REVOKE ▸ d. winchester [1] ✔

Chapter 32

Sam's POV

My light sleep is interrupted when I hear shuffling on the other side of the room. Sleeping in the panic room with Jackie, I had only just fallen asleep after taking over for Bobby, promising I'd come get him if Jackie woke up.

"Jackie?" I mutter, turning my head on the pillow at the head of the cot I lay on. I see Jackie's figure sit up on the cot we had moved her to and slide to the edge, appearing to be getting up.

I quickly sit up myself, running a hand through my hair and down my face in attempt to wake up. "Jackie, hey," I say as I stand up and walk towards her, glad to see her finally awake. As I appear in front of her, I ask, "How are you feeling?"

I knew she would be out of it- I was after Castiel removed the angel grace from myself before- but I had at least expected her to answer me. Or do something, anything, for that matter.

"Are you okay?" I get no answer. Thinking against it but doing it anyways, I wave a hand in front of her face. I feel ridiculous, but she doesn't react. She only blinks unresponsively.

Her bare feet dangle off the edge of the bed, hovering just above the ground. Slowly, she slides off and takes a few steps away. Lightly grabbing her arm, I stop her from moving.

Her lips move in such a way that I just barely see them move. Watching for a moment, I notice she seems to be repeating the same thing over and over. What, exactly, I have no idea- she only whispers the words and makes no sound.

"Hey, Jackie, are you awake?" I ask, continuing to feel slightly awkward as I do so. She only keeps moving forward, and not wanting to put up a fight, I let go of her arm.

Her eyes are glazed over in a passive way, not seeming to focus on anything as she makes her way out of the panic room and up the old, creaky basement stairs. I follow behind her quietly, watching her stiff, unmoving body as she takes each step carefully. I consider trying to wake her from her trance, but go against it. I can't help but be curious as to what she was doing. Jackie had never mentioned sleepwalking before, had she?

Shoving open the door at the top of the stairs, she walks into the kitchen but then stops abruptly. For the first time since we've both woken up, I hear a sound come out of Jackie.

At first she mutters, and from my spot in the doorway, I don't understand what it is she says. From her tone, though, it sounds as if she were arguing with someone. Her voice slowly rises, and I am finally able to make out her words.

"No- leave me alone."

She goes quiet for a moment, but I stay in my secluded spot watching. I knew she was having weird dreams, but Castiel said removing the grace should help. Obviously this was-

"Stop!"

I nearly jump at her raised and aggressive voice. Her eyes are still open but show no reaction to the words coming out of her mouth- they still show the same blank stare she woke up with. It was as if whatever she was saying had nothing to do with whatever she was seeing here.

Hallucination, then?

She shuffles her feet and then starts walking at a slow, steady pace into the living room. As she passes by me, her face, which had carried a stiff, blank expression this whole time, has changed. But only slightly. Her eyebrows are now creased downward in a grimace.

Knowing Jackie, I automatically know what caused this. She only ever has that one, specific expression on her face when she's scared- I've seen it when she and Dean came back from finding her house burned down, when her father's death became reality. From the weeks Dean and I have known Jackie, both of us have gathered that she hates being scared. Whether it be showing it or just feeling it, she refuses to have to carry it with her. But when she is scared, we've come to know this by one single tell: creased eyebrows in the slightest, most specific way. Every time.

Jackie continues her conversation with herself. I only make out a few words here and there since most of it is a jumble of whispers and mutters. She has turned herself so that her back faces me, and all I get from her is her quiet voice.

"I don't want to be scared."

Hearing her say this so clearly and out loud makes my heart clench- she sounds broken, tired. I have no idea if she is aware of what she's saying, but I have no doubt that what she is saying is true. Those words hurt to hear, knowing that Jackie doesn't always say how she feels, but hearing them was absolutely nothing compared to what I felt when I saw her take her next action.

I wasn't sure on what Jackie was even doing right now. Sleep walking? Hallucinations? But seeing her pull that black revolving pistol out of Bobby's desk drawer, my mind automatically assumes the worst.

"Woah, woah, Jackie," I find myself saying as I enter the room cautiously, hands raised slightly in a nonthreatening way. It's clear that she can't even see me, probably can't hear me either, but its the only sure thing I can do at this point. I don't want to startle her and make her do something she'd regret.

She turns around. From the time she had walked into the living room to when she turns to face me, tears have begun to fall, now rolling down her cheeks. All the lights are off in the room, but the porch light floods though the window. Her tears reflect off her skin in the light.

"Jackie!" I say louder, trying to break her out of her trance. "Jackie!" She doesn't look at me or even seem to hear me.

"This isn't real," is all she whispers.

I walk toward her, planning to shake her awake, scared of what she was planning on doing with the gun resting limp in her right hand. But after only two steps, she moves the gun. I stop dead in my tracks.

The barrel of the revolving pistol now rests firmly on her right temple.

I freeze and watch as she stands there in the hazy light, eyes squeezed tightly shut, tears continuing to make their way down her face. Her arm shakes as she grasps the gun so tight I'm scared the trigger would go off before she even pulled it herself.

"This isn't real. This isn't real." She whispers repeatedly, beginning to shake even harder.

"No, no it's not," I tell her calmly, begging for her to hear me. But she doesn't.

"Dean!" I yell, hoping to wake him up and get him down here, along with Bobby. Maybe they'd know what the hell to do, cause I sure didn't.

On the floor above me, two feet thump against the wood flooring, and soon enough, they are thundering down the creaking stairs. Dean stops in the middle of his descent, gun in his hand, wearing his sweatpants and a white T-shirt.

"Dean, she won't wake up," I tell him, exasperated.

He bolts down the stairs but slows to a halt next to me at the sight of the girl in the middle of the room. Behind us, Bobby's own feet sound on the floor from the kitchen, having heard me from his own room down the hallway and coming to investigate.

"Jackie? Hey, put down the gun," He tells her calmly, not knowing she can't hear him. When he gets no response, he turns to me. "She's crying- Why is she crying? What is she doing?" He rambles.

"Jack, what are you doing?" Bobby's own voice breaks out over the ruckus Dean was making. His voice cracks as he asks. At the sight of a gun to Jackie's head, held by her own hand, even in the dim light I can see Bobby's shoulders droop slightly in angst.

"She can't hear us, she's dreaming or hallucinating or something. She just woke up and came upstairs like this!" I practically yell, trying to get them both to understand.

My yells, however, are cut off by Jackie's new one.

"No! Stop it!" Her voice shakes from the tears.

Then, as suddenly as this all began, her finger moves over the trigger of the gun. None of us can even take a step towards her before she does so. No one can stop her.

And we're just as helpless as her finger clenches, pulling the trigger.