Rewrite Of Supernatural Series: Season 1

Faith - Part 2.

'This is John Winchester,' came John's voice over the phone, 'I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean, (785) 555-****. Or call my daughter, Y/N, on (865) 717-****. They can help.'

'Hey,' you said awkwardly. 'John, this is me, Y/N, um,' you laughed a little, the laughter soon dying out. 'Uh . . . so, sorry, about the very demeaning and rude message I left you before. I know it was mostly in French and Latin, but I was basically cussing you out. Not to mention, that English part was not too appropriate either . . . So, yeah.'

You cleared your throat, 'You probably won't even get this, but, uh, it's Dean. He's sick and, uh, I thought it was my, um, moral obligation . . . to, uh, inform you what I was cursing you out for.

'See, the doctors said that there's nothing they can do. Um . . . but, uh, they don't know things that we know, right? Um, so, don't worry, because Sam and I, uh, we're gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. All right, just wanted you to know.'

You paused, feeling like you should say more. So, you did. 'And I still hate you for whatever you did to me, but, uh, I only contacted you for Dean and well, to let my frustration out, and uh, if you can help or anything . . . it would be really, really appreciated.

'But don't worry! Because, as it turns out, this useless monster, does have a back-up plan . . . And it's you know . . . trading my life for his, by that transfer spell Dad taught me,' you chuckled, rubbing your neck awkwardly.

'I just . . . if I don't make it, please . . . please, meet the boys again. They love you, and . . . without you, they're lost. They need you . . . um, yeah, I think that's it. Just . . . take care, or whatever . . . and I'm not saying this because I care about you or anything. N'uh-uh, I hate your guts . . . but, uh, the boys need you to take care of them. You've always been a shitty father to them, so, when you see them again . . . just don't be . . . well, John.

'Yep . . . rot in hell, you!' you told him. 'Bye.'

You were sitting at the table that was right next to the main entrance. You hadn't slept for three days straight, which really wasn't anything new. You had been going through lore books, you had been calling to other hunters for help. You had been scouring every possible lead. You even called Bobby, but since he picked up, you couldn't actually curse him, you had to actually, like, behave and shit - which had annoyed you, but you did it for Dean, anyway.

Other than that, you were just waiting. Waiting for B/F to get to you those herbs so you could feed it to Dean and secure your backup. In case anything went sideways, the least you could do was transfer the fucking problem to yourself and keep the man you loved breathing.

Not too long ago, your friend had texted you, saying that she had landed, and was on her way over to this place.

You put your hands on your head, exhausted. You had no call-backs from any of the hunters and time was slipping from your hands as if grains of sand. What if you got no alternate solution? Then, you'd die.

You had always thought you had wanted to, but you never could do it, because deep down, you wanted to live. But now, you knew you'd die for Dean. There would be no hesitation. This time, it would really happen. This time, you would really die.

A knock on the door made you jump up and dash to the door. You swung open the door of your motel room. And on the other side of the wood, stood B/F, with her b/f/h/c, b/f/h/l hair. Her b/f/e/c eyes shone brightly upon seeing you. She pulled you into her embrace without giving you even a second to think. 'My bitch!' she laughed heartily upon seeing you, hugging you tightly.

You returned it, almost crying out. 'It's been so long,' you muttered into her shoulder, smiling as she pulled away from you. You wrinkled your nose, 'You smell.'