inside as Dad rushed towards them. Dean was hot on Dad's heels as he ran through the motel room and turned the corner to where the sounds had been coming from: the kitchen.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness and Dean recognized the scene in front of him, Dean realized the sound had been crashing and panicked, fast breaths and groans.

Sam was slumped over on the ground in front of the cabinets. He was slowly coming to, Dean could tell, with a little bit of blood running down the side of his face, but it seemed like he would be fine based on his groans. The door he was next to, a back door to the motel Dean had completely forgotten existed since most don't have them, was fractured into pieces. It seemed like Sam had been thrown against the cabinet when he was trying to keep someone or something out of the room.

Having taken in this part of the scene Dean moved on to the more horrifying part that made him sick to his stomach. A creature Dean couldn't see much of was lying, clearly dead, on the floor. The cause of death was likely the wounds slashed across its face and smaller, but deeper, puncture wounds on his chest, only three and not precise enough to be planned.

The cause of the injury was the switchblade Sam kept on his nightstand, now dripping with deep red blood as Dad slowly pried it out of Abby's hands. Her long-sleeve shirt and jeans that Dean had picked out for her that morning had more blood on them than Dean ever wanted to see on his baby sister's clothing. There was blood all over her face, too, and some in her hair. Her face was blank, staring at the body and her chest heaving but the sounds coming from her sounded like somewhere between a sob and a wheeze.

Dean was shocked that a little girl like Abby could even do the kind of damage that had been done to it, but adrenaline and training could make anything possible, he guessed. Dean watched, unable to move as Dad set the switchblade on the counter and picked Abby up, setting her on it too. Abby kept looking at the body, her chest heaving. Dean wasn't sure if she was actually breathing though, even in the dark he could see how pale she was.

"Abby, baby, look at me." Dad's voice was somewhere between gruff and soft, not quite either as he grabbed Abby's face, forcing her to face him instead of the creature.

"Is any of this blood yours?" Abby shook her head.

"Okay. Did you get bitten, scratched, anything?" Abby shook her head again.

Dad nodded firmly, then turned to Dean.

"Dean, help your brother up and take your siblings out," Dad ordered.

Dean nodded, his body no longer frozen. He pulled Sam off the floor, and made sure he was fine for standing on his own. Then picked Abby up off the counter. She seemed to have slowed her breathing. Dean, almost working on instinct alone with his mind blank and too full at the same time, walked out the door of the motel and back into the evening light. In the sun, Dean could see that his teenage brother looked like he had gotten into a hell of an alley fight, but since Sam's eyes always did look a little wild and both of the brothers carried themselves like dogs who had been kicked one too many times, Dean figured it just added to the look.

Abby hadn't quite gained that rabid look yet, so the blood speckled across her face and almost soaking through her shirt made her look like a walking corpse. Sitting in front of the siblings as they entered into the sunlight, though, almost as if it was waiting, was the Impala. So, Dean, wanting to get as far from the room as he could, grabbed a makeshift first aid kit from under the passenger seat and handed it to Sam before going to the trunk and grabbing a new shirt for Abby.

That'd have to do, he decided, since if he stayed this close to the room for any longer he was going to crawl out of his skin. The silence plaguing his siblings hadn't gone unnoticed to Dean, but in his head the inner monologue going strong, and in seventeen directions at once, filled their silence. So, Dean shut the car door behind him and held on to Abby's hand, checking behind him once to make sure Sam was following. He was.

Dean headed towards where he had a vague recollection of a gas station that looked sketchy enough the cashier wouldn't gonna call CPS on him. Still, when Dean saw someone else, a jogger in her 30s, coming their way on the other side of the desolate street, he picked up Abby and tucked her blood-speckled face into his collar, and angled her so her bloody shirt was pressed against his leather jacket.

Dean sat Abby on the toilet with the lid closed as he wiped the blood off her face. She seemed to be calmer now, less close to having a serious freak-out. Still quiet, but that was how Abby always was. Sam was cleaning and bandaging his own face off standing at the sink mirror, but Abby was still much too young for that so Dean knelt in front of her, carefully sponging the flecks of now-dried blood off her cheeks with wet toilet paper. Not the most glamorous, by any means, but it did the job, and right now, they just needed it done.

Once her face was clean and her clothes changed into clean ones, Dean handed her a brush to untangle her hair while he checked to make sure Sam bandaged his face well– Sam would always get his hair stuck in the bandages on his face and they would always come off quickly.

When they finally left the bathroom, all cleaned up, Dean carried Abby because he was too worried about her to let her walk around by herself, and, though he'd never admit it, it made him feel better too. He sat with Abby next to him on the curb outside of the gas station while Sam bought a Coke and whatever else he could get with the ten-dollar bill Dean had handed to him.

Dean still wasn't sure exactly what had happened with the werewolf. He had put the important pieces together, but at the end of the day, all that really mattered was this: the werewolf was dead and Sam and Abby would be okay. Probably.

~

Abby walked next to Sam as he followed the doctor to Dad's room. Sam had been reluctant to leave Abby's room, she could tell, but he had done so anyway. When Sam had told Dad that Abby was in bad condition, that she was an 'if' not a 'then,' all Dad had done was nod firmly and make a determined, set face. It made Abby more confident, in a way. Dad wasn't concerned, so neither should she be.

Sam still had a forced half smile on his face from the outlandish name of Dad's insurance card, when Dad asked. "So... what else did the doctor say about Abby?"

"Nothing." Sam shook his head.

Abby kicked the back of her foot against the wall she was leaning on. Her right leg was still sore, the throbbing pain hadn't gone away and she had a killer headache.

"Look, if the doctors won't do anything, then we'll have to– that's all. I don't know, Dean and I'll find some hoodoo priest and lay some mojo on him."

"We'll look for someone," Dad assured Sam, and even if he didn't know it, it assured Abby as well. There was something so comforting about how sure Dad was.

"Yeah," Sam said softly nodding and not meeting Dad's eyes.

"But, Sam... I don't know if we're gonna find anyone." Dad's voice was filled with sorry.

"Why not? I found that faith healer before." Abby nodded along unseen. Sam was right, he had saved Dean and they would save Abby.

"That was one in a million."

"So what? We just sit here with our thumbs up our ass?"

"No, I said we'd look." Dad paused. "All right? I'll check under every stone." Abby let out a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay, okay, okay.

"Where's the Colt?" Dad asked after a brief silence.

"Your daughter is dying, and you're worried about the Colt." Sam's voice was harsh and full of unending disbelief.

"We are hunting this demon, and maybe it's hunting us, too." Dad was right, Abby knew that much. But still, it made her stomach feel a little sick. "That gun may be our only card."

"It's in the trunk. They dragged the car to a yard off of I-83." Sam conceded.

"All right, you got to clean out that trunk before some junk man sees what's inside." Abby stared down at her feet. There were plain white socks on her feet. That was weird, usually the ones she wore had some pattern or color on them. They must be from the hospital, she guessed.

"I already called Bobby. He's like an hour out." Abby looked up. The idea of Bobby helping gave Abby even more hope. That was what she was going to focus on, she decided. Looking on the bright side or whatever. "He's gonna tow the Impala back to his place."

Before John could respond, though, someone walked right by Abby through the doorway of the room.

"Dean-" Sam stood up from where he had been sitting at Dad's side. "You're up."

"Yeah, and feeling not that shitty." Dean looked around the room as he spoke absentmindedly. "Where's Abby?"

"You haven't talked to the doctors?" Sam asked.

"Once they decided I was fit enough to walk around by myself they just pointed me in this direction to Dad's room. Abby up yet?" Dean was still looking around the room as if Abby was hiding in some dark corner and was going to pop out at any second.

Abby could've walked around Dad's bed so she could see Dean's face, but right now she wasn't sure if she wanted to. It hurt enough seeing how sad Sam seemed about Abby being hurt. So Abby stayed with only a view of Dean's back.

"Dean, Abby's not up yet," Dad said, slowly. Abby watched the back of Dean's head as he looked at Dad, and then Sam. Sam was looking down, his hair flopping in front of his face and mostly obscuring it.

"Well, when is she gonna be up?" Dean's voice was tinged with nervousness and a dawning realization.

"The doctor said it's not an if, but a when," Sam said, not looking Dean in the eye.

Abby watched as Dean's back visibly tensed. She could see his hands start to shake by his sides as he clenched and unclenched his fists and took big breaths of air that made his shoulders rise.

"Well, what are we doing standing around? We gotta do something." Dean said tensely. Sam looked at Dad expectantly.

"You two go meet up with Bobby. You get that Colt from the Impala and you bring it back to me. And watch out for hospital security."

"I think we got it covered," Dean said confidently, with a slight smirk on his face that Abby could hear in his voice. She felt less nervous, less scared, seeing how confident Dean was that everything would turn out alright.

Just before Sam and Dean walked out of the room, Dad said "Hey," and they turned back.

"Here." Dad handed a paper to Sam. "I made a list of things I need. Have Bobby pick them up for me."

Abby tried to stand next to Sam and go on her toes to read the list, but he was holding it up too high. "Acacia?" Sam asked. "Oil of Abramelin? What's this stuff for?"

"Protection," Dad responded.

Dean nodded and walked into the hall, and Sam followed before stopping just as he was crossing the threshold. "Hey Dad... you know the demon, he said he had plans for me and children like me. You have any idea what he meant by that?"

"No, I don't." Sam walked out of the room, nodding. Abby watched Dad's face as Sam walked away, though. It changed, he looked away and had a look on his face she couldn't quite place. Almost like what Sam and Dean looked like back when Abby would ask where Dad was, almost a year ago.

Abby turned and followed her brothers out, walking quickly to catch up with them. She wasn't going to leave the hospital, she wasn't sure how this whole spirit thing worked and didn't want to risk it, but she was happy to go with them as far as she could. To her surprise, though, they stopped in a room before heading to the exit: Abby's room.

Sam lingered in the doorway and Abby stayed by him, unbeknownst to her brothers, as Dean walked slowly towards his baby sister. The one he could see, at least. Abby watched as Dean bent down by her side, carefully moving her hair out of her face.

"You're gonna be okay. I promise." Dean said quietly.

Abby crossed her arms and looked down at her feet, her eyes starting to burn.

Dean knelt there for what felt like a long time to Abby, just watching the other Abby breathe through a machine.

Sam shifted his weight back and forth, and Abby wasn't sure if he was looking at Dean or Abby. Finally, Dean took a deep breath, like he did before a tough talk, and stood up. He reached behind his neck and took off his necklace. Abby had never seen him without it, she didn't think. He put it on the table next to Abby, then bent down and kissed her forehead, before nodding to Sam. Sam walked out of the room and Dean followed, turning back once.

Abby watched them walk away from outside her room through blurry vision. Her whole body was filled with longing: longing for a hug from her brothers, to be able to talk to them, ask them questions. In a hallway full of people she felt utterly, completely alone.

~

I Guess by Mitski (this one is a STRONG correlation)

"I guess, I guess, I guess this is the end / I'll have to learn to be somebody else / It's been you and me since before I was me / Without you, I don't yet know quite how to live"

Sam had been planning this night for months since he got that Stanford acceptance letter. So, he laid still on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he waited until he heard Abby, then Dean, and finally John's breathing slow. When he was younger, this would've been impossible. Waiting that long, just sitting in the dark? The nervous energy that filled his chest now let him stay still and just think, his mind reaching years and years back to his childhood and now years into his future.

Sam Winchester was getting out. And maybe, someday, he'd come back and get Abby out too. When the neon red numbers next to him finally read 2:00, Sam slowly, carefully stood up. He grabbed his duffel bag with precise, silent movements. He was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, but changing into jeans would make too much noise so he'd have to do it at the bus station. One of the nice 24-hour ones that was an actual building stood just a few blocks North. There was a bus leaving at 3:00, and by the time anyone woke up, he would be too far away to stop.

Sam paused, holding the door open, and looked back. The colored lights outside seeped past his silhouette and illuminated Dean, sleeping like a bear next to Abby who was sleeping peacefully, her back moving up and down, up and down. Sam remembered laying next to her in bed when she was younger, before she could walk or talk, and watching her breathe at night, fueled by his incessant fear that one day he would wake up and her chest would be still.

Sam turned and walked out the door. If he didn't leave, someday that might be a reality. Dad would throw himself in over his head and he would get Abby and Dean killed. But if Sam could start a normal life, he could save Abby. Maybe.

Sam had only reached two doors down, not even 20 feet. when he heard a door open behind him. He kept going, figuring it was just someone doing whatever people do at 2am.

"Sammy?" A small voice said from behind him. Sam turned around.

Abby was standing outside of the motel room door which was shut behind her. The braids Sam had done in her hair before bed were messy, and she was holding her stuffed bear in one hand.

"Where are you going?" Abby looked at Sam with big, brown eyes full of trust.

"Uh..." Sam wasn't sure how to answer. He stayed standing, resisting the urge to run back to Abby, tuck her into bed, and watch her back move until the sun came back. "I'll be back, I promise," Sam said, trying to manage a comforting smile that would help his authenticity.

Before either of them could say anything, the door to the motel room opened again. Sam briefly thought it was good it opened inwards, or it would have hit Abby.

"What the hell are you doing out here," Dean said towards Abby, rubbing his eyes and his voice gruff from sleep. Abby motioned towards Sam and Sam had no choice but to stand there awkwardly as Dean looked over at him. The disappointment and lack of surprise in Dean's face made Sam want to wither away.

"Where?" was all Dean asked, his face as devoid of emotion as he could make it. Sam could see that he was trying desperately to hold it together for the sake of the little girl next to him, eyes bouncing between her brothers.

"Stanford."

There was a moment of silence before Abby chimed in.

"Where's Stanford?"

"What, you're just gonna never come back?" Dean asked Sam. He was pissed.

"I get into f'ing Stanford and all you want to know is if I'm gonna come back." Sam scoffed. He couldn't help himself. This was typical Dean, he was his father's son in more ways than he cared to admit.

"Leaving in the middle of the night- sure seems like you weren't making any promises."

"Y'know what Dean, you could come find me if you really need me that bad. In case you weren't aware, you aren't a kid anymore either. You could leave, get a job, go to college, whatever."

Dean acted like this was preposterous, out of the question. "Yeah, well then what about Abby?"

"So you admit that Dad can't take care of Abby on his own."

A moment of silence as Dean clenches his teeth but doesn't respond.

"Dean, I have to do this. This might be my only opportunity to really get out- get away."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Dean said, shaking his head. It was like the fight he had been brimming with seconds ago had left his body as he had realized the inevitable.

"C'mon Abby." Dean picked Abby up, holding her weight on his hip. Soon, she was going to be too old for that, Sam realized. If he saw her again- when he saw her again, she would be taller, older.

"When's Sammy gonna come back?" Abby asked Dean, her bottom lip wobbling and eyes filling with tears.

"That's up to him," Dean said finally as he turned and opened the door. As Dean turned the knob, for just a second, Abby looked into Sam's eyes and Sam was too afraid to move. If he moved a muscle, he would give in to every instinct to follow Dean back into the hotel room, pretending none of this happened.

Tomorrow Sam would wake up, and Dad would make shitty coffee, and Dean pancakes which Abby would eat, sitting at the table and slurping orange juice. They would all pile into the Impala and Abby would sit in the backseat next to Sam and read a book, which she would tell him all about. Sam would listen and sunlight would stream in through the windows and everything would be warm and okay.

The door closed behind Dean and Abby.

~

The sound of the machines' beeping had faded into the background. Abby hadn't left her room, even as Dad walked in and sat across from her. Well, the fake Abby. However, that Abby sure seemed a lot more real than the one watching Dad. The dying Abby would be more accurate.

The dying Abby's machines were beeping steadily. Abby thought that was good, it meant her blood was still pumping and her lungs were still breathing.

Dad just watched the dying Abby lie there. The look on his face hadn't left. Abby had placed what it was after almost an hour of staring at it: guilt. It was subtle and well-disguised but still, the guilt shone through the cracks as Dad watched.

Abby decided he must be guilty over not being able to help her. That would make the most sense, she decided. He felt bad that all he could do was sit there, he felt bad that there was a chance this was the end.

Abby wanted to be mad. She knew Dean would be, Sam too. She just didn't understand why Dad wouldn't do anything. She'd heard the doctor tell Dad that he was almost all fine; it wasn't injuries keeping him actionless. It felt unfair, unjust. Abby had done everything Dad had ever asked of her. She killed the vampire in the forest. She stayed with Dean, she kept quiet. She followed every order. The only thing she hadn't done was shoot Dad in that cabin when he asked her.

Then, it clicked. Dad was upset with Abby, and that's why he wasn't helping her. He was upset that she hadn't been able to shoot then, and that by the time Sam did, the demon had escaped. That was why he couldn't save her; because she wasn't strong enough. Dad had to be logical, Abby knew that. He couldn't waste precious resources on saving a kid who couldn't follow a simple order.

But he felt bad about that. That was why he was a good father, Abby knew that much. Because when he had to make the tough calls, he did, but he still didn't enjoy it.

~

Eventually, Dad went back to his room. Abby followed him. She didn't know what else to do. It was weird, she didn't really have anything to do. No orders to follow, no secrets to keep from anyone.

When Sam and Dean came back from Bobby's, their faces were set in fury. Not the kind that snaps quickly and dies out, but the kind that grows inside you for a long, long time until someone points it out, and you realize your whole chest has been burnt up.

"You're quiet," Dad said as they entered, walking stiffly. Sam was carrying a bag, Abby assumed it had what was in the Impala and maybe what Dad asked for, too. Dean's hands were stuffed in his leather jacket, which seemed to have survived the crash.

"You think we wouldn't find out?" Dean said, low and harsh, looking dead into Dad's eyes. The energy in the room was charged with something low and deadly. Sam stood, tense, looking out the window. It was like he couldn't even bear to look at Dad.

"What are you talking about?" Dad asked, unconcerned.

"That stuff from Bobby, you don't use it to ward off a demon– you use it to summon one." Abby's mouth fell open at Dean's words, and she didn't bother to close it without Sam or Dean telling her to.

"You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown." Sam added yelling, walking over to also stand over Dad's bed. Now, Dad was surrounded by his children: Abby standing unseen on his right, Sam and Dean in front and to the left of him, facing Abby and Dad.

"I have a plan," Dad said. He sounded tired, almost bored.

"That's exactly the point," Dean yelled. This was angrier than Abby had ever seen him, she thought. Maybe he got angry at monsters like this, but Abby usually wasn't there for that. It made Abby want to curl up into a ball and make everything go magically back to normal.

"Abby is dying, and you have a plan! Y'know what, you care about killing this demon than you do saving your own daughter!" A daughter who disappointed him. A daughter who put a bullet in his leg but failed to put one in his head when it mattered most.

"Do not tell me how I feel. I am doing this for Abby." Dad's voice was loud and firm.

"How?" Sam asked. "How is revenge gonna help her? You're not thinking about anybody but yourself. It's the same selfish obsession."

Abby closed her eyes and crossed her arms. She wanted to get out, out, out of this place, this situation, this body that couldn't even do anything.

"That's funny, y'know what, I thought this was your obsession, too. This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of this hunt." Abby was drowning again, weighed down by every word her family said. "Now, if Abby had killed that damn thing when she had the chance, none of this would've happened."

"Goddamnit, Dad, she's nine! If she had shot you, she would've spent the rest of her life knowing she had killed her father too! You can't ask a fucking nine-year-old to shoot her dad and expect her to do it." Sam bellowed back.

"I trained Abby to do what she needs to," Dad said firmly. "She could have if she wanted to, and she would be fine. She always is."

"Are you insane? Always fine? Dad, Abby is on the edge of a nervous breakdown the second she thinks one of us might be mad at us. She's so focused on learning to hunt, she's barely even a kid anymore." Dean yelled. Abby didn't even know who was what anymore, she just wanted them to stop yelling.

"And she'll be a damn good hunter for it!"

Abby felt like she was going to explode with all her pent-up frustration and anger at this. This fucking hospital, this stupid dragonfly shirt that was suddenly so itchy, this stupid argument that didn't mean anything.

"If she wakes up." Dean said, no longer yelling.

Sam scoffed and turned away from Dad. "Go to hell." He said, quieter.

"I never should have taken you all along in the first place, I knew it was a mistake."

"Shut up!" Abby yelled. No one heard, and Sam retorted something back to Dad.

"Shut up!" She screamed again, kicking Dad's bed. It moved just a little, and the glass that had been on the table attached to it fell to the ground and shattered. All four Winchesters stared at the broken glass, Abby's chest heaving.

Then suddenly, something deep inside Abby felt wrong. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong.

Abby bent over, her hand pressing against her chest instinctively. Something was wrong, there was a hurt in her chest, so deep she almost couldn't feel it. Faintly, Abby could hear the voices of nurses and doctors yelling and rushing outside. All she could see was flashes of her brother's looking confused and her father's hospital bed.

"Something's going on out there." Dad's voice rang loudly in Abby's head.

Sam and Dean rushed out to the hallway. Abby stumbled after them. There was no more pressure or hurt, just a deep feeling that something was happening, something was dying, dead.

As Abby reached where Sam and Dean were standing, she found out who was dying.

She was. The line of the monitor was flat and there was a nurse putting metal pads on Abby's chest. "Still no pulse." Abby could hear her say over the commotion in her head.

It didn't work that time either. Abby felt like there was darkness pressing in one every side of her. There was something floating above her. It looked like a bad CGI ghost from a movie, a glowy outline of a human-shaped thing. Abby stumbled toward it.

"No, don't make me die like this!" She yelled and grabbed it with all her might. She wouldn't die in some stupid hospital after having failed her family. It just threw her against the wall, her head banging backward. Then, the thing turned and looked at Abby for just a second and Abby could make out its long hair and black eyes, not like a demon but more like their eyes and everything around it had decayed.

Then, the thing floated out of the room. Abby whipped her head back to her own body. "We have a pulse, we're back into sinus rhythm." The nurse said and Abby could feel the tension leaking out of Sam and Dean's bodies.

Abby wished she could tell Sam and Dean that she was trying to stay alive, she was trying so, so hard. Dad couldn't do anything to save her because that would be a waste of precious time, but right now, Abby could do nothing but try and live. So, Abby decided to stay with her body until she woke up. That way, if that thing came back, Abby would be better prepared. As the nurses began clearing out the room, Abby went and sat in a chair in the corner of the room; she would have a good view of her brothers, wherever they were in the room, and could see the hallway outside.

Sam and Dean sat with Abby until night came. As the sun came down, the golden light illuminated the bruises on their faces. It also made the bruises on Abby's show up more clearly. Abby could see now how scratched up her face was. It was pretty bad, worse than when Meg had made her need stitches. The tube going down Abby's throat and various other tubes connected to her certainly didn't help. It was strange, a true out-of-body experience to see yourself like another person.

~

Eventually, Sam left. He briefly explained his plan in a hushed voice to Dean before he did. He was relatively sure that it was Abby's spirit that had knocked over the glass, and he swore that he felt a presence when Abby was coding– that meant when Abby was dying. So, he was going to find a way to communicate with her.

Dad was still in his hospital room, so it left Abby and Dean. Dean was seated next to Abby's bed. Abby was pretty sure if he got a choice, he was planning to sleep there too. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest in the uncomfortable plastic chair as Dean watched the dying version of her. Every now and then, he would murmur something affirmative, promising that Abby was going to get better. They made Abby feel a little better, and made her want to survive more if nothing else.

He whispered to her "You've got angels watchin' over you, Abs." Which filled Abby with a lot of safety. It was what Dean had told her as she fell asleep her whole childhood. Dean continued, in a voice so quiet she half believed she made it up, "-much better ones than I ever was."

~

Halloween by Phoebe Bridgers

"I hate living by the hospital / The sirens go all night / I used to joke that if they woke you up / Somebody better be dying... We can be anything / Whatever you want / I'll be whatever you want"

Dean was searching through yet another niche corner of the internet on yet another Monday night. The only marker that time was passing seemed to be Abby progressing through her book and the beer in Dad's bottle lowering again and again as the bottles collected next to him.

Dean followed Dad with his eyes as he got up and headed to the small fridge and opened it.

"Hey, Dad, I think we're gonna have an early morning tomorrow." Dean tried to keep the silent plea out of his voice and sound casual.

Dad just nodded and sat back down in his chair, Dean's gaze following him. Dean watched Abby look up from her book and see the beer in John's hand he set next to the two already empty bottles. Abby moved away from Dad, just a little, and curled up even smaller.

Dean went back to research, but the silence except for turning pages and the clicking of keys was almost too much for him to bear.

"Gonna go get some fresh air," Dad said, getting up and heading out the back door. Dean knew that really meant he was going to go smoke.

Practically the second the door shut behind Dad, Dean got up and walked over to Abby, sitting down next to her.

"Do you wanna go for a ride?" Dean whispered conspiratorially in her ear, keeping his voice lighthearted. Abby looked up at him and grinned, nodding her head vigorously.

"Yes, please," she said sweetly. Dean grabbed her hand and they walked to the car, Dean looking around. Dark parking lots with a six-year-old by his side always made him nervous. Abby sat in the backseat on the passenger side, in her car seat since she was still too young to go without.

It had been weird for a while to drive around with no Sam, but after a few months Sam almost felt like a distant, very painful, memory, only thought about in dark hotel rooms late at night, and when Abby asked Dean a question he couldn't answer, but he knew Sam would've been able to answer perfectly.

Dean just drove for at least 15 minutes, the music turned down enough that Abby would be able to sleep if she wanted to. When Dean was younger, just 17, he would drive Abby around random towns to put her to sleep with Dad got a little too drunk thinking about Mom. Dean understood, when he thought about how Abby would never know her kind, wonderful mother, Dean wanted to drown himself in a bottle too.

But someone had to be there to put Abby in the car. Dean knew what came after Dad had too many beers and smoked some, to help the alcohol settle; he got mad. The kind of scary mad that made Dean, even at 23 with a knife in his pocket, jump and crawl out of his skin.

They pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour diner.

"What are we doing here?" Abby asked, sitting forward to get a look at the diner.

"Did Dad feed you while I was at the library?" Dean asked. He couldn't remember any dishes in the sink or takeout containers in the trash when he'd gotten back.

"Think he forgot." Abby bit her lip. "But it's okay, I'm not hungry."

"Mhm. C'mon, I'll get you pancakes and a milkshake." Dean got out of the car and opened the door for Abby.

"Okay!" Abby bounded out, grinning at the prospect of a full stomach and a milkshake.

Dean chuckled as he followed her into the diner. It's amazing how fast kids bounce back.

~

When Sam returned, the bruise on his cheek had grown to a dark purple. Dean was asleep, his head resting next to Abby on her bed, his hand holding hers.

"Hey." Sam started quietly so as to not wake Dean. "I think maybe you're around, and if you are, don't make fun of me for this, but, um..." Abby sat forward, "but there's one way we can talk." Abby's eyebrows shot up to her hairline when Sam pulled an Ouija board out of the brown paper bag.

"You're kidding." She said quietly as he pulled it out and put it on the floor. The noise of Sam setting it down must have woken Dean because he jolted forward before readjusting to the environment.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean asked.

"If Abby's around, this way we can talk to her." Dean closed his eyes like he was gathering all his patience so as to not immediately dismiss Sam. Nonetheless, he came and sat next to Sam on the floor with only a sigh.

As Sam pulled the wooden board out of the box, the comedic potential of two men, fully adults who hunt monsters for a living, sitting criss-cross on the floor using an Ouija board would have been much funnier if it wasn't for the semi-lifeless body in the hospital bed in the same room, as well as the adjacent ghost-spirit. Abby sat down across from Sam and Dean, crossing her legs.

"God, this is like a slumber party," Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes and so did Abby. "Abby, are you uh... here?" Sam asked, clearly unsure of the wording he wanted to use. He put his hands on the triangular shape with a hole in the center and so did Dean. Abby rested the tips of her finger on it. She had no expectations of it actually moving; this wasn't a TV show.

But, when Abby moved her hands to make the circle highlight the 'Yes' option, the triangular shape also moved with it. Sam's mouth fell open and Abby saw Dean's eyes get big. Abby grinned, full of pride.

"Holy shit," Abby said out loud.

Dean choked out a laugh, leaning his head down like he did when he talked about Mom. Sam just half laughed and said, "It's good to hear from you, Abs. It hasn't been the same without you." Well, duh, I know, I've been here, Abby thought to herself.

Abby knew she didn't have long, this was only a short window when she could communicate with Sam and Dean- they weren't going to sit in front an Ouija board like 12-year-olds forever. So, biting the inside of her cheek, Abby started to move the wooden piece again, this time spelling out three words.

Sam said the letters out loud as Abby moved the piece.

"W-I-L-L-I-D-I-E"

Sam and Dean stared at the wooden piece for a second, still circling the E, as Abby looked up at her brothers' faces, trying to read them.

Sam looked at Dean and didn't look towards where Abby was sitting, even though he would just see a blank wall.

"No. You're not gonna die." Dean said finally. He stood up and Sam watched him, getting up after him and packing the board back in its box. Abby didn't miss the way Dean's voice had quivered, just a little, at the end.

Sam and Dean left the room, and Abby watched them go. She didn't want to leave; she felt more tired than before. Her leg was killing her, no pun intended, and every time she stood she felt like she was slipping back down.

Eventually, after not that long, Sam and Dean came back in. "Dad wasn't in his room, but he left a note." Sam started, looking around the room awkwardly.

"He said he had a way to help you, and that we shouldn't worry," Dean said. His voice was more sure than before. Dad had a way to help Abby, and Dean believed it, Abby knew that much, which just had to mean that it was all going to be okay. Abby took deep breaths like Dean would tell her to do when she got really upset about something.

"So... uh... so you just gotta hold on until Dad's done, okay?" Sam said, now looking down at the Abby in the hospital bed. Looking at her too, Abby thought that her face was just a little whiter than before.

"Yeah, if you leave me with just Sam and Dad, they'll kill each other and me with 'em." Dean tried to joke. It didn't really land. "So just, just keep fighting, okay Abs? Just don't give up, not yet. We're gonna get you back, we are." Dean's hand was resting next to Abby's head, stroking her hair. Abby wasn't sure if Dean even knew he was doing it.

"You, you can't go. Not now, not ever." Abby smiled a little at the last part, Sam's unrealistic ask made everything feel a little more normal, somehow. "I mean, I've still got to finish making up those three years." Sam messed with something in his hand.

Abby wasn't sure how long he'd been holding it, but it was a red friendship bracelet. Frayed, like it had been worn for years straight, but still as bright red as the day Abby had given it to him. If Abby had been really, fully there at that moment, she would have given Sam a big hug around his midsection (she couldn't reach any higher) which would have made Sam let out a surprised laugh. Abby tucked that thought away for after she woke up, which she would. She was going to wake up, she had decided.

Sam and Dean took their seats in the plastic chairs next to Abby's bed. Abby sat on the floor, her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest, next to them. If Dean had known she was right next to him, Abby thought he might have reached out a hand to put on the back of her head. A little comfort, a way of making sure she was still there. Abby half drifted off, imagining the comforting weight on the back of her head as a symbol of safety.

~

Sorry by Alex G (this song is also just Sam and Abby pre- and early season one in general)

"I'll get my cure, wait in the car / I won't remember who are / I look at you and feel the same / Could you forgive me for that pain?"

"Hey, don't worry about it, I've got it." Sam quickly said when Jess tried to reach for the last box in the trunk of his car.

"Sam. You are carrying three boxes already, and I'm carrying one."

"Well, I'm the man of the house- well, dorm." Sam reached around her and added it to his pile before she could. She rolled her eyes and followed him inside.

When Sam stopped for breath on the second-floor landing with another floor together, Jess half laughed and commented "What's even in that box anyways that I can't touch. Kryptonite?"

Sam laughed and picked up the boxes again.

"I don't think my arms are ever going to recover from this."

"Okay, pretty boy." Jess laughed from behind him

A few hours later, Sam was sitting on the floor of their new dorm room. The afternoon sun was streaming through the windows, turning everything golden as he unpacked. Jess was showering, Sam could hear her humming in the shower.

Glancing up to make sure the door was tightly closed, Sam opened the box he'd carried upstairs hours earlier. When Jess had offered to carry it, Sam thought he was going to have a heart attack. Sure, if she had looked in the box there wasn't a piece of paper on top that said: "Sam Winchester hunts monsters." But it still would have been hard to explain the multiple knives and various supernatural hunting weaponry. Oh, and the brown-haired little girl next to Sam in almost every picture. Sitting next to him on the beach, squished beside him in a diner, sleeping on his lap in the Impala- this would all come off as strange since Sam didn't have a sister, at least not one Jess was aware of.

Sam had never been sure why he didn't tell Jess about Abby. At first, it was because it just hurt too much. Maybe also because he could tell normal stories about Dean: going trick or treating with him as a kid, going to Dean's baseball games as a kid, normal sibling stuff. But all of his stories of Abby were intertwined with the common thread of hunting. That time Sam realized she had been stealing books from public libraries made more sense if you knew they never went to one twice. The story about Abby going by Cassie for two weeks in pre-k before Sam and Dean realized only made sense if you knew she never went to the same school for more than a few weeks.

But also, Sam just didn't want to talk about her. Dean was simple; he left Dean because Dean wanted to keep hunting and he didn't. Abby was so much more complicated. Sam had dreams about her almost every week. The second week at Stanford, he'd almost had a heart attack when he saw a little girl with long brown hair from across the street. It had been a stranger, though.

Whatever the case, what Sam really didn't want Jess to see was the stack of letters in the box. Each addressed "Dear Abby," they had started as a way for Sam to show Abby how great life could be outside of hunting. Sam was going to send them when Abby got older; maybe when she was 16 or 17. Old enough to not follow John and Dean around like a lost puppy anymore.

Sam shoved the lid back on the box, and put it under their bed, shoving it way back. Out of sight, out of mind, he told himself.

~

It was hard to say what woke Abby up. Likely, it was the jolt of pain, starting at her heart and spreading to the rest of her chest that made Abby feel like she was being torn apart, or maybe imploded. The only other contender was the sound of machines, the ones hooked up to the semi-lifeless Abby, beeping like crazy.

Sam and Dean jumped to their feet, Dean bellowing for a doctor. They rushed to the side of the real Abby, less than two steps away, but ironically away from the Abby keeled over on the floor. Her chest hurt so hard there were tears flowing from her eyes and maybe, if anyone could have heard her, she was screaming. She didn't know though, the ringing in her head was too much. Through tears, she could see a figure above her body. The same one from earlier- a reaper. It was there to kill Abby, and it was doing it. The lines on the machine, wavy up and down earlier, were now flat.

Nurses and doctors rushed into the room, past the invisible girl on the floor over to the bed. Abby noticed Sam and Dean's absence, almost able to see them being pushed out of the room by a doctor as they tried to claw their way back in.

The waves of pain were getting worse. It felt like they were never going to end and for a brief, split second, Abby just wanted it all to be over. Abby wanted someone to come sit by her, stroke her hair, and wipe her tears away. But Sam and Dean, who were right there, couldn't see her. Dad- Dad hadn't been seen for hours at this point. Abby wasn't sure where he was, but she wanted him here, so he could pick her up and take her home. God, Abby just wanted to go home.

Home wasn't a place, not one she could think of. As the waves of pain passed through Abby again and again, Abby felt the feeling of a leather jacket on her hands, the smell of gasoline and old cologne that the Impala always smelled of. She could hear the sound of old rock music from cassettes, and even though the sun had set hours ago she could feel sunlight streaming through the Impala's window.

Then Abby was violently yanked back down. She gasped and her eyes flew open, no longer filled with tears. The doctors surrounding her bed paused for a split second before Abby started coughing- no, choking- on the thing that was down her throat.

~

There was a comforting hand stroking Abby's hair. After the doctors had pulled the tube out of Abby's throat and determined she was not, in fact, dying presently, they'd allowed Sam and Dean back to her side. Now, they were standing next to her bed, Dean stroking her hair. The tears in their eyes hadn't slipped by Abby's notice, but she figured everyone needed to cry sometimes. That's what Sam said all the time, at least.

"I can't explain it. The edema has vanished." the doctor was saying. "The internal contusions have healed. Your vitals are good. You got to have some kind of angel watching over you." Abby half smiled, and looked up at Sam and Dean, paying careful attention to every word the doctor said.

"Thanks, Doc," Sam said.

There was a comfortable silence for a second before a knock on the door interrupted.

"How you feeling, kiddo?" Dad was leaning on the doorway, smiling a little as his children.

"Good, I think," Abby said. "I'm alive."

"That's what matters," Dad said.

"Where were you?" Sam asked. Even though Abby could tell he tried, there was still a hint of accusation at the edges of his voice.

"I had some things to take care of."

"Well, that's specific." Sam snapped back.

Dean leaned to Abby's ear and whispered "Well, if you can count on one thing..." And Abby grinned up at him.

Straightening up, Dean said, "Come on, Sam."

"Did you go after the demon?"

"No," Dad said. Abby couldn't tell if he was lying or not.

"Why don't I believe you right now?" Abby bit the inside of her cheek, shrinking into the pillows behind her back.

"You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't even know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Look, Sammy, I've... I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"

"Dad, are you all right?" Sam asked, dead serious.

Dad smiled a soft smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired. Hey, Dean, could you uh- come grab some caffeine with me? It'll only take a second."

"Yeah, sure," Dean said, and he left Abby's side. Dad lingered in the doorway for just a second after Dean left.

"Hey, Abs?"

"Yeah, Dad?" Abby looked up at her father, brown eyes staring into brown.

"Just uh... Don't run off while I'm gone."

Weird, it wasn't like Sam would let Abby just head out into the world alone.

"Okay, Dad," Abby said.

Dean came back in, a few minutes later, without Dad.

"Where's Dad?" Sam asked.

"He, uh, changed his mind."

"Oh," Abby said. Now, Dean was acting weird. Maybe it was because Abby was back, and they were just relieved. Dean was looking between Sam and Abby, an almost distraught look on his face. His eyes were a little shinier than normal, too. Then, there was the noise of people rushing outside Abby's doorway.

Dean moved, almost as if he had been expecting it, over to the doorway. "Abby, stay here," he said half-heartedly before rushing out, Sam following.

Abby looked out the window. She didn't think she could stand on her own legs anyway. She wasn't sure she had the strength. Out the window, Abby could see the morning sun shining through. A dragonfly flitted past.

A few minutes later, Abby would be told her father was dead.

Sam and Dean would never say he had made a deal with the demon with yellow eyes for her life, but she would know.

And yet, for that brief, momentary second, everything was okay. Dad was alive, Sam and Dean were okay, and Abby was too. Looking back, Abby would mark that second as a last, melancholy moment of being a kid. That feeling of assuredness, safety, and the naivete she had so desperately clung to would be ripped from her. Really, they already had. But she could pretend, for that last moment.

~

An Afterword: They've Got a Plan For Me, Even If I Don't Know It Yet

An Hour (Or So) Earlier

John stood in the dark basement, barely illuminated. Opposite him, a man in white dress clothes with yellow eyes. A demon, who John had summoned just minutes ago. Somewhere, floors above him, John's daughter was dying, and he knew that. It weighed on him.

"How do I know this isn't just another trick?" The demon said.

"It's no trick." John paused. "I will give you the Colt and the bullet. But you got to help Abby." the demon was interested and started to walk towards John. "You got to bring her back."

"Why, John, you're a sentimentalist. If only your girl knew how much her daddy loves her."

"It's a good trade," John said. He kept the pleading, the desperation, out of his voice. He was good at that.

"You care a hell of a lot more about this gun than you do a nine-year-old girl."

"Don't be so sure." The demon said, his contempt clear. "She's very important. Her brothers killed some people very special to me, and she is very special to them." The demon leaned back, clearly contemplating John's offer. "But, still, you're right. She isn't much of a threat at the moment." Torn pages of a book and a familiar painting flashed in John's mind. "Your eldest will be appeased by his sister's miracle recovery, and won't pose a threat for a while. His brother as well." The demon took a step towards John.

"You know the truth, right... about Sammy and the other children?" John's body tensed.

"Yeah. I've known for a while."

"But Sam doesn't, does he? You've been playing dumb." They were getting off-topic, to topics John didn't want to discuss with the demon that killed Mary and was the reason his baby was lying in a hospital bed at that moment.

"Can you bring Abby back? Yes or no." John asked.

"No." The demon responded a hint of glee on his face. "But I know someone who can. It's not a problem."

"Good. And before I give you the gun, I'm gonna want to make sure that Abby's okay, with my own eyes."

"Oh, John, I'm offended. Don't you trust me?" John said nothing; he wasn't about to lie.

"Hmm. Fine."

Relief started to seep into John's body, starting at his fingertips. "So we have a deal?"

"No, John, not yet. You still need to sweeten the pot."

The relief was gone. "With what?" John already knew. He knew from the second Sam had told him that Abby was dying. He'd hid it; Sam and Dean had always been easy to lie to about Abby.