The bottle of whiskey sat there, mocking you. It was empty and had been for quite some time now. Your head ached, and your stomach rumbled in protest of the whiskey now nestled in your stomach. But it wasn't enough to put your mind at ease. But you knew nothing would.

Both Sam and Dean were gone, and you were utterly grateful for the reprieve. It gave you a moment to think, to plan. Even though that was the last thing you wanted to do. Because then you would have to make a decision. A decision that would cause so much pain.

"Damn it," You muttered, hastily wiping away a tear. "I'm such a freaking idiot."

Pushing away from the table, you began pacing the library, your heart racing as you imagined what was going to happen when they returned. If you would finally be brave enough to...

"Honey, we're home!" Dean called out, bounding down the stairs, grocery bags in his hands. His green eyes twinkled as he tossed you a candy bar. "Miss me?"

"Of course," you whispered, not the happy tone he was expecting. His step stuttered before he continued on, Sam right behind him. Sam raised an eyebrow your way before following his brother to the kitchen. You slowly followed behind, your heart thumping so loudly you thought they could hear it.

Both brothers were arguing as they put the groceries away. It wasn't a heated argument, but one of fun. A brotherly jest. Normally you would have stood back and listened, enjoying the way the two brothers enjoyed each other's company. But not today. You couldn't handle it today.

Peering around the corner, you saw Dean placing the beer in the fridge, the red, white and grey flannel stretching taut across his shoulders. Sam was carefully arranging the dry ingredients in the pantry. It was a homey scene, normal, which was unusual in this household. And it made everything that much harder.

"Dean, can I talk to you," you asked, your voice barely a whisper. But with the bickering going on between Sam and Dean it went unheard.

Your courage gone, you raced back to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, tears wracking your body. You couldn't go through with it. Not face to face anyways. Hastily wiping away tears, you went to your nightstand, pulling out the notebook you always kept there, along with a pen.

"Dear Dean," you started but stopped immediately. You had no idea what to write. What words would match your thoughts?

"Going somewhere?" Dean asked, his voice blank of emotion as he leaned in the door frame. You knew how things looked. Your suitcase full on the bed, you sitting here writing a letter.

The second you turned to face him, everything became clear to him. He took a deep breath, his jaw clenched tight as he steeled himself to a fact you hated to admit. You were leaving him, much like he thought everyone in his life would. And it was killing you inside.

"Dean, I'm so sorry," you whispered. "But I have to go."

He refused to move from beside the door, the shadows offering his emotions security of darkness. "Why? You were just going to leave with only a note?"

You crumped up the paper, tossing it into the trash, wishing you didn't have to do this. "I tried talking to you. But you were with Sam, and this is so hard. I just..,"

He finally stepped forward, his hands tight in fists as he struggled to control his emotions. "You're going to blame this on me?"

You shook your head quickly. "Of course not. It's all on me. Dean, you've been amazing, and I love..I'll always love you. But I need to go," you tried explaining, knowing you couldn't say much more than that.

He rolled his jaw around, the muscles twitching. "You love me, but yet you're leaving me. Something doesn't sound right."

You let out a choked sob, your composure cracking with each moment you stayed here. "Dean, please. If you love me, you'll let me go."

He stepped to the side, leaving the path to the door clear. "Fine. Go. But if you walk through those doors, don't expect to ever come back. Understand? You're burning your only bridge here."

Sniffling, you pulled your suitcase off the bed. You peered up at Dean, but he refused to look at you. "Dean," you tried once more. "Being with you. It was the best part of my life. And I hope, in time that you'll forgive me."

He laughed, but it was cold and distant. "Y/N, you're leaving, and you're taking my heart with you. How the hell am I supposed to forgive that?"

"Maybe, in time, you'll see," you answered softly. Stopping at the door, you glanced back at him one more time, before heading to the garage. Your little hatchback was parked off to the side, and you shoved your suitcase in, your vision blurred by tears as you climbed in the front seat. It took three attempts to stick the key in the ignition, and you hastily wiped away the tears.

You half hoped that Dean would come running into the garage, stopping you before you left. But it stayed empty, and you guided your car out of the garage, and down the country road.

Your phone rang, and you answered it, your heart racing. "Are you done?" The female voice with the distinctive British accent asked.

"Yes," you sniffled.

"Good. Right on time too. Head to the meetup location," she ordered before hanging up the phone.

The meetup location was only ten minutes away, on the other side of town. Right beside the small airport. You could see the small jet, the steps already down, ready to fly you away from this life you had enjoyed so much. Back to a life that made Hell seem nice.

The slim blonde woman smiled as you approached. "Well done. It seems you infiltrated the Winchesters nicely."

"That bridge is burned now," you answered, trying to keep your emotions under control. This group didn't do emotions.

"Oh I doubt it," she chuckled. "Dean Winchester is infatuated with you. But we have all we need for now. So back you go."

"I thought," you spoke quickly, the thoughts of what you were going back to enough that you wanted to run. Run back to Dean and hope he could protect you. "After this, I could...,"

"What? Be redeemed? Y/N, darling, you will never be redeemed. You and your family will always be outcasts. Just because you seduced Dean Winchester doesn't change that. Now, you'll head back, and be that quiet little pipsqueak once again. Understood?"

You nodded, entering the jet, tears streaming slightly down your face. As the jet taxied down the runway, you searched for a black Impala, hoping that Dean would once again save the day.