You watched as Dean left the room, and you felt horrible. Your instinct told you to run after him, grab him in a bone crushing hug, and tell him all had been forgiven. That was your instinct, but you knew you wouldn't act on it, too much had happened recently, and you couldn't get past your fear or memories.

"Sam, are you sure that me coming back is the best thing for everybody?" You  tentatively asked, wanting nothing more than for everyone to be happy, for things to go back to the way they used to. You knew it couldn't happen, but you wished it would. You watched as Sam shrugged his shoulders, giving the answer you didn't want.

"I really don't know. I know right now he's hurting pretty bad. He's really beating himself up for what he did to you, and I was hoping that the two of you might slowly work things out. Help each other heal." Sam answered truthfully.

"But what if we can't work things out? Right now I can hardly stand to be in the same room as him. I still love him, but the second he moves towards me, I want to run screaming the other way. How can I get past that?" You asked, as you threw your stuff in your bag. You still planned to go with them, at least until you could figure something else out.

"I believe in you. I know in your heart you are already forgiving him." Sam told you, grabbing your bag from you, before holding the door open. You stepped outside, looking to the black Impala parked next to your Mustang. Dean was leaning against the passenger door, his legs crossed at the ankles, his arms crossed across his chest. The sun shown down, and this time you were able to get a good look at him. He had dark circles under his eyes, and thick stubble across his chin. His eyes looked dark and hooded, his way of hiding his emotions. He watched you without moving, as you followed Sam to your car.

"Do you want me to ride with you?" Sam asked. "I could drive. That way you could rest a little more."

You took Sam up on his offer, knowing you were in no shape to drive yet, but not wanting to leave your car behind. You watched as Sam moved over to his brother, placing his hand on his shoulder, speaking intently to him before turning back to you. Dean watched, before silently climbing into the Impala, and guiding it out of the parking lot, leaving you and Sam in his dust.

"Are you sure he's okay to drive?" You asked, wondering how much the cure had cost him, if Sam should be driving him instead of you.

Sam just shrugged. "You know Dean. And it's probably a good relaxer for him, he loves driving his car so much."

The two of you settled into your car, you chuckling at the sight of the giant of man sitting in the smaller, hatchback car. He didn't fit very well, and had to scoot the chair back so his long legs would fit.

The first part of the road trip was quiet, spent watching the scenery out of the front windshield, hoping for a glance of a shiny, black car in front of you. But Dean was long gone, probably pressing the Impala as hard as he could, getting as far away from you as possible.

Deciding conversation would be a welcome distraction from your troubled thoughts, you faced Sam. "Tell me how the rest of the curing process went after I left."

He took his eyes off the road for a moment, his eyes full of sadness and guilt. "it was tough. He wasn't responding like we thought he would. Each time we injected him, he would growl in pain, blacking out multiple times. I thought for sure I was killing my own brother."

Trying to comfort him, you placed a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing the tight muscles. "But you didn't. And now he's cured. Thanks to you, who never gave up."

Sam shrugged your hand off. "Yeah but now what? He can't even stand himself. He remembers everything Y/N, and it's eating him alive. I'm surprised I even got him to come with me to come get you. Ever since the black eyes disappeared, he's been locked in his room, his only company the newest bottle of whiskey."

You fell silent again, your heart breaking for Dean. Of course you had known he would blame himself for everything, but a small part of you had wished those memories would have been swiped from his mind.

"How do we move past this?" You asked out loud, not really expecting an answer from Sam, but he gave one to you anyways.

"I'm going to be there, for both of you. I know you've given Dean so many chances since he took on the mark. But maybe, just maybe, you can give him one more. If you forgive him, then maybe he can start to forgive himself."

While Sam was talking, you realized you were already back at the bunker, Sam was just pulling into the garage. The Impala was already there, empty just as you expected.

Climbing out, you grabbed your bag, before heading down the hallway, Sam close behind. Slowly moving down the hallway, your body still sore, you froze at the sight in front of you. Your body tense, you stared at the sight in front of you, memories flooding your mind. The door was still smashed, a huge, gaping hole in the middle. The wood chips on the floor were gone, but it was still a cold reminder of what had just recently taken place, and it had you frozen to the spot.

"Yeah, I haven't had a chance to replace it yet. But I've put the rest of your stuff in another room. It's the one directly across from mine, I hope you don't mind." Sam told you, before nudging you, and you were finally able to move, following him down the hall until he came to his door. You opened the one across, finding your items had been once again boxed up.

The room was much the same as any other. A full size bed in the middle of the room, a universal tan blanket covering it. Two nightstands were placed on each side of the bed. A dresser was against one wall, along with an arm chair. There were two doors on the other side, one leading to a bathroom, the other probably a closet. It was old fashioned, and impersonal, but you didn't care. All that mattered right now was climbing into that bed and falling into a deep sleep. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.