Chapter Text
And I've been trying hard to forget the taste of your name on my lips
To unlearn the sound of your voice in my ear, to unfeel your touch on my skin
But some things it seems no matter how you try, are not meant to be erased
()()()()()()
Abigail,
There are a million ways to say I'm sorry, but none of them will ever be enough. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. And I will continue to do so long after I am gone. Remember that when you are angry, when you are sad, remember it too when you are happy and when you laugh. Remember that I loved on the good days and the bad. Remember, because one day I am sure you may try to forget, but I beg you to remember instead. Because in the end, that is all I am. Your big sister, the one who loved you to the very end.
Love,
Jules. Yours xx
()()()()()()()
I remember screaming. I remember the sound as it echoed from my mouth. I remember thinking that it was not the sound of me. Not the voice of who I am. I remember the feeling of flesh tearing away from bone. I remember the sting, the smell of copper, and the burn of my body bleeding out its warmth. Finally, I remember feeling sleepy, and the dark and how willingly I let it come.
I should have spent my years learning to be wicked. I should have learned how to give up the heart. You see, they string you up. They cut you down. They make you hollow, they bleed you out. They pull. They poke. They stab in all the places that you'd rather they couldn't see. They strip you until you are ruined, bearing no resemblance to something with humanity. They reside inside your head. They whisper sweet secrets of misery. They twist your memories into nightmares and make you beg to forget.
And one day you do.
There is no such thing as a soul unable to break.
You see, hell is for the damned, and I should have lived a life worth burning for.
()()()()()()()()
Could you ever have sympathy for the monster?
Could you ever listen long enough to know their story?
Or do you hate them simply for what they've become?
()()()()()()()()()()
I was fifteen the first time the devil came to me.
You may not believe in such things, but sometimes you don't have to believe in order for it to be true.
The devil was handsome, with a hint of mischief behind pale blue eyes. The devil handed out promises like it was the one thing that he was built to do. The devil was a lover, and I had always been a fighter.
So, when he whispered ways to save my baby sister. I held on tight to the hand he cinched around my heart like it was a lifeline. Because it was.
Abigail was sweet, and she was just a baby at ten years old. A baby with a curse. Stage four bone cancer. Osteosarcoma. Which meant my baby sister was dying; cancer was slowly taking over her body, one small piece at a time.
But the devil swore I could save her. I could stop it all. All I had to do was promise that in ten years I would give myself to him. And really, those pale blue eyes didn't look so bad. That crooked smile, not so scary. And his smooth crooning voice? Well, it didn't make me want to say no.
So I said yes.
I was fifteen years old the first time I agreed to kill myself.
()()()()()()()()()
Abigail Morgan was scurrying to grab her books, her coffee, and her keys. And I was an asshole. Because I was not bothering to tell her that I knew exactly where her keys were. Instead, I smiled as she raced past me, her eyes wide and searching.
Okay, maybe I wasn't that much of an asshole. I only let her search frantically for a few minutes before I cleared my throat and waited for my baby sister to slow down enough to notice me. “Ahem.”
“What?” She practically hissed as she came to an abrupt stop to stare at me.
“Your keys?”
She narrowed her eyes at me as she stomped closer, yanking them from my open hand. “How long were you planning on just letting me run around in a panic before you said something?!”
I shrugged. “Till right now.”
“You're the worst.”
“No, I'm not.”
She rolled her eyes at me before taking a deep breath. “You're a little bit the worst.” But she was smiling as she said it.
“You love me.” I smiled back.
“Only a little bit!” She was back to rushing, making her way to the front door. Not even bothering to glance back as she called to me over her shoulder.
Abigail Morgan was in her second year of medical school. She was in the top 10 % of her class. She was going to do something great with her life. And the best thing I ever did, was save her.
I sighed after the door slammed shut and Abby was gone. Being alone meant I didn't have to pretend everything was okay. Because it most certainly was not.
Two days ago the visions began. Horrible, frightening images. Images that reminded me of how quickly ten years could pass you by. My ten years were up. And I was going to die.
I didn't know it then. I didn't understand at fifteen what it meant to give yourself to the devil. I was too naive to know that it meant you'd be taken. You'd be taken in the most awful of ways.
Now, that is not to say I wouldn't have still said yes. Because knowing doesn't change the fact that the best thing I ever did was save my baby sister.
()()()()()()()()()
Whiskey makes most things better. I was drowning in whiskey today.
“Jules!”
I twisted around to find my sister shooting daggers at my head. “What?” I half slurred back.
“You almost drank the whole damn bottle.” She came closer, lowering her voice to a small hiss. “What is wrong with you?”
I licked my lips and tried to shake my head, but the motion made me feel sick. I didn't want to be sick. “Nothin.”
Abby sighed as she crouched down and slowly reached a hand out. Her fingers skimmed across my arm, down to my wrist, over my hand, and finally landed on the bottle. She tugged gently, and I let my death grip loosen just enough for her to take it from me. “I'm sorry about Joey. But you know this was your idea. 'Let's get the family together, let's have a nice dinner, let have a good time’, you said.” She pursed her lips at me. “But you had to go and get all drunk. Now everyone's staring. Aunt Candice thinks you have a drinking problem!”
I laughed at that. Like I cared what Candice thought, she was always a snob. And Joey? “It's not about Joey,” I answered ruefully.
Abby rolled her eyes as she seated herself beside me on the bench instead of kneeling down in front of me. “Well, if it was about Joey... I'd understand. You two were together for five years. And then...” She shrugged her shoulders.
She didn't understand why it suddenly ended. And neither did Joey. But in my defense, I had assumed hating someone you had once loved would be easier to move on from, rather than grieving over the loss of the supposed love of your life. I frowned. Too bad I wasn't brave enough to deploy the same trickery on my sister. I loved her far too much to make her hate me. Or maybe it wasn't about love, but more about being selfish. I needed to see how much she loved me too.
“No. Abby. No.” My eyes glazed over as I glanced out toward the crowd of family and friends that had gathered here today. This was goodbye. They didn't know that though.
It made me happy to see them all one last time. Our parents, uncles, aunts, little cousins and our last remaining grandparents. Our family littered our back yard, and for the most part, our family was good, our family was happy. I smiled as I watched my mom throw her head back, laughing at something my dad had said.
“Jules?” Abby nudged my shoulder, drawing my attention back to her, and I searched her face. “Oh god. Julia! Why are you crying?” She wrapped her arms around me in the hug I so desperately needed.
“It's... I love you, Abigail.”
Abby pulled away from me, holding me at arm's length. “You're scaring me.” Her eyes scanned my face as she bit her lower lip lightly
I shook my head as I waved her off. “Don't be scared.” I tried to smile and not wince as her face morphed into something dark and evil for not the first time that day. It felt like I only had a few hours left. I could feel my life ticking away by the seconds. Though I knew I had until the clock struck midnight. I had done my research; I'd read more than I ever should have.
“I'm just... I'm fine.” I nodded at her, my lame attempt to assure her that everything would be fine.
The truth was. Nothing was going to be fine.
Only be five short hours later, she would find my body sprawled across the floor of our bathroom.
She would sob in hysterics, not understanding the wounds inflicted on my body, the animal-like scratches that would cut me to the bone. She would scream my name. She would beg the heavens above. And in the end, it wouldn't matter, it wouldn't stop the blood pouring out of me, and it wouldn't bring me back from the depths of hell.
()()()()()()()()()()
Time works differently in hell.
Hours feels like days. Days like months. Years like centuries. I don't know how long it took;, I don't know how many lifetimes had passed before he came.
Dean Winchester.
I remember the first time he stood before me. I remember thinking, this boy is being punished, just as much as I am. I remember because he looked at me with such care, with such agony.
Those first few times, he had winced with me. He had felt every blow to my body that he had inflicted as if they had landed on him and not on me. He'd shaken with ugly sobs every time he was done, he had fallen to his knees. He'd begged for it to stop. He was different then. He wasn't this version of himself, the one he had now become.
I hold onto that. I hold onto that first him. Not the one in front of me today. Not this Dean. You see, the devil was trying to break him. The devil won. Dean Winchester broke, and now it was my turn.
“Julia.” Green eyes stared down at me. His freckled face only inches from my bruised and beaten one. His hands were the weapons. My body his favorite thing to use them on.
And I didn't want to see his face. I didn't want to breathe his smell. I didn't want to know the feel of his skin. I didn't want any of it, so I tore my gaze away from his face and studied the stone floor beneath us.
“Come on. You act like we're strangers.” Dean smirked as he took a step back. “And we are not strangers.”
Slowly I lifted my eyes back up to his. I wondered if I would ever see the old him again. I slumped against the chains that held my hands up above my head. My legs were achingly tired. I was tired. I was always so tired.
Dean's laughter sent chills racing up and down my ruined body. He was in a mood today; who knew why.
“Julia.” Dean clucked his tongue as he spun in place, his attention focused on the table behind him. Weapons were scattered across it:. Knives that prodded, wires that cut, metal that scorched. Anything horrible you could imagine. Today, my eyes narrowed in on the weapon Dean selected, a tiny needle, something perhaps you would find in a doctor's office. Though this was no doctor's office, and I was no patient.
It was worth it. It was worth it. Every jab, every stab, every cut inflicted on me. It was worth it. It was worth it.
“Come on!” Dean roared against my ear, as his hand steadied itself against my body. “Jules. Come on.”
My breath caught as he slowly pierced the flesh just below my rib cage with the needle. I watched his Adam's apple bob as he took a nervous swallow. I blinked, was that something close to sympathy?
Dean broke the trance between us as he pulled away, taking the needle with him as he went. His shoulders slumped and he lifted his eyes to the ceiling above us. I did the same. Screaming.
Everything was screaming. The hairs on the back of my neck stood tall. Dean flicked his eyes to me. Confusion raced through them. What the hell was happening? I winced as the screaming turned to something inconceivable. So loud. So demanding. It coursed through my entire body. It was blinding. No. The screaming wasn't blinding. The room was blinding. Brilliant white, so bright I had to close my eyes.
The screaming turned to angry whispers. Whispers that filled my mind, making it impossible to think. “Dean Winchester must be saved.” Over and over and over again.
And I was screaming too. Screaming to drown out the agony filling the room.
And then just like that it stopped.
Everything was gone. Dean was gone. The chains were gone. I was gone.
()()()()()()()()()
My hands groped wildly at my surroundings. I was in a box. I was in a goddamn box! I tried to scream as I pounded a fist against the wood. But my voice cracked, and all the pounding did was knock down dirt onto my face, which made me sputter and choke.
No no. No. What was happening? My lungs burned as I tried to slow my breathing. I had to think. I needed to think.
Slowly my eyes adjusted to the dark. I swallowed back bile, as I realized. I wasn't just in a box. I was in a casket. I was in a fucking casket. No doubt, my own.
Was this a sick joke? Was this a new way to break me? Confinement in the sickest way possible? I closed my eyes and counted down from a hundred. It was just another cruel game, that was what the devil was good at. He was good at playing games. I nodded my head. Yeah. It was a game.
Except. I opened my eyes again and scanned the box. What if it wasn't?
My fingers pried at the fabric that lined the box beneath me. Tugged until it tore. I used my nails to scratch at the wood, until I managed to reveal a screw. I pulled and pulled and twisted the screw with all of my might until I managed to get it just a little bit loose. This was useless. My heart pounded against my chest. So, what they brought me back to life, only to have me die again... buried in my own casket?
I blinked back tears. No, I wanted to fight. I was a fighter... right? I shook my head and pulled again at the screw. My fingers were bleeding, worn raw from all the twisting, but if I could just pry the screw out, then maybe I could scratch my way to the surface? Except, even I didn't believe that. I needed help.
I closed my eyes and let out a small cry. I needed help. “Please. Please.” I whispered the word over and over again. “Julia Morgan must be saved too. Please.” Talking was wasting the air around me. But I had to get the words out of me, the silent accusations in my head... they needed to be expelled. So I screamed with all of the anger I ever had held onto. “Dean Winchester must be saved, and so should I... Julia Morgan must be saved too dammit!” It poured out of my mouth like a command.
I screamed myself to exhaustion, and then I cried until my body fell into sleep. I was so tired.
My eyes fluttered open and I held my breath when I first heard it. The wailing sound. Oh god. Panic filled my lungs as I realized this had always been a joke, and they were taking me back again.
“No!” I pounded a hand against the lid of the box. “Please no!”
I had to slam my eyes shut as the screaming became unbearable and light suddenly filled the small space around me.
My body felt like it was being ripped through time. Like I was floating, yet moving at a speed too fast to be real. And then it stopped. I was left with my ears ringing and my head pounding with a single word echoing in my mind. Castiel.
Cautiously I opened my eyes. I was sprawled out in the middle of a field. It looked as though a bomb had gone off, and I was at the center of it. I squinted down at my body. I was in a silver dress with a single black bow wrapped around my waist. I frowned at my shoes, I hated high heels, but that's exactly what were on my feet.
I licked my lips as I fully took in the scenery around me. It wasn't an open field. It was a cemetery, and most of it seemed to have been destroyed. Tombstones were overturned, flowers left behind by loved ones were tossed carelessly away. And some caskets were now even exposed. Fuck.
I stood slowly on wobbly feet, and finally lifted my face to the sun above me. Oh, the feel of it after so many years of darkness, was unexplainable. I smiled up into the sky as I inhaled deeply, the smell was heavenly. So much better than the damp musty air of the cells I'd spent the last fifty years living in.
Finally, I attempted a clumsy first step. No. I frowned down at those damn high heels before kicking them off. I contemplated leaving them behind before eventually deciding to bend down and scoop them up. Someone had given them to me for a reason, right?
I walked in the direction that would lead me to town. I'd grown up here. I'd died here—I stopped at the sudden thought. Oh god. But—how do you go back to being alive after being dead? My heart galloped as my mind raced with questions. How long had it been? Was my family even alive? And if they were—how would I explain my sudden return from the literal grave? Fuck
I turned in place, my eyes scanning everything. I was alone, but I didn't feel alone. It felt like eyes were on me. And I couldn't have that. I couldn't be seen. I ran a hand through my hair and mentally cursed myself for believing even for a second that I could just go home.
I almost laughed as I pictured it. The happy reunion. “Oh hey, Abby! Just back from the dead—no big deal.”