Confetti it's a Parade Book 2

Don't Forget the Pie

"Dean, how do you feel?" You asked, watching as he glanced around the small motel room. His eyes were wide as he took in every small detail of the place. The thin lamps, the ice bucket currently filled with quickly melting ice. He glanced at the small fridge underneath, and the flannel shirt he had thrown off last night. Each item he was used to, but to look at him he had never seen them before.

"I feel off," he admitted, seeming much more small and insecure than you ever wanted to see him. "My mind, it's...," he couldn't finish his thought.

"You know we'll find a way around this. We always do," you assured him as you sat down next to him on the bed. Resting your head against his shoulder, you laced your fingers in his.

"Y/N, but what if we don't?" He answered. "What if my mind slowly begins to fade away until I don't even remember you?"

"You'll always remember me," you insisted. "Now why don't we watch some mindless TV while Sam continues to search.

Time passed slowly, your head resting on Dean's chest while he chuckled softly at the cartoon in front of him. The sunlight filtering through the curtains slowly started to fade away, and Dean stood up with a groan. Walking over to the table, Dean stood in front of the lamp, his mind suddenly blank. "Do you want me to turn on...the...turn on the...," he stuttered, at a loss for what it was called.

"That's a lamp," you told him, reaching for the pile of sticky notes. Writing the simple word, you weren't surprised when a teardrop landed on the yellow paper. Dean's memory was going fast than either of you wanted to admit, and you were worried. More than worried, you were emotionally a wreck. Watching the man you love slowly fade away in front of your eyes. Seeing how scared he was. You weren't sure how much more you could handle.

"You're right!" He exclaimed, trying to hide the fact that he was as upset as you. "And this is a...cold keeper type thing. Right?"

"It's a fridge," you whispered, closing your eyes for a moment as you took a deep breath. Standing up, you quickly labeled each item, wondering how long it would be before you were labeling yourself as well.

"Dean, do you remember how we met?" You asked him, nervously nibbling on your lip. Watching as a multitude of emotions crossed his face as he searched for the moment that would forever be etched into your mind. At first he was sure he knew the answer, his face lighting up with glee. But the glee slowly faded away to confusion, and then worst of all...despair.

"Y/N, I don't remember," he admitted, his breaths coming rapidly as he fought against the panic no doubt eating him alive.

"It's alright," you tried telling him, even though both of you knew that was a lie. If you didn't find a cure, and soon, Dean would be gone. Trying to show courage for Dean, you fought back the tears and panic that wanted to course through you. Just then Sam decided to return, his arms ladened with books. "I'll be back," you mumbled, pushing past Sam. You needed to get out of that room before it became too much. It was already the hardest thing you've ever had to handle, and you knew it was just going to get worse.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you walked away from the motel, just needing to clear your head. People stared, but you didn't care. They didn't understand the pain you were going through.

It was almost ten minutes later when you finally had enough. Knowing you needed to turn around and head back, you were about ready to when you noticed the building you had stopped in front of. Nana's pies. Like an omen, it seemed exactly what you needed. Stepping into the small bakery, you quickly picked out a pie, hoping this would make things better. If only for a moment.

With the freshly baked pie in your hand, you hurried back to the motel room. And to Dean. You needed to be by his side now, no matter what happened. With door number 24 in your sight, you reached into your pocket for your keys when you realized they had been left behind in your haste.

Knocking on the door, you stared down at the pie, your sweet tooth hoping that Dean would share a piece with you. The seconds ticked by before the door swung open, and Dean stood there. His eyes looked even more vacant than before, as he stared your way, and you knew that leaving had been the wrong decision. Ever second mattered, and you had just waisted 15 minutes on yourself.

"Dean, look what I found," you told him, holding up the pie. He glanced down at the perfectly baked pastry, staring at it with distaste.

"What is that?" He asked, not coming close to recognizing his favorite food.

"It's pie. You love pie," you insisted, pushing it closer to him in desperation. Hoping that he would recognize it, and things might slightly return back to normal.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I've ever had pie," he said, turning his attention back your way. "And...who are you?"