Surviving At Stanford

Chapter 13

As my surroundings came back to me, I flickered my eyes open to find myself lying on my bed. My head was pounding.

Sam was sat on the edge of my bed. "Carrie?"

"Hey." My voice was rough.

"How you feeling?" He asked.

"I've been better." I answered.

"What happened?"

"Got in a fight." I stated.

"Got in or started?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

I smirked. "Started. But she deserved it. Wouldn't have even been a problem if I hadn't of let myself get distracted. When the guy punched me, my head smacked off the floor."

"You've got a slight concussion." Sam explained.

"Meh, I've had worse." I shrugged with a smirk.

"You came in here a few minutes ago and passed out." He smiled softly at me Before leaning over and pulling me into a hug. "You had me worried."

"Sorry." I apologised.

Sam smiled once again. "It's okay." He pressed a kiss to my forehead before pulling away.

I could hear the door of the apartment opening before Dean walked into my room. He immediately sensed that something had happened.

"What's wrong?" He asked, walking over.

"Nothing." I answered.

"Slight concussion." Sam stated. "Passed out cause' of it."

"How did you get a concussion?" Dean asked.

"Look, will you two stop fussing over me. I'm fine."

"How did you get a concussion?" Dean asked again.

"Started a fight."

"Why?"

"Because I hate everyone in my English class, and Harriette's a bitch!" I explained, angrily. "She destroyed the book that Bobby bought me when I first moved in."

I could see Dean and Sam's anger rising.

"She did what?" Dean asked through gritted teeth.

"Tore it to shreds."

"You said her name was Harriette?"

I nodded.

Dean walked off.

"Dean?" I furrowed an eyebrow. "Dean!" I should after him uselessly, because he was out of the door in seconds.

-Third Person POV-

"Excuse me, are you Harriette Kingsley?"

Harriette turned and nodded, furrowing an eyebrow at the unfamiliar man stood in front of her. "Who's askin'?"

It was then that a punch landed across her face.

She gasped.

"My name's Dean Winchester, Carrie's boyfriend." He introduced, before grabbing her by the collar. "If you dare do anything to hurt her ever again, I won't be responsible for my actions! Do you hear me?!"

Harriette nodded frantically.

"Good." He let go of her collar and walked off.

-Carrie's POV-

Sick of Sam's fussing, I walked over to the library and was sat reading in the quiet room.

I could see the looks that the people in the library were giving me. They were all giving the same look. The look that everyone seems to give after seeing so many bruises on someone. That judgy look of presuming that I'm obviously some kind of low life scum that gets into fights for the fun of it. Fair enough, although I wasn't spoiling for the fight earlier, landing punches and having the crap kicked out of me sorta felt good. I didn't really care how they looked at me anyway. They can think what they want. I know that my life is screwed up, and I am as equally screwed up as my life is. Even my family and closest friend think I'm screwed up. Why else did they send me to a therapist?! I know that the therapist was trying to pull that whole 'you're not crazy, Carrie' but come on, have you looked at me? I had that perfect fantasy of a life in the time I spent with Bobby, then that went to crap too. I had a friend, and then he died too. My life is just one big funeral, cause' everyone around me dies! At first I thought that maybe I was just unlucky, but now it just looks like everyone is just trying to get away from me. I wouldn't blame them. The therapist practically laughed when I mentioned that I thought I was cursed, but I still think I am. How could I not be? Maybe that's why everyone stays away. 'Don't talk to the Singer kid, she's cursed.' 'Don't let her touch you, her touch will kill you!'

"You shouldn't think so badly of yourself." Spoke a voice that pulled me from my thoughts.

I looked up to see a guy in a trenchcoat stand in front of me. "You're the guy in the trenchcoat. You saved my life." I stated. "You shouldn't have bothered." I smirked sadly.

The man sighed. "You're headed down a dangerous path, Carrie. All this self loathing and hate, it's killing you. You need to talk to someone, like Sam or Dean."

I furrowed an eyebrow. "How do you know Sam and Dean?" I asked.

"There are some things that are probably best kept unknown." The man stated.

"How do you know their names?" I asked again, this time in a stronger tone.

"The same reason I know your parents names, the names of those who you call your parents, and the name of the friend you lost."

"Have you been stalking me?" I asked. "Researching me, trying to find out what you can about me."

"No. I am an angel of the Lord." He answered. "My name is Castiel."

I scoffed. "Yeah right, and I'm the fucking Queen of England." I stood up, putting the book down on the seat. "Leave me alone!" I stated before walking off.

"Carrie!" He shouted after me, but I ignored him.

Sat in a bar, I had managed to score a drink off the bartender after ten minutes of flirting with him. I felt bad at first, but the vodka made it better. Knowing that I had been lucky enough to actually get one drink off him, I thanked him before walking out of the bar and down the street towards the apartment.

"Hey Carrie!" I heard a voice shout.

Turning around, there was Harriette stood next to a much taller guy who I presumed to be her boyfriend.

"You're pathetic, you know that!"

I furrowed an eyebrow. "I don't understand."

"Oh, you don't understand." She scoffed. "You don't understand how you went to student support and reported me for bullying."

My eyes widened. "No, I didn't..." That guy must have gone to the board and told them for me. I'm gonna kill him!

"I've been suspended until my hearing next week. They're threatening to kick me out!" She shouted angrily.

"Hariette, I swear, I didn't go to student support." I stated.

"Oh you swear!" She mocked. "You fucking bitch!" She screamed. "Why don't you just do us and yourself a favour and just kill yourself?" Hariette walked off.

It was a fairly warm night, with a sky full of stars. The stars were my only audience, not that I needed one. Sat against the wall on the roof of the building, knees up to my chest as tears poured down my cheeks. Head buried in my knees, I wrapped my arms around my legs and just wished for everything to be over. All of it. No more deaths, no more crying, no more pain. That's all I wanted.

This wasn't the first time I had considered doing this. After my parents died, I sorta' lost any sense of hope and just wanted it all to be over. But I was too chicken. This time is different.

"Why don't you just do us and yourself a favour and just kill yourself?" I've lost count of how many times my brain has repeated that to me. Mocking me for not having the balls to go through with it.

I scoffed. I can't even do my own suicide right.

Banging continued to ring out from the metal door behind me, just as it had since I had come up here.

"Carrie!" Dean and Sam's panicked voices shouted. "Carrie!"

Hearing Dean only made more tears fall as I looked up and over at the door.

"Carrie..." His tone was softer now, more desperate. "Please...You don't have to do this."

I sniffled, before getting my feet. "I'm sorry..." I answered in a weak, tearful tone.

"Carrie..."

I stopped dead on the spot. Slowly turning, Bobby was stood just across the roof from me. He walked over and stood in front of me. Reaching out, he placed his hand on my cheek and wiped away a tear with his thumb.

I leant into his touch, closing my eyes.

"Carrie..." He said once again.

I opened my eyes, looking up at him.

"This isn't the way."

"Bobby, you're dead." I finally plucked up the courage to state.

"Took a bit of focusing, but it all paid off in the end." Bobby explained.

"So it's really you?" I asked.

He nodded with a soft smile. "It's me."

Still crying, I reached out my hand to take his but it simply passed through him. I gasped and looked up at him.

"This physical connection only works one way, Carrie, and I'm not strong enough to hold it. I'm sorry." He stated in a saddened tone before turning to the door. "Now either you open that door, or I will."

I shook my head. "You don't understand, Bobby."

"Then tell me, Carrie. How is this the answer?" Bobby's tone rose slightly.

"What do you want me to say? That everything's magically going to be okay now because you've somehow managed to come back from the dead to talk to me." I asked. "Is the fact that I can say a sentence like that without a hint of sarcasm not worrying enough? I know how to kill vampires, werewolves, ghouls, and a whole other bunch of things that go bump in the night, I've killed a wendigo with a can of deodorant and a lighter, I've lost count of how many people I've seen get salted and burned! Hell, I've even done it a few times myself when I was on a hunt with Sam, Dean and John. I can exorcise a demon, make a hex bag, even paint a friggin' devil's trap!" I shouted. "Nothing about my life if normal!" I stated.

"I know..." Bobby nodded, his tone soft and sympathetic.

"The strange part is though, it's not the whole hunting thing that I want to escape from. If anything, that's the one part of my life that I can actually understand. It's the pretending that everything's going to be okay, and just pretending that my life isn't just one big train wreck. Everyone thinks I'm a freak, and who blames them? I mean, like I said, I hunt things for a living, and actually enjoy doing it." I paused and turned away from Bobby, walking towards the ledge and taking the container out of my pocket.

"Carrie!" Bobby rushed towards me.

"Bye, Bobby." My weak tone spoke before I threw the contents of the container at Bobby.

He dissipated as the salt hit him.

Taking deep breaths, I stepped up onto the ledge, glancing down at the streets below feeling nauseous at the sight of the drop, but knowing that this was for the best.

"Carrie..." A new voice spoke.

I closed my eyes. "Cas..."

"Please step down from the ledge." He stated softly.

"Why?" I asked, my tone strong.

"Because you are better than this." Cas answered.

"How?" I questioned. "How am I 'better than this'?"

"What you are about to do, it won't end the suffering, not really." He stated. "The two men trying to break down the door over there, they will end it...Truly end it."

I glanced back at him.

"They can help you, Carrie." Cas continued. "They can end your suffering, you just have to give them the chance."

"Carrie!" Dean and Sam's voices screamed as I heard the door finally open.

"Please, Carrie." Cas almost begged.

"Carrie..." Sam spoke up. "Please, just step down from the ledge." His voice was shaky and tearful. "Please, we can help you. I know you're thinking that this is the only option you have right now, but I'm telling you that it isn't. Dean and I, we're gonna' help you through this...Please...just step down from the ledge."

"You're just gonna' make me see that therapist again." I stated, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"No." Sam answered in response. "No more therapists. We're gonna' take care of you. Me and Dean."

"I'm here for you too, Carrie." Cas spoke up once again. "I'll always be here for you."

"What, like a guardian angel?" I asked with a slight smirk.

"Whatever you want to call it, I'll be there."

I looked back at the drop.

Taking his chance, Dean ran across the roof and grabbed me, pulling me back from the ledge, tumbling to the ground with me in his arms.

Hysterically sobbing now, I buried myself into him and cried.

"Shhh, shhh, shh..." Dean cood softly. "It's okay, it's okay, you're safe now, you're safe."

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