Andi may be free from the clutches of the yellow-eyed demon, but that doesn't mean her future is in the clear. Johns gone. The colt's gone. Her relationship with Dean is up in smoke, and the parting gift Azazel left her with makes hunting him a hard...
"Am I headed for my own damnation? Am I alive or am I just breathing?"
Make Believe by Memphis May Fire
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Bobby Singer may have been a hard ass and a crotchety old bastard at times, but over the last few weeks, the man had somehow found a way to cement himself into my life. And right now, despite the pride I took in being able to take care of myself, I was okay with that. I needed someone like him in my life. Not because I was lonely and everyone else was gone, but because he was the only person I knew who could talk sense into even the most stupidly stubborn people.
Like me.
If it hadn't been for him, I would have been on the other side of the world by now, living what was left of my best life on a beach with a fruity little drink in one hand and a middle finger on the other.
Azazel screwed me, and he screwed me hard.
I may have been free from his hovering and constant torment, but I wasn't free of him. I wasn't sure I ever would be. We were bonded in a way no bullet would ever change. It was ironic that John traded it for my freedom because that bullet was the very thing that would take the freedom I thought I had wanted so badly away.
After everything I had been through - everything I had done to rid myself of that yellow-eyed bastard, I was still tethered to him. But this time it wasn't so simple.
It was a life for a life.
And of course, the bastard held on to the little tidbit of information until after he and John sealed the deal. Not that it would have changed the outcome. In the end, regardless of whether or not John had spent his last minutes bartering for my future, my fate was sealed.
"I die, you die," the bastard told me. Who would have thought the only thing keeping my lovesick ass on this earth was him and whatever power he played with to pluck me from the pits of hell time and time again.
It was a kick in the face with a six-inch stiletto.
But if I was being completely honest, finding out my days were as numbered as his were, was nothing compared to how it felt when Dean Winchester looked me dead in the eye after his father died and asked me what the hell I had done. If there was a world record for the amount of time it took for someone to fall out of love with someone, he would hold it.
In two seconds he exchanged our three little words for something different.
When he looked at me it was no longer 'I love you', it was 'time of death'. It was no longer 'I need you', it was 'It's your fault'.
And there wasn't a damn thing I could do to change that.
Words failed me. I was so broken over the fact that after everything we had been through, that that demonic bastard still had a clutch on my life, that I couldn't even bring myself to defend my innocence.
