ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ
"Do you honestly think we can ever be 'good' again?"
💫✦🌺

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A month later...

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

Sam grinned at the sound of Venus' voice, stretching out on the barstool like he had all the time in the world. "V," he sang, drawing out the syllable."I missed you!"

Venus froze mid-packing, her fingers curling around a t-shirt. Something was off. His voice—there was a slur to it, a slow, syrupy drag that wasn't common for him. In the background, a low, bluesy melody thumped, tinny through the receiver.

A bar. In the middle of the damn afternoon.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You're drunk."

"No," Sam said, too fast, voice dipping into unconvincing seriousness. "'M not drunk."

Venus' jaw tightened. "You're lucky you don't have any uncles I can ship your ass off to."

"What?"

"Nothing," she shook her head, forcing her hands to keep moving, shoving more clothes into her duffel instead of gripping the phone too tight. "Is Dean with you?"

"Nope," Sam popped the 'p' loud, careless.

Venus clenched her teeth. "So he'll find you soon."

"He's an idiot," Sam muttered.

Venus snorted, clumsily folding a hoodie. "Yeah, and?"

Silence. Just the distant echo of the bar behind him. Then—

"Why won't he let us save him?"

Her fingers stilled on the zipper of her bag. 

Venus inhaled deeply, pressing her lips together to steady herself. "Because he hates himself and doesn't think he deserves to be happy, much less saved," she said, voice flat. "It's one of the key points of his psyche. You know this."

A slow, tired exhale came from the other end of the line."Well, I give up."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do," Sam insisted, slow and petulant.

Venus yanked her zipper shut with one sharp pull, then dropped onto the bed beside her bag. "No, you don't," she repeated, firmer this time. "And you know why?"

"Why?" 

"Because I'm not giving up," Venus told him. "And yeah, I'm really mad at him right now—at the both of you—but guess what I've been doing here with my free time?"

Sam sighed, looking down at the amber liquid in his half-empty glass. "Thinking of a way to save him?"

"Ding, ding, ding. And I kinda need that big, beautiful brain of yours helping me," Venus said, voice dry but pointed.

Sam huffed. "You think my brain is beautiful?" 

Venus pressed her lips together, stopping a laugh before it could slip out. Not where she thought this conversation would go. "Yes, I do. Now stop sulking, loser."

Sam rolled his eyes and took another sip.

"Sam!" 

The familiar voice in the background wiped the amusement clean off Venus' face. Her stomach twisted.  

Right. The real reason she called. 

Her grip tightened on the phone. "Put Dean on," she ordered, her voice sharp.

A beat of fumbling, then—

"Wha—Venus?" Dean's voice crackled through the line, hesitant. He cleared his throat."H-How are you?"

"Fine," she answered flatly, cutting straight through the awkwardness. "Listen, I got a call from a—" she glanced at her palm where she'd scrawled the name, "Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburg. Bobby's in a coma."

"A coma? How the hell—"

"I don't know," Venus cut in. "Maid found him unresponsive in his motel room." She pushed to her feet, slinging her duffel over her shoulder with a practiced motion. Her mind was already moving three steps ahead—mapping routes, calculating time. "Where are you guys right now?"

"Chicago."

Venus did the math quickly. "You'll get there a couple hours before me, then. He's checked in under William Snyderson."

"Snyderson, got it," Dean nodded, but the line went dead before he could say more.

Venus shoved her phone into her jacket pocket and grabbed her keys and helmet, making her way into the living room. She dropped onto the couch and yanked on her boots, fingers moving faster than her thoughts. "Tío! I'm heading out."

Arturo appeared from the kitchen, still drying his hands on a dish towel. His expression didn't shift much—just a flicker of something unreadable, something cautious, like he was still feeling out the shape of things between them. "Keep me posted on Bobby?"

Venus nodded, standing up. "Yeah, I will."

A beat passed. She could feel his eyes on her, weighing something unspoken.

"Don't be too hard on the boys, alright?" Arturo said, voice edged with a quiet plea. "They were just trying to help."

Venus scoffed under her breath, adjusting the strap on her bag. She didn't argue, but she also didn't agree. Instead, she flicked her gaze to the side, unwilling to let him see the way those words made her stomach twist.

Because the truth was, she hadn't expected the space to help. She hadn't expected to breathe easier, to sleep better, to feel... steadier. But that didn't erase the words exchanged, didn't patch over the cracks left behind.

"Yeah, we'll see," she muttered, turning for the door.

She'd barely made it a step before Arturo caught her wrist. "Wait." 

Venus tensed, but before she could pull away, he tugged her in—not rough, not forceful, just steady, insistent. The hug wasn't quick this time. It wasn't obligatory. It was the kind that settled in deep, saying everything neither of them had figured out how to put into words yet.

Venus let out a slow breath, her fingers curling slightly against his back before she caught herself.

"Since I won't see you for a while," Arturo murmured.

Venus rolled her eyes, but the usual sharpness wasn't behind it. "I haven't decided if I'm gonna stay with them—"

"Yes, you have," Arturo said, quiet but firm.

Venus swallowed, then stepped back, plastering on a smile that didn't quite hold. "Nos vemos, tío."

His eyes softened, just for a second. "Cuídate, mija."

-ˋˏ [ 

[ ˎˊ-

Venus speed-walked through the sterile halls of Allegheny General, her boots echoing faintly against the tile. The scent of disinfectant burned in her nose, mingling with something stale—old coffee, cheap cafeteria food, the quiet hum of sickness that always clung to hospitals. 

Her eyes flicked from room number to room number, scanning each door she passed.

Another turn. 

She found it.

Her breath hitched.

Bobby lay still in the hospital bed, his broad frame dwarfed by thin sheets, his wrinkled face slack with sleep.

Venus exhaled slowly, pressing her lips together. No blood, no bruises. No tubes snaking into his arms, no ventilator keeping him breathing. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest, quiet and even.

She could live with that. For now.

Venus barely registered how Dean and Sam's conversation cut off the second she entered the room. Something about African Dream Root. Didn't matter. Not yet.

She crossed the room in three strides, dropping her bag and helmet to the floor without care. "Hey Bobby," she murmured, fingers grazing the back of his hand before lacing them together, her grip warm and firm.

Her thumb traced idle circles against his calloused skin, and for a fleeting second, she imagined him squeezing back like he always did—pulling her in for one of those bone-crushing hugs that smelled like whiskey and gun oil and home.

But he didn't.

Venus' throat tightened. She lingered a moment longer, eyes roaming his face like she could will him awake. Then, with a quiet breath, she straightened and let go, fingers curling briefly before dropping to her side.

She turned to the Winchesters.

Sam spoke first. "Hey."

Venus folded her arms, taking a slow step toward them. A year ago, she would've rushed to them, wrapping herself in their presence, whispering that Bobby would be okay—even if she didn't believe it. Reassuring them had been second nature, a reflex she didn't have to think about.

But that was then.

Now, her eyes caught on the folder in Sam's hand. He knew something.

She jerked her chin at it. "What do you know?"

Sam's grip on the folder tightened. He glanced down at the papers inside, hesitating before flipping through them. "Uh, Bobby was working a case—" he started.

Venus' eyes slid to Dean's. He was already looking at her. That unreadable stare, like he wanted to say everything and nothing all at once. The weight of their last interaction pressed in like a phantom ache.

She cleared her throat and looked away.

"This doctor at the university was running a sleep study on students with Charcott-Wilbrand syndrome, which means—"

"They can't dream," Venus finished with a nod. Her voice was steady, but the tension in her shoulders never eased. "You mentioned African Dream Root earlier, was he giving that stuff to them?"

Sam nodded. "According to the university, yeah."

Venus exhaled sharply. "Out of all the roots," she muttered under her breath. But before she could ask where the doctor was, her eyes caught on a clipped obituary among the papers. "He's dead?"

"Killed in his sleep," Dean confirmed, his stare lingering on Bobby.

Venus glanced back at the old hunter, then over to Sam. "So what—one of the test subjects figured out what the dream root could really do and then used it to kill the guy?"

"Sounds about right," Sam sighed.

"And then there's Bobby, still alive and kicking," Venus said softly, a small, fleeting smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she looked down at him.

"The question is, how come?" Sam added.

Venus thought for a moment, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. Then, decisively, she turned for the door. "I need to make a call."

"To who?" Sam asked.

She hesitated just long enough for them to notice. "Bela."

The reaction was immediate. She barely made it a few steps before she heard the brothers scrambling to catch up.

"Uh, come again?" Sam said, disbelief clear in his voice.

Venus stopped and turned to face them, looking up from her phone. She didn't even try to meet Dean's eyes—she could already feel his irritation simmering beside her. "We need African Dream Root. Unless either of you have some lying around, she's the only person I know who can get it."

The brothers exchanged a look but didn't argue. Yet.

Venus let out a slow breath, her gaze flicking to Dean's for just a second before she said, "Contrary to what you might think, asking her for anything is the last thing I want to do right now. But it's the only way we're gonna be able to save Bobby."

Sam frowned. "Wait...you want to go dream-walking in Bobby's head?"

Venus shrugged. "Why not? It might be the only way we can help."

"We have no idea what's crawling around in there," Sam pointed out, his hesitation laced with concern.

Dean finally spoke up. "How bad can it be?"

"Bad," Sam said immediately.

Dean scoffed. "Dude, it's Bobby."

Venus sighed. Arturo hadn't told her everything about Bobby's past, but from what little she did know, Sam might have a point. But that didn't change what needed to be done.

Her thumb hovered over Bela's number for half a second before she pressed the call button.

"It doesn't matter," she said, more to herself than to them. "He needs our help. And this is the only way I know how to give it to him."

Without another word, she turned and walked away in search of a quiet corner.

The line barely rang twice before Bela picked up. "Venus, what a lovely surprise."

Venus exhaled slowly, already hearing the sharpness beneath Bela's smooth tone. 

"I...need a favor."

A beat. Then, a soft hum. "Of course you do." 

Venus could almost picture the knowing smirk on Bela's lips, the way she masked disappointment with indifference.

"And why would I do that?" Bela continued, voice edged with something unreadable.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you owe me," Venus shot back, keeping her voice polite despite her growing irritation. She caught the glance of a passing nurse and forced a tight, awkward smile.

Bela let out a quiet, humorless laugh."No, darling. We were even the moment I gave you Gordon's location."

Venus rolled her eyes. "Right. After you led him to us in the first place."

Silence. Just for a second. Then—

"Look," Venus pressed on, shaking her head. "The favor's not for me, alright? It's for Bobby Singer. He's in a coma and we need African Dream Root to try and get him out."

For the first time, Bela didn't have a snide remark ready. Venus heard her shift on the other end, the pause stretching just long enough to be noticeable.

"This isn't your everyday herb, Venus."

"I'm well aware," Venus leaned against the wall, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That's why I'm calling the only 'purveyor of powerful occult objects' I know."

Bela sighed, but it was softer this time, almost reluctant. "I'm afraid I can't help you."

Venus' jaw clenched. "What? Why not?"

"Because I don't feel like it?"

Venus let out a short, shocked laugh. "E-Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Bela's voice dipped, a little too pleased with herself. "Goodbye, Venus."

Venus straightened. "Goodbye? Bela don't you—"

Click.

The dial tone rang in her ear.

She pulled the phone away, staring at the screen in disbelief. "You've gotta be shitting me."

Later that night, Venus sat cross-legged on the floor of Bobby's motel room, sifting through the deceased doctor's notes. The lamplight cast long shadows across the walls, and the rustle of paper was the only real sound—except for Sam's steady snoring, deep and undisturbed in the corner.

Dean, perched on an armchair opposite the second bed, drummed his fingers against his knee. The silence was starting to make his skin itch.

"You making heads or tails of any of this stuff?" he asked, mostly just to fill the space.

Venus let out a slow sigh, twirling a pen between her fingers. "His handwriting is absolute shit," she mumbled. "But from what I can read? Yeah. It makes sense."

Dean huffed out a short laugh. "Right, I forgot you were Mrs. Psychology"

She didn't look up, didn't even acknowledge the joke. Just kept reading, underlining something in her lap like he hadn't spoken at all.

Dean swallowed, his smirk fading.

The silence crept back in, stretching long enough for him to regret saying anything. Until Venus spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Dean blinked, looking up to find Venus watching him.

"It's fine," he shrugged, forcing a half-smile. "We're not dating anymore, so you're not required to laugh at my shitty jokes."

Venus shook her head. "No, I'm sorry about Minneapolis. The slap."

Dean's lips parted slightly in surprise. She looked genuinely beaten up over it—not just apologizing out of obligation, but like it had been sitting heavy on her chest for a while.

"Oh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh. It's fine. If we're being honest, I had it coming."

"No, you didn't," her voice was firm, unwavering. "I crossed a line I told myself I'd never cross. Ever. Not after..." She trailed off, but she didn't need to say it. Dean's jaw clenched, and the room felt smaller for a second. They both knew exactly what she meant.

John.

Venus exhaled, shaking her head. "I wasn't thinking straight. I won't let it happen again."

Dean studied her, taking in just how much she meant it. The guilt, the sincerity—the grace she was offering him when he wasn't sure he deserved it. "Okay," he nodded. A small, hopeful smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "So, we're good then?"

Venus scoffed, arching a brow at him. "No," she said, like it should've been obvious. "I crossed a line, yeah. But it doesn't erase everything else behind the line."

Dean sighed, staring down at the floor. He should've known better.

"Do you honestly think we can ever be 'good' again?" Venus asked. She wasn't looking for comfort—she needed to know if he really thought this was fixable. If he understood how deep the damage ran.

Dean's jaw tightened. After a beat, he let out a breath. "I don't know, Venus," his shoulders slumped.

"No," Venus shook her head. "The answer isn't 'I don't know'. It's 'no', Dean." She pushed herself up off the floor.

Dean looked up as she moved toward the door. "Where are you going?" he sighed.

"There's a book in my room that I need," she muttered, reaching for the knob.

But when she swung it open, she nearly stepped into a raised fist, hovering inches from the wood.

Bela.

Venus blinked in surprise. "Um. Why are you here?"

Bela strolled past her like she owned the place, sliding her handbag off her shoulder with practiced ease. "You called me, remember?"

Venus frowned, watching as Dean turned to shake Sam awake. "I remember you turning me down," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well, I'm just full of surprises," Bela chirped, smirking.

Venus pressed her lips together, eyes narrowing. "Not exactly the 's' word I was thinking of, but sure."

Bela shot her a look, but didn't bite. Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small jar, holding it up in her palm. "I brought you your African Dream Root."

Venus took the jar, her gaze locking onto Bela's, suspicion flickering behind her eyes.

"Nasty stuff, and not easy to come by," Bela added, shrugging off her trench coat.

Venus cleared her throat, keeping her focus firmly on Bela's face—not on the deep neckline of her form-fitting green dress. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

Bela tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What? I can't do you a little favor every now and again?"

"No, you can't," Dean chimed in flatly from Venus' right. 

Bela's smirk widened as she turned toward him. "Oh, hello, Dean. Didn't see you there."

Dean's glare harshened.

Unbothered, Bela turned back to Venus. "You said this was for Bobby Singer, right? Well, I'm doing it for him, not you."

Venus frowned. "Didn't know you and the old man were close like that..." she trailed off, suspicious.

Bela hesitated, licking her lips nervously. "He saved my life once. In Flagstaff."

Venus flicked a glance toward Sam, who lifted a shoulder in a silent shrug.

"I screwed up and he saved me, okay? Are you satisfied?" Bela snapped.

"Maybe," Dean said, arms crossed. His gaze was skeptical, dissecting.

Bela suddenly perked up, clasping her hands together. "So, when do we go on this little magical mystery tour?"

Venus arched a brow, passing the jar to Dean. "I'm sorry, we?"

Bela's smile faltered.

Dean stepped away, heading for the safe. "I don't trust you enough to let you in my car much less Bobby's head."

"No offense," Venus added with a shit-eating grin.

Bela tore her gaze from the safe Dean had just locked and met Venus' eyes with a saccharine smile. "None taken."

Then, after a beat, she huffed. "It's two a.m. Where am I supposed to go?"

Venus shrugged, all faux innocence. "Get a room." She stepped aside, gesturing toward the door.

Dean smirked. "Oh, they got the magic fingers, a little 'Casa Erotica' on pay-per-view. You'll love it," he winked.

Bela scoffed in offense, glancing between the two of them before snatching up her purse and coat. "You..." she trailed off, shaking her head. With another huff, she stomped out, slamming the door behind her.

Venus exhaled once the latch clicked into place, ignoring the strange twinge in her chest at pushing Bela away. Instead, she walked toward her laptop, refocusing on the tedious preparations for African Dream Root tea.

An hour later, she had brewed three cups—somehow managing not to gag in the process. She handed one to each of the brothers, who were perched on the motel beds.

Dean eyed the murky liquid warily. "Well, should we dim the lights and sync up 'Wizard of Oz' and 'Dark Side of the Moon' ?"

Venus fought the urge to smile, rolling her eyes instead as she pulled over one of the worn motel armchairs.

Sam blinked, glancing between them. "Why?"

"It's an acid joke," Venus explained flatly, sinking into the chair and getting comfortable.

Sam's expression shifted from confusion to mild alarm. "Acid? How would you know that?"

Venus didn't miss a beat. She blinked. "Don't worry about it. Where's Bobby's hair."

Sam reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small envelope, carefully dividing Bobby's hair between them.

"We have to drink Bobby's hair?" Dean grimaced.

"That's how you control whose dream you're entering," Sam explained, tipping the brown strands into his cup. "You gotta drink some of their uh...some of their body."

Dean shrugged. "I guess the hair of the dog's better than other parts of the body."

Venus dried not to dwell on that thought too much, hurriedly sprinkling Bobby's hair into her cup.

"Bottoms up," Dean announced.

The hunters tossed back the tea at the same time, each swallowing as quickly as they could. The sound of their combined groans and grunts of disgust filled the room as the bitter taste settled in their mouths.

Venus exhaled sharply, carefully setting her cup down by her foot.

"You guys feel anything?" Sam asked, breaking the silence.

"No," Dean replied, still grimacing, trying to rid his tongue of the aftertaste.

Venus opened her mouth to echo the sentiment, but then a sound from outside the window caught her attention. "When did it start raining?" she muttered, slowly rising to her feet. 

She walked over to the window pulling back the thin curtains, but froze at what she saw. "It's raining...upside down."

Turning back to the boys, she saw the room was no longer the same. Gone were the bright yellows and blues of the motel room; now muted reds and greys dominated the space, and old, antique furniture had replaced the usual decor. Her eyes fell to her skin—even her usually tanned hue now looked strangely dull.

Venus, Dean, and Sam stood in stunned silence, taking in their surroundings.

"Okay, I don't know what's weirder," Dean began, his voice slightly cynical. "The fact that we're in Bobby's head, or that he's dreaming of 'Better Homes and Gardens'."

Venus shot him a dry look.

"Wait," Sam called out, his eyes lighting up as he took in the surroundings further. "Imagine the place without the paint job, more cluttered and dusty, books all over the place," he pointed to different corners of the room.

Venus scanned the space, and as Sam described it, her eyes widened. "It's Bobby's house," she chuckled, almost in awe.

"Bobby?" Dean shouted, looking around. No answer.

Venus had started to move toward the staircase when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Without thinking, she spun toward the window. The wind outside howled softly, branches of trees swaying in the breeze. But something about it... something felt off.

She turned, catching Sam's eye. He was staring at the window too, his expression mirroring her unease. They exchanged a look, but before she could voice it, she quickly shook the feeling away.

"Bobby?" she called out as she approached the staircase, her voice just above a hush. But again, no response.

Sam carefully moved past her and located the front door. "Guys, I'm gonna go look outside," he announced softly.

"No, no, no. Stay close," Dean harshly whispered back from the living room.

"Dude, I'll be fine. Just look around in here," Sam responded with more confidence than Venus felt. She and Dean both shot him concerned looks. "Look, we gotta find him," Sam added.

"Shout if you need help."

"Don't do anything stupid."

Venus and Dean's words overlapped, the mix of care and caution clear. Sam flashed them a brief smile, then made his way toward the door.

Venus turned back toward the living room and pulled open the sliding doors that led into the kitchen. She scoffed, remembering the state Bobby's house was usually in. Those doors were in desperate need of WD-40, always staying open unless forced. She slowly entered the kitchen, Dean trailing just behind her.

Her movements slowed as she became hyper-aware of the proximity between them. Venus could feel the warmth of Dean's body, almost too close—too familiar. She didn't know if it was because he was right there, or if it was just the constant presence of him that always seemed to linger. She tried to ignore it, tried to keep her thoughts focused on the task at hand. But it was harder than it should have been.

The kitchen was empty, and like the other parts of the house, it was in better condition than either of them were used to.

"Bobby?" Dean called out, his voice slightly raised but still cautious.

Venus listened intently for any response, any slight shift in the air. But there was nothing. They walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. The house, oddly quiet, stretched before them, shadows lingering in the corners.

"Bobby?" Venus tried again, her voice softer, but her eyes lingered on a closet door nearby. The painted wood was dented, scratches marking it like it had been subject to something far more brutal than the usual wear and tear.

Once again, a prickling sensation crept up her spine, her instincts flicking on a warning light. She snapped her head behind her without thought, searching the darkness. Dean's gaze followed hers, falling to the gap beneath a door at the end of the hall, watching, waiting, but finding nothing. They locked eyes, exchanging an unspoken acknowledgment of the suspicion mounting between them.

"Who's out there?" A familiar voice murmured, low and cautious, from inside the closet.

Both of them froze. Dean's hand hovered near the knob, his fingers tightening around it slowly, not quite sure what to expect. "Bobby?" he whispered.

Venus' fingers grazed over the scratches on the door, her mind racing. "It's Venus and Dean, Bobby. Open up."

A beat passed before Bobby's voice came again. "Venus?" he repeated, not entirely sure she was real.

The door creaked open, revealing Bobby. He appeared unharmed, for the most part—aside from the three deep scratches along his cheek and a look of pure terror in his eyes. His gaze darted between them, disbelief written all over his face. Without a word, he slipped past them, pressing himself against the nearby wall, his body tense and alert. He leaned slightly toward the corner, as if expecting someone—or something—to appear. 

"How the hell did you guys find me?" Bobby asked, surveying the empty hallway with suspicion.

"We got our hands on some of that Dream-Root stuff," Dean explained, his voice laced with concern.

Bobby stared at them like they'd grown horns, his eyes flicking from one to the other before returning to their cautious glances around the nearest corners. "Dream Root? What?"

Venus met Bobby's gaze, her expression now more than just concerned. She'd never seen him like this—so rattled, so disoriented. Whatever was going on here, it was bigger than any of them had expected. She stepped closer to him, her voice soft but insistent. "Dr. Gregg? The experiments?" she tried, her words tinged with urgency.

Bobby blinked rapidly, confusion clouding his features. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked

Before they could press further, the hallway lamp above them began to blink rapidly—flickering.

Without warning, Bobby's hand shot out, grabbing both of them by their arms and yanking them backwards, pulling them to the closet. His movements were frantic, his eyes wide with fear. "Hurry," he urged, breath coming in shallow gasps.

Venus fought against his grip. "Okay, Bobby, there's no way we're all fitting in there—" she muttered, trying to pull back.

Dean reached out, grabbing Bobby's shoulders and steadying him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's going on?"

Bobby's chest heaved with each breath, his eyes darting over their shoulders, his gaze fixed on something just behind them. "She's coming," he told them.

Venus shifted her position, blocking Bobby's line of sight and forcing his eyes to meet hers. She kept her voice calm, though inside, a knot tightened in her stomach. "Bobby, you know this is a dream, right?" she asked, trying to reach through the fog of panic that was overtaking him.

"W-What? Are you crazy?" Bobby's voice shook, barely contained hysteria edging his words.

"It's a dream, Bobby," Dean interjected, his tone now firm, trying to ground him. "None of this is real."

But Bobby wasn't listening. He raised a shaking hand, pointing behind them. "Does that look made up?"

Venus and Dean turned in unison. Their eyes fixed on the door that they'd glanced at earlier. This time, it was wide open, and standing in the doorway was a woman—pale skin, hair matted to her forehead with blood. The white dress she wore was soaked through with red, and her chest bore multiple stab wounds, still bleeding. Her eyes, vacant and empty, locked onto them as she took a slow step forward.

And she didn't look friendly.

Then, the closet door slammed shut behind them with a deafening thud. Bobby rattled the knob desperately, his fingers digging into the wood in an attempt to force the door to open.

Venus and Dean, however, couldn't tear their eyes away from the woman in the hallway. She moved slowly toward them, her bloodied body swaying with every step.

"Bobby, who is that?" Dean asked, his tone cautious.

Bobby's voice trembled when he answered. "She's..."He trailed off, the words too painful to form. His hand still gripped the knob, knuckles white from the force. "...My wife."

Venus' heart skipped a beat. She hadn't known the full extent of Bobby's past—hadn't known how violent his wife's death had been. She swallowed hard, trying to push the weight of the revelation aside. She tore her eyes from the bloodstained woman in front of them. "We can't stay here," she murmured.

Dean gave a subtle nod of agreement, his eyes scanning their surroundings for an escape.

They moved quickly, side-stepping across the room, pulling Bobby along with them. His gaze, however, remained fixed on the ghostly figure of his wife, her feet making no sound on the floor as she followed them, unhurried.

They were almost through the kitchen, the threshold of the living room just ahead, when she spoke.

"Bobby, why did you do this to me?" The words were quiet, almost a whisper, but the heartbreak in her voice cut through everything.

Bobby came to a stop, his face contorted with guilt. He turned to face her, his expression tortured, and for a moment, Venus thought she could see him break. "I'd have rather died myself than hurt you."

The woman's frown deepened, the tears in her eyes mingling with the blood on her face. "But you did hurt me. You shoved that knife into me...again, and again," she said, almost sounding pained by the words.

Venus and Dean exchanged a glance. Both of them froze mid-step, their jaws dropping in disbelief at what had just been revealed.

"You watched me bleed, watched me die," she continued, her voice soft but fierce. "How could you?"

Dean didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his hand resting firmly on Bobby's shoulder, trying to ground him, to pull him back to reality. "Bobby, she's not real," he pleaded.

Bobby's gaze never wavered. His eyes were locked onto the woman, the love and pain reflected in them, raw and unfiltered. He blinked back tears. "You were possessed, baby. You were rabid. And I didn't know what I know now. I didn't know how to save you."

"You're lying. You wanted me dead. If you'd loved me, you would have found a way!" the dead woman screamed, her voice bouncing off the walls.

Venus took a steadying breath, her eyes not leaving the woman. She stepped forward, her hand reaching out to Bobby, pulling him gently toward the living room. "Bobby, come on," she urged.

Dean joined her, both of them using all their strength to pull Bobby away, to break him from the agonizing grip of his guilt. His muffled sob—a twisted, mangled "I'm sorry"—shook Venus to her core as they quickly slid the doors shut. The pounding on the other side was deafening, the sound of frantic fists slamming against the partition. 

Bobby staggered back into the room, running a trembling hand over his face, his entire body shuddering with the sobs he couldn't hold back. Venus' heart twisted at the sight.

Dean slammed his body against the door, trying to hold it shut against the furious banging from the other side. The sounds of her screams—his wife's screams—echoed, and the air grew thick with fear and tension.

Venus didn't waste a second. She immediately walked over to Bobby, reaching out to pull him into a hug. His arms wrapped around her with a desperation that made her chest tighten. She heard the wet sound of his sobs, his body shaking as he buried his face against her. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

When she gently pulled back, she pressed her palms into his, feeling the tremble in his hands as he squeezed them in return. "Bobby, I need you to listen to me," she said, her voice low but steady.

His eyes flicked from her to the door, watching the frantic slams and listening to the thundering noise. His breath came in shallow gasps, his chest heaving with the weight of it all.

"Hey," she called softly, forcing a calm, reassuring smile onto her lips, even though her own heart was breaking. "None of this is real, I swear to you. The house, your wife, all of this—it's just a nightmare."

Bobby shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I killed her," he muttered, the horror in his eyes unmistakable.

Venus' hand shot out, grabbing his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "No, no, no," she urged, her tone sharp, her gaze intense. "Don't you do that." She took a breath, trying to keep herself steady for both of them. "You did what you thought was right, Bobby. You didn't kill her. She was already lost." She squeezed his hands, her voice softening but still full of urgency. "Now, please. Wake up."

But Bobby's eyes had already drifted to Dean, who was frantically tying the door shut with a wire. Bobby pulled his hands from Venus' grasp, a new, hollow expression crossing his face. He turned toward the door, his feet dragging as he took slow, deliberate steps toward it. "Just leave me alone. Let her kill me already," he croaked.

Venus' heart lurched for him—he was already dead inside, beaten down by guilt. She shot a hopeless, desperate glance at Dean. They couldn't lose him. Not like this.

That glance sparked something in Dean—a new, fierce determination. Without thinking, he grabbed Bobby by the lapels of his jacket, shaking him hard. "Look at me!"

Bobby's eyes—haunted and full of remorse—met his.

"You gotta snap out of this now!" Dean demanded.

Venus moved to stand beside him, her hand finding Bobby's arm. Her voice was firmer than before. "Bobby, you're not gonna die," she said quickly.

"We're not gonna let you die," Dean echoed, his words raw. "You're like a father to us. You've gotta believe us."

"Please," Venus added, voice cracking.

Bobby's gaze flickered between them, his breathing shallow. Slowly, he sniffled away the last of his tears, his brows furrowed in confusion. "I...I'm dreaming?" he said.

Venus' relief was palpable. She smiled. "Yes. Now take a deep breath and take control of it."

Bobby looked at the door one last time, inhaled sharply, and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

And then the room fell into silence.

Dean walked toward the door, his movements slow, cautious. He removed the wire that had been hastily tied around the doorknob and pulled it open.

The kitchen was empty.

Bobby's wife—whatever she had been—was gone.

Bobby exhaled, a long, shuddering breath that seemed to empty him out. His shoulders slumped in disbelief. "I don't believe it," he muttered, still staring at the open door.

Dean's head hung low for a moment, his body slumped in exhaustion, a relieved breath slipping from his mouth. "Believe it," he replied.

Bobby's gaze shot to Venus, shock still written across his face.

She nodded, her voice calm but firm. "Now wake up—" 

In an instant, they were all jolted upright, gasping for air like they'd been pulled from the depths of water. Light beads of sweat dotted their skin, the chill of the motel room harsh against their newly awakened bodies.

It was well into the morning.

The hunters remained still for a moment, breathless, their minds catching up with the fact that they were no longer trapped in that surreal nightmare. The weight of what they'd just lived through hung heavy in the room, unspoken but shared between them.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, they moved. Gathering keys, jackets, and a newfound resolve, they filed out of the motel room, Bobby's name heavy on their minds.

An hour later, Dean and Venus sat on either side of Bobby, watching the man pour over his research, flipping through the papers with practiced concentration. His brows furrowed now and then as he refreshed his memory, his movements stiff, like he was trying to claw his way out of the emotional weight that still clung to him.

The room was silent, save for the rustle of paper and the occasional sigh. Venus didn't mind the quiet. She leaned back in the chair beside Bobby, feet crossed and comfortably perched on the edge of his bed—the spot he had so kindly offered her earlier. She watched him with a soft smile, glad to see him moving again, to see the spark of life still in his eyes. But while he worked, she could see the weight of guilt pressing on him. The same guilt he could never quite hide, not after what they'd all seen together. It made her heart ache for him, for the man who had tried so hard to do right, even when everything around him was falling apart.

"Hey, Bobby?" Dean's voice broke the silence, nervous but gentle. He watched Bobby carefully, knowing he was treading on fragile ground. "That, uh...that stuff with your wife..."

Bobby froze, his hands halting mid-turn of the page. His eyes shot to Dean's, wide and vulnerable. He didn't say anything at first. The fear was clear on his face—fear that now, with everything exposed, Dean would look at him differently.

"...that actually happen?" Dean asked, his voice careful, like he wasn't sure if he had the right to ask.

Bobby looked at Dean for a moment longer before shifting his stare to his left, where Venus sat, quietly awaiting an answer. "Everybody got into hunting somehow," he said, forcing a tight, awkward smile. His eyes returned to the papers in front of him.

"I'm sorry," Dean said without hesitation. There wasn't an ounce of malice in his stare, just genuine understanding.

Bobby shook his head. "Don't be sorry." His gaze darted back to Venus. "If it weren't for you two, I'd still be lost in there—or dead. Thank you."

Venus smiled, a soft, warm gesture that lingered for just a second before something inside her shifted. Almost instinctively, her eyes drifted to Dean. And like almost every other time, Dean was already looking back at her. The smile she wore faltered slowly, her heart sinking as the weight of the moment hung between them. She didn't look away. Not this time. And she wasn't quite ready to admit why.

Dean couldn't help himself, couldn't look away when she caught him like usual. He missed this—missed her. The way they worked together, without even thinking. How they could step into sync without a word, only an unspoken understanding passing between them. 

He had spent the last month telling himself he was fine, burying everything, pushing it all down. Hell, it was easier since she wasn't around. Easier to pretend that he was fine without her, to convince himself that the ache deep in his chest didn't matter. But seeing her now, with that look in her eyes—it hit harder than he expected. And for a second, he almost forgot what he'd done. Almost.

Bobby, sensing the change in the air, raised a brow, his eyes flicking between them both, but neither Venus nor Dean seemed to notice.

Neither of them even noticed that Sam had entered the room until he cleared his throat. "So, uh, stoner boy wasn't in his dorm."

Venus blinked and shifted her stare to Sam. Right. College kid appeared in Bobby's dream and whacked Sam with a bat. That's what's important.

"My guess is, he's long gone by now," Sam added.

Dean forced his gaze away from Venus, shaking his head slightly to clear it. The air was still thick, and it wasn't just the case that had them on edge.

Bobby scoffed and reached for one of the photos in the folder. "He ain't much of a stoner. His name's Jeremy Frost—full-on genius, hundred and sixty IQ. Which is saying something considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head."

Venus' eyes widened. "Damn," she whispered.

Bobby reached for another paper. "Here's father of the year," he handed it to Venus. She glanced down at the photocopy of a driver's license, holding it out for Sam to lean over and look.

"Henry David Frost," Venus read aloud. "Even his name sounds deranged."

Bobby scoffed. "He died before Jeremy was ten."

"Looks like a real sweetheart," Sam commented, taking the paper and handing it to Dean across the bed.

"So, the injury gave the kid Charcot-Wilbrand," Venus filled in, her voice steady, her mind already piecing things together.

Bobby nodded.

"Till he started dosing the dream drug and dreamed again," Dean chimed in.

Venus sighed, sinking further into her seat. "That doctor was a hack. A repeated dose of a stimulant this powerful could already cause serious neural disruption in an undamaged brain. But in a brain that's already been compromised?" she shook her head, tone growing more clinical as she spoke. "We're talking about a severe breakdown of neural pathways—psychosis, hallucinations, impulsive behavior. I bet his dopamine and serotonin receptors are fried to hell."

She looked up at the half-bewildered, half-impressed stares she received from the men around the room. "Carry on," she said, waving them off.

"How did he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?" Dean asked Bobby.

Bobby shrugged. "He was rooting around in my skull, God knows what he saw in there."

"Yeah, how'd he get in there in the first place?" Sam asked this time.

"Right, don't tell me he plucked out one of your hairs when you weren't looking?" Venus half-joked with a raised brow.

Bobby sighed. "Before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it."

"Oh, Bobby," Venus groaned, running a hand down her face.

"Dumbest friggin' thing," he lowly scolded himself.

Beside him, Dean gulped. "Oh, I don't know, it wasn't that dumb," he chuckled nervously.

Silence filled the room, and all eyes shifted to him.

"Dean, you didn't," Sam said.

"I was thirsty?" Dean attempted to defend himself, though it was clear he wasn't convinced by his own argument.

Venus couldn't even stop the laugh that left her lips. "Ah, silly, silly men," she giggled, voice light and teasing, but with a hint of something else. Maybe she was letting go of some of that tension, or maybe she just enjoyed poking fun at them—either way, it was infectious.

Dean looked down with a half frown, scratching the back of his head, trying to shrug it off.

"That's great!" Sam snapped. "Now he can come after either one of you."

"Well, now we just have to find him first," Dean declared with a sure nod, though the confidence was a little forced.

"We better work fast, and coffee up," Bobby said, the weight of their task ahead settling into the air. " 'Cause the one thing we cannot do is fall asleep."

Venus chuckled again, rising to her feet. "Not me though," she grinned. "I'm gonna go back to my room, take a nice warm shower, and take the fattest nap." She leaned down, wrapping her arms around Bobby in a quick hug.

"But um, you night owls let me know when you find the kid, yeah?" Venus said, walking backwards out of the room with two thumbs up. Her laughter soon faded into the halls.

Dean's shoulders sagged. God, he missed that sound. The lightness in the room was suddenly gone.

"She's enjoying this way too much," Bobby said, glancing between the boys.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "Uh, yeah, she's kinda mad at us right now."

Bobby rolled his eyes, the exhaustion of dealing with the three young hunters clear in the tired way his gaze flicked between them. "What did you two idjits do?" He had a suspicion, thanks to Arturo, but he wanted to hear it from them—hear it confirmed.

Dean scoffed, lifting his arms in defense. "Why do you immediately assume that we did something?"

Bobby deadpanned.

The boys exchanged a quick look. After a beat, they began to catch Bobby up, but Dean's mind wasn't fully there. It kept drifting back to Venus, to that moment earlier when she'd looked at him like—like she still cared. But no, he'd heard what she said. She was done with him. She had to be.

So why did a small part of him think it was a lie?

-ˋˏ [

~                [ ˎˊ-

Fresh off a much-needed nap, Venus sat cross-legged at the table in her motel room, one of her old psych textbooks open before her. She flipped through the familiar pages with a small, almost wistful smile, the memories of Stanford flooding her mind. The tips of her fingers grazed old doodles and annotations in the margins, some of them hers, others Jess', the latter lending a sense of nostalgia that twisted something sharp in Venus' chest.

The sharp buzzing of her phone interrupted her thoughts, the moment slipping away.

She glanced down at the device, a bell emoji followed by an angry face. Bela. Venus rolled her eyes but answered the call, her thumb brushing the green button with an almost automatic ease.

"So how'd it go? Is Bobby alright?" Bela's voice came through, cool and steady.

Venus sighed, leaning back in her chair, her gaze turning to the wall in front of her. "He's fine—conscious now. But we're keeping an eye on him. The kid who did this already has a foot in the door to his head. And in Dean's now too," she added, the words tasting bitter in her mouth.

Bela hummed in the phone, the satisfaction in her voice unmistakable. "Glad to hear he's at least back on his feet."

A brief silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken things. Each of them lingering, trying to find the words to move the conversation forward, but neither one quite willing to give up the moment.

"So what corner of the country are you off to now? Any new old ladies that need scamming?" Venus asked, leaning into the casual tone she hoped would mask the uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach.

Bela chuckled, the sound surprisingly light, though Venus could hear the edge of something darker beneath it. "I'm actually still in Pittsburg," she replied, leaving out the part about her waiting for the perfect moment to steal the Colt from the Winchesters' safe.

Venus raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Let me guess, holed up in one of the fanciest hotels money can buy."

"Not exactly," Bela drawled, her voice taking on that playful edge Venus recognized all too well. "I'm on the floor above yours."

Venus straightened in her chair at that, her pulse picking up, unexpectedly sharp. She didn't move for a moment, trying to keep the sudden wave of unease from swallowing her whole.

"I'm in the mood for a jog at the moment," Bela continued, her tone velvety smooth. "I suppose I could wander down there if I had a good enough reason."

Venus' breath caught in her throat, and her fingers tightened around the phone. She didn't need to read between the lines to hear the invitation. She knew exactly what Bela was hinting at. The words caught in Venus' chest, but she forced them out with a scoff. "Are you trying to get me to turn this into a booty call?" she asked.

Bela played coy, but Venus could hear the teasing edge creeping into her voice. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Venus leaned back in her chair, letting out a frustrated breath as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. She should hang up, should shut this down before it went any further, but—three months. Three months without any kind of...real release. She couldn't remember the last time she'd let herself feel something other than anger and confusion. And maybe—just maybe—it wasn't such a bad idea.

Letting out a breath, Venus spoke again, her voice quieter, more resigned. "Let the record show, that I don't trust you and I think you're a horrible person."

"Ouch, words hurt," Bela shot back, though her tone lacked any real sting. The truth was, the words might have stung—Venus knew they meant more than just a playful jab—but neither would admit that out loud.

A smirk spread across Venus' face, her lips twitching despite herself. "But I thought you liked it when I made it hurt?" she said before she could stop herself. She sprung out of her chair and began pacing, her thoughts racing a thousand miles per hour. What was she doing? Why was she even entertaining this? She couldn't be this desperate...could she?

Bela's sultry chuckle came through the phone, sending a small shiver down Venus' spine. "What are you wearing?" she asked, the eagerness clear in her voice now.

Venus stopped mid-step, her gaze dropping to the oversized t-shirt and Looney Tunes pajama shorts she'd been lounging in for the last few hours. It felt ridiculous. The dissonance between what she was wearing and what was unfolding—what she was about to do—suddenly hit her full force. "Clothes," she answered plainly, wishing it was enough to shield her from the vulnerability creeping in.

"Hopefully not too much," Bela's voice dropped.

Venus scoffed, feeling a rush of heat flood her cheeks. She couldn't stop the sudden spike in her heart rate, even as her mind screamed at her to cut it off. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she shot back, forcing herself to resume her pacing, trying to ignore the way her skin seemed to buzz with the conversation.

"Yes, I would. What room are you in?" Bela pressed, her tone now practically purring.

Venus froze again, her heart lurching in her chest. The moment felt like it stretched out forever, the tension thick, tangled in the space between her and the phone. Her lips parted, and for a heartbeat, she almost didn't speak, knowing full well what revealing that information meant.

But before she could stop herself, the words slipped out. "Room sixteen," she said, her voice sounding foreign even to her own ears. She immediately facepalmed, the heat flooding her body, a rush of regret washing over her. Stupid. Stupid, horny, loser—stop this. Now. This isn't right.

But it was too late. She had already crossed that line.

"See you soon," Bela sang, her voice lingering in Venus' ear before the call ended.

Venus dropped back onto her bed with a loud, frustrated sigh, eyes wide as her mind spun. "Shit," she muttered, the word barely making it out of her mouth before she was already thinking of that night in October, the feel of Bela's hands...and other things. But that wasn't what had her body on fire now. It was something else—the loneliness that had haunted her for months, the sharp pangs of desire that had nowhere to go. The regret and anger she felt for Dean were still there, raw and real, but they no longer had control over her. In this moment, only the pull of need mattered.

Less than five minutes later, a soft knock sounded at the door, snapping her out of her thoughts. Her breath hitched for a second before she bolted off the bed like she'd been electrocuted. Her room was neat—no surprise there, considering how she kept everything in perfect order, even her emotions...mostly. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror by the door, her hair falling a little messier than usual. With a quick yank of her hair tie, she fluffed it into place, then straightened up, forcing herself to look neutral, unaffected. Bela didn't need to know how excited she was for this.

Venus took a breath and reached for the knob, trying to force away the knot in her stomach.

"Took you long enough," Bela called out from the doorway, her voice playful and eager in equal measure.

Venus stepped aside to let her in, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Y'know, some people consider desperation a turn-off," she taunted.

Bela rolled her eyes, unbuckling the belt of her trench coat and letting it fall to the floor with quick hands. "If I remember correctly, it's quite the opposite for you," she replied smoothly, her eyes never leaving Venus'.

Venus locked the door behind her, then turned to face her. The way Bela looked in that hoodie and running shorts—casual, effortlessly sexy—made Venus' pulse spike again, but she couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out. "Oh, wow. You were actually gonna go for a run before I got you all hot and bothered."

Bela's expression softened just enough to show she wasn't impressed. With a flick of her wrist, she tugged off the hoodie, revealing the tight sports bra underneath, her body a perfect contradiction of soft and taut. "Are you going to keep talking, or take your shirt off?" Bela asked lowly.

Venus didn't hesitate. She grinned, pulling the hem of her t-shirt off in one fluid motion. And in an instant, Bela was on her, lips crashing into hers, hands already pulling at the sides of her bare skin.

Venus felt the heat of her body against hers as she lifted Bela's legs around her waist, turning quickly and slamming them both against the nearest wall. A surprised moan slipped from Bela's lips, but Venus silenced it with a kiss, her hands moving to unfasten the clasp of her sports bra with a practiced flick.

"The walls are thin and the boys' room is next door," Venus said against Bela's lips, the words half warning, half invitation. Her hand slid beneath the fabric, and she felt Bela's breath hitch, the slight tremor of her body making Venus' pulse race harder.

Bela's lips parted, her body giving in with a soft, needy moan. Her hand dropped to Venus' shoulder, anchoring herself to the touch before she closed the space between them.

"Good girl," Venus murmured, her voice hushed but heavy with the weight of everything that was happening, everything they were ignoring. She buried her face in the curve of Bela's neck, letting her hands explore, driven by an ache that hadn't been satisfied in far too long.

Dean and Bobby weren't the only ones who wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

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A/N: Don't ever let the love of your life stop you from finding your girlfriend guys...(I feel bad lowkey💀)

*sigh* Anyways. Vote! Comment! Drink some water!

Translations:
Nos vemos - Bye (But literally means 'We will see each other')
Cuídate - Take care

Lovely GIF banner up above made by the incredibly talented prodigybitxhhh

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