【Ａｓｈｅｓ Ｔｏ Ａｓｈｅｓ】

-ℕ𝕠 𝔼𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕖-

Air freshener.

It's the first pungent fragrance to invade her senses once she shakes the fog from her mind. Floral, she thinks, hints of wildflowers hidden beneath the aged metallic smell from the aluminum can it was once held within. (y/n), once more consumed in the frigid darkness that lay beneath her closed eyes, instinctually sniffs the stale air that surrounds her until her nose scrunches in discomfort. There were humans here, those hairless apes she grew strangely fond of who bathed this unfamiliar room with an earthy musk so potent that the air freshener seemed to be drowning in its odor. Finally allowing herself to open her eyes, squinting at the pale yellow light embedded into the popcorn ceiling above her head, the woman takes in shallow breaths of air through slightly parted lips. Expecting that familiar tug of pain from the minuscule action, (y/n) is pleasantly surprised to find that her body is only able to offer the dull ache of regrown flesh and bone. She was finally healed, her brief comatose state providing her the energy she had been deprived of during her month of continuous torture.

"Will you just listen to me, please?"

A voice. Baritone and filled with concern. Although muffled and distant, the footsteps that accompany it grow louder with each step they take, and based upon the grumble that follows soon after, there must have been at least two behind that thin motel door. Not wanting to explain herself to human beings who may be less than hesitant to believe a word out of her mouth, (y/n) shuts her eyes and forces herself to lay as still as a corpse upon the spring mattress beneath her.

Click

The lock turns. The doorknob beneath it quickly mirrors. Ears straining to pick up on their hushed conversation, a pair of bodies hastily make their way into the room before shutting the door behind them. (y/n) listens as the man from before begins to speak again.

"We can't just keep her here, Dean." he asserts, moving from one side of the room to the other as he continues. "She needs medical attention and she needs it now."

"You don't think I know that?" the one called Dean hisses out in frustration, (y/n) listening as he throws open the door to the mini-fridge near the foot of the bed she lay on. "Those cops were on our asses, Sam, we have to lay low for a bit."

"How long is 'a bit'?" Sam questions through a scoff, Dean popping what sounds like a metal cap off of a bottle.

"A couple of hours. We'll wait for the sun to come back up and the police chatter to calm down."

"And what if she doesn't make it 'til then?"

"Then she doesn't make it, Sam!"

There's frustration here, a bitter regret that punctuates every word before an uncomfortable silence falls upon the room. Laying there as still as she can manage, (y/n) anxiously waits beneath their sudden focus as they both look upon her bloodied form through saddened eyes. Seconds pass before they speak again, a sigh that breezes past Sam's lips encouraging the other man to reignite the conversation.

"I want to help her as much as you do..." Dean slumps down into a chair a few feet away, running a hand through his hair. "But we have to worry about ourselves too. We can't risk getting thrown into the slammer, especially now."

Sam's voice is quiet, filled with such a pang of potent guilt that it takes the woman by surprise. "I know, I get it. I guess I just wish we could have gotten there sooner, you know? Maybe we could have saved her before she was like this."

"We couldn't have known, Sammy, we can't blame ourselves for what happened." Another pause, filled with less tension than the first, before Dean clears his throat and stands up with a groan. "You hungry?"