Supernatural Series Rewrite- Season 4

When the Levee Breaks- Part 1

Looking at your dad and Dean from the open iron door, you took a deep breath before turning back to the sleeping Sam. Every few hours you would come down here and give him some of your magic. If Amara said she would protect you, then this magic should protect Sam.

Taking the knife, you gripped it tightly before cutting your arm open the same way as you did the first time. Blood poured out and onto the floor, but you ignored it for now. Focusing really hard, your magic swirled from the cut and into the air. Seeing the bright blue color, it reminded you of Anna's grace since they were almost the same shade.

Staring at the magic, you watched it swirl straight for Sam and into his mouth, past his parted lips. Giving away this much magic was taking a toll on you, but you had to do this for Sam. Because of this, you had to give him small dosages every few hours since it took a lot out of you to give him a little.

Once Sam had enough, you placed your hand over your wound before healing it. Looking at his body, you saw the black glow around him get a little lighter in color which meant your magic was doing its job in detoxifying his blood. Maybe that is why you haven't gone darkside yet because your magic protects you from the demon blood inside you. Maybe that's why Azazel wanted you dead because he knew what you were capable of. Setting the knife down, you got up, only to be stopped by Sam's hand grabbing your arm.

"Let go, Sam," you said before ripping your arm from his grasp. Since he was weak, he let go long enough for you to make your escape. Leaving the room, Dean pulled you into his arms as your dad closed the door. Sam groggily got out of bed before trudging to the door.

"I'll give you guys a moment," your dad said before leaving the room. Through the barred window, you saw Sam's defeated look.

"Okay. Let me out. This is not funny," he sighed.

"Damn straight."

"Dean, Y/N, come on. This is crazy."

"No. Not until you dry out. My magic is healing you of it."

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you. Just open the door," he pleaded.

"You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. It's not your fault that you lied to us over and over again. I get it now. You couldn't help it," Dean shrugged.

"I'm not some junkie," Sam scoffed.

"Really? I guess we've just imagined how strung out you've been lately," you shook your head in disappointment.

"You're actually trying to twist this into some kind of ridiculous drug intervention?"

"If it smells like a duck."

"Dean, Y/N, I'm not drinking the demon blood for kicks. I'm getting strong enough to kill Lilith."

"This is about as far away from strong as you can get. Try weak. Try desperate. Pathetic," Dean growled.

"Killing Lilith is what matters. Or are you so busy being self-righteous you forgot about her?"

"Oh, Lilith's gonna die. Bobby, Y/N, and I will kill her. But not with you."

"You're not serious."

"Congrats, Sammy. You just bought yourself a benchwarmer seat to the apocalypse," you said with a smile.

"Dean, Y/N, look—no, wait—" Dean closed the little window so he didn't have to look at him anymore. Come back here. Dean! Let me out of here!" Sam continued to yell. Dean took your hand before leading you up the stairs back into the house, and when you reached the top step, Dean's face dropped in sadness. "Dean! Let me out of here! Let me out! Dean!"