The cold, gnawing feeling of fear wrapped itself around her chest like a vice. The girl, her name lost to the wind, could barely process the words coming from the creature looming over her. The ground beneath her felt like it was sinking into the abyss, a dark void that threatened to swallow her whole. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, the blood pooling beneath her growing cold.

The creature's voice was soft but lethal, a cruel whisper in the stillness of the forest, wrapping around her like a vice. "You thought you could outrun me. You thought you could escape."

Her vision was blurry, the edges of her mind fraying as she fought to hold onto consciousness. The trees around her seemed to bend and sway, disorienting her, as if the world itself was turning against her. The shadow of the creature towered above her, its form indistinct, always shifting, but its presence suffocating.

"Why?" she whispered, barely able to lift her head. She didn't know if the word was meant for the creature or for herself. "Why is this happening?"

The thing only crouched lower, its eyes glowing in the dark, two burning eyes that seemed to pierce through her soul. "Because you were never meant to escape," it replied, its voice thick with malice and truth. "You were always mine. And you will always be mine."

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why she couldn't remember more, why the creature's voice felt so familiar, yet so foreign. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, drowning out everything else as a memory tried to claw its way to the surface. But it was too late. Her mind shattered under the weight of the truth it was forcing upon her. The lies she had believed for years crumbled, and she felt her grip on reality slipping away.

"I don't even know you," she whispered again, tears welling in her eyes. It was all she had left—a futile plea that no longer held meaning.

The creature's laugh was a low, guttural sound, a mocking reverberation in her head. "You will. In time, you will know me better than anyone else. And then, you'll understand just how pathetic you really are."

The last shred of hope she had—of a rescue, of escape—faded into the darkening sky. Her hand, still outstretched toward something, anything, slowly faltered, as the world around her seemed to close in. The blood beneath her, the leaves, the creature—they all merged together in a nightmarish whirlpool.

In her final moments, she heard its voice again, a whisper that would haunt her long after the darkness claimed her. "You can't outrun what's already inside you."

And then, silence.

She jolted from her side of the bed placing her hand over her heart to feel the increasing rate of her heart. The ringing in her ear was barely subduing after a few breath exercises. She needed comfort, but when she sought after it he was no longer there. Sam's side of the bed was cold and empty, Ruelle started to pick up her breath letting it go out in rapid exhales tears weld up in her waterline blurring her vision. Her hands are now grasping tightly at her throat as she choked up.

She didn't want to know it. Why her? Why couldn't she just be left alone in her dreams?

Her thoughts were cut short by the voices coming from the common area, one of them belonging to the person she needed the most and the other one was unknown. Ruelle stood up with shaking hands, her walk was unstable but it was subtle enough to hide it from Sam, it wasn't the first time she had hidden her mental state from him.

"Sam?" Her voice came out huskier than usual. However, it brought the attention of both men towards her. Dean's heartbeat started to skyrock, his hands were sweating by how much warmth his body was producing. 

"Sorry to wake you," Sam said softly, his voice thick with concern. He glanced at Rosemarie, pulling her closer to his side. "This is... this is Dean, my brother."

Rosemarie had already seen his face before, had already heard his name. Sam kept a photo of the two brothers on the shelf, a memento Bobby Singer had given him—a reminder of the bond they shared. She'd met Bobby in May, and despite the circumstances, she had genuinely enjoyed the brief time they spent together. Bobby had been kind to her, in his own quiet way, and there was a certain comfort in knowing that Sam had someone like Bobby in his corner.

As Sam turned to look at his older brother, he tugged Rosemarie closer, wrapping his arm around her protectively, his body language signaling that he didn't want to leave her alone with Dean, especially considering the older Winchester's reputation. Sam knew how Dean could be around women, and that was the last thing he wanted Rosemarie to experience.

"Dean," Sam said, looking at his older brother with a touch of exasperation, "this is my girlfriend, Rosemarie."

Dean's eyes flickered from Rosemarie to Sam, and for a brief moment, there was a twinge of disappointment in his expression. He quickly masked it, though, giving her a casual nod, his lips curling into a half-hearted smile. He was good at hiding things—years of experience had taught him that much.

Rosemarie felt the tension in the room thicken, her heart sinking as she looked between Sam and Dean. She knew something was off, something more than just the casual sibling banter. She was contemplating on turning away, unsure if she was intruding or not, Sam's voice stopped her.

"Whatever he wants to say, he can say it in front of you," Sam said, his tone firm, his eyes shifting between his brother and her. Rosemarie felt the weight of the moment, like she was caught in some unspoken battle between the two men. She didn't want to be the cause of any friction, but she also wasn't going to leave Sam alone with his brother if something important was happening.

Dean clenched his jaw, a hard look in his eyes as he glanced at Rosemarie, clearly not prepared for the presence of someone outside of the usual family circle. He hadn't expected the dynamic to change so quickly. Sam's life had shifted from hunting to building a future, a future that seemed... human. Something Dean hadn't been sure Sam could handle. And now, here was Rosemarie—beautiful, confident, and standing in the middle of it all, not fully understanding what was at stake.

"Dad hasn't been home in a week." Dean's voice was low, his words pointed as they left his lips, laced with something that felt almost like a warning. Sam's brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes searching Dean's face for a hint of something more.

"What do you mean? Dad's just working overtime, right? He'll stumble back sooner or later." Sam's words were heavy with frustration, as if trying to convince himself more than anyone else. The image of his father's absence, the perpetual silence he left behind whenever he disappeared for days on end, hung in the air like an unspoken truth.

But Dean didn't flinch. His jaw clenched harder, his shoulders rigid as he straightened his back. The air between them felt thicker now, charged with the history of unspoken words.

"Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a week."

The words were like a punch to Sam's gut. He dropped his hands from Rosemarie's waist, his whole demeanor shifting from the calm, protective boyfriend to the confused, uncertain son. His eyes locked onto Dean's, trying to find some trace of normalcy, some hint that this was just another of his father's unpredictable disappearances. But when he turned toward Rosemarie, his face was taut, and his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Can you give us a second, Rose?" Sam's words were soft, but there was a finality in his tone that told her this conversation was something he needed to have—something they needed to work through.

Rosemarie hesitated, her eyes flickering between Sam and Dean. She could feel the gravity of the situation, the shift in Sam's mood. She didn't want to leave him alone with his brother, but she knew this wasn't her place to intrude. With a reluctant nod, she stepped back, her heart heavy with worry as she turned to leave the room.

The door clicked softly behind her, and Sam was left standing in the middle of the living room with Dean. The tension between them, thick and unresolved, seemed to fill the space, stretching across the small apartment like an invisible barrier.

Dean wasn't sure how to begin. He could see the question written on Sam's face, the same confusion and hurt that Sam had carried for years whenever their father disappeared. But this time, there was something different. Something darker.

Dean finally spoke, his voice more pleading than Sam had ever heard it. "I didn't want you to find out this way, but..." He hesitated, his hands clenched into fists. "I need your backup in this hunt"

ROSEMARIE COULD FEEL THE HEAVY SILENCE THAT FOLLOWED Dean's words from earlier, a thick tension that seemed to press down on her chest. She had never seen Sam like this before. His stoic face, his usual calmness, now crumbled under the weight of what Dean had just said. The quiet in the room felt suffocating as Sam grabbed a duffel bag, his movements slow and deliberate. But Rosemarie's heart raced, a sharp pain twisting in her chest as she watched the man she loved slip further away from her.

The warmth between them, the shared promises of a future together, suddenly felt like they were crumbling. He had been hers to protect, and now, once again, his loyalty was being pulled toward a man who had left him broken, a man who had torn Sam apart for years, all while Dean had stepped in to pick up the pieces. Sam's father. She couldn't fathom the emotional weight Sam carried, the wounds that never fully healed.

She had always believed in the strength of family, in supporting one another no matter the cost, but this felt different. This wasn't just family love—this was something darker, something that came at a price she wasn't sure she was ready to pay.

"Is this a regular occurrence in your family, Sammy?" Rosemarie's voice was sharp, barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the room. Her words echoed in the silence, a mix of frustration, hurt, and confusion that had been building up ever since the moment Sam received the news, ever since his world had turned upside down once again.

Sam flinched at her words, his shoulders tensing, but he didn't respond right away. He kept packing, his back turned to her, though he could feel the weight of her gaze pressing down on him. 

After what felt like an eternity, Sam finally spoke, his voice low, barely above a murmur. "No, it's not... regular." He paused, the words tasting bitter as they left his mouth. "But it happens. It's what he does. It's what he's always done." His own words contradicted.

Rosemarie's heart sank as she took a step closer, not caring about the fragile distance between them. She reached out, her hand trembling as it rested on his arm. "And you're still going to him? After everything?"

Sam stopped what he was doing, his jaw tight. His eyes flickered with something unreadable as he turned to face her, the pain evident in his gaze. "I have to," he said, his voice rough. "He's my father. I can't just... leave him. He's... he's the only one I've got, Rose."

The words hit her harder than she expected. He was right, in a way. Family, no matter how broken, had a pull that couldn't be ignored. But Rosemarie couldn't help the feeling of abandonment that swirled in her gut. She had never had to carry that weight. Her family had always been supportive, always been whole. To her, it was unfathomable that someone would choose to go back to a toxic family dynamic, no matter how much they might try to convince themselves they had to.

"I understand why you have to go," she said softly, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice, but it was hard. She didn't know how to stay neutral when all she wanted was to keep him safe from whatever his father was still capable of doing. "But I am just worried, Sam."

His eyes softened at her words, but there was still a quiet determination behind them. Rosemarie's throat tightened as she looked at him, her heart torn in two. She wanted to support him, to be the one he leaned on, but this was different. She wasn't sure she could understand it. Could she watch him walk out the door and risk losing him to whatever leash his father had on him? Could she stand by while he went back to the very thing that had caused him so much pain?

"Then, let me go with you," she whispered, her voice cracking as she made the offer. "I don't care what's happened, Sam. I just... I can't sit here knowing you're out there, not with everything you've been through. Let me be there with you."

 Sam looked at her, the weight of her words sinking in. There was something about her offer—something pure, something that cut through the guilt and the doubt he carried. But in his heart, he knew that he couldn't bring her into this. He couldn't put her in the line of fire.

"No," Sam said quietly, his voice steady but firm. "I can't ask you to do that. This is something Dean and I have to do on our own."

 Rosemarie tightened her grip around Sam as she pressed her face into his chest, the sound of his heartbeat steady and reassuring, even if everything else felt uncertain. She was trying to understand, trying to accept what was happening, but there was a weight in her chest that wouldn't lift. She had always been there for him, always the support, but this was different. She was losing him, even if just for a few days, and it terrified her.

"What about the interview?" she asked again, her voice muffled as she spoke into his shirt. The interview had been something Sam had worked tirelessly for, and she knew how important it was to him. To just drop everything without a second thought—it felt like they were putting everything else on hold.

Sam exhaled deeply, his breath warm against her forehead as he shifted slightly, as though trying to offer comfort, despite the tension in the air. "I'll make the interview. This is only for a couple of days, Rose," he said softly. "He's probably just deer hunting up at the cabin. He must've gone with Jim, Jack, and Jose. It's just us bringing him back. Don't worry."

The reassurance felt hollow, even as he spoke it. Sam wasn't one for unnecessary explanations, but the words didn't do much to settle the gnawing doubt in her chest. He kissed the top of her head gently, his lips warm and tender against her skin, and for a moment, it almost felt like everything would be okay. Almost.

She closed her eyes, letting herself feel the warmth of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing, but even as she clung to that, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change in a way she wasn't ready for.

"I love you," she whispered, the words soft but sincere. She needed him to know, needed him to understand that she wasn't just some fleeting part of his life. She was here, for better or worse, for all of it.

Sam's arms tightened around her, and when he spoke, his voice was hushed, filled with the kind of emotion she didn't often hear from him. "And I adore you." His words held so much more than simple affection, more than just a promise. They carried the weight of everything unsaid, everything unspoken between them.

But Rosemarie felt the distance growing between them, even as they held each other. She could feel the pull of something else—something dark, something unresolved—that was threatening to tear them apart. Even so, she knew she would stand by him. Whatever came next, whatever road they had to walk down, she would be there, even if it meant sacrificing part of herself in the process.

"Just come back to me," she murmured, more to herself than to Sam. The words slipped from her lips without thought, a quiet prayer she couldn't help but offer up.

Sam squeezed her tighter for a moment, as though he could sense the fear in her voice. "I always do," he whispered back, though the uncertainty in his tone mirrored her own.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them in that fleeting, fragile moment. But Rosemarie couldn't shake the feeling that the storm was coming, and no matter how tightly they held on, it would soon be out of their control.

ROSEMARIE GRABBED A BAG OF COOKIES SHE HAD STORES AWAY  after Jessica had come over for their monthly sleepover and they had baked too many batches for them two alone. She walked out of her apartment to see her boyfriend putting his bag in the back seat of the black impala of his brother. When both brother's noticed her presence, they smiled at her. She lifted up softly the bag of cookies, "for the road, my friend and I made too many so hopefully you guys can enjoy them."

Rosemarie couldn't help but smile at Dean's infectious enthusiasm as he eagerly took the bag from her hands. It was impossible not to appreciate his energy, even if it was a bit overwhelming. Dean's bright smile reminded her so much of Sam when he was in one of his better moods. The way they both had that light about them, but there was something more in Dean's smile—something that hinted at the mischief he carried within him.

"Sweet!" Dean repeated, his voice full of excitement as he held up the bag like it was the best treasure he'd found all week. His eyes sparkled as he gave Rosemarie a playful grin. "You sure know the way to a man's heart, huh?"

She chuckled, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. The last few days had felt like they were slipping through her fingers. Sam was leaving. And even though she understood why, part of her still felt like he was slipping further away as he stepped into that car, into his brother's world. It wasn't easy watching him walk away, but she couldn't stop him. Not when it came to family.

"Just don't eat them all in one sitting," she teased, glancing at Sam, who was leaning against the car, his posture a little stiff, his expression unreadable. She could tell he was already mentally preparing for the trip ahead.

Sam gave her a soft smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We'll save some for you," he said quietly, but she knew he didn't mean it. The cookies were really for Dean, and that was fine. She was just happy to give them something before they left.

Dean, not missing a beat, gave her a playful salute, clutching the bag of cookies to his chest like a prized possession. "Don't worry, we'll savor every bite," he said with exaggerated seriousness, before pulling the top of the bag open and grabbing a cookie. "And don't think we're not grateful. This is the best kind of care package."

Rosemarie rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but laugh. Dean's antics made things feel a little lighter, even when the situation wasn't.

Sam walked over to her, his hand brushing against her arm as he leaned in. "I'll be back before you know it," he murmured, but there was an edge to his voice, something unspoken, as if he wasn't entirely sure of that promise.

She nodded, her smile faltering just for a moment. "Take care of yourself, okay?" she said, her voice quieter than usual, her heart heavy with the unspoken fears. "And come back in one piece."

Sam pulled her into a quick hug, his arms wrapping around her, though there was a certain stiffness to it, as though he didn't quite know how to leave her. "I'll be fine. Don't worry," he said, his voice laced with reassurance, but she could sense the uncertainty behind it.

Dean, noticing the silent tension between them, cleared his throat and straightened up, though his carefree demeanor didn't quite match the moment. "Alright, lovebirds. We're gonna hit the road before Sammy gets all mopey on me," he said, giving them both an exaggerated wink.

Rosemarie forced a smile, watching as Sam stepped back, his eyes lingering on her for just a beat longer before he climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala. The moment felt far too heavy, and she hated the way it made her chest ache.

Dean slid into the driver's seat, throwing her one last grin. "Take care of yourself, sweetheart," he said with a wink, before slamming the door shut. The engine of the Impala roared to life, and within moments, they were gone, driving off into the distance.

Rosemarie stood there for a moment, the sound of the engine fading into the night air, before she let out a soft sigh. The silence that followed was deafening, and it felt like the weight of everything pressing down on her.

She had given Sam her trust, but in the pit of her stomach, a nagging feeling lingered. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming, something far darker than she could see. The cookies, the goodbyes, the sweet smiles—they felt like they were all just masking something deeper, something that Sam wasn't telling her.

With a heavy heart, she turned back into the apartment, closing the door softly behind her. The weight of the world seemed to rest in the small space of her room, and no matter how much she wanted to ignore it, she knew that nothing would be the same when Sam returned. She just didn't know how different things would be.

[SO ANOTHER CHAPTER FOR YOU MY DEARS, HOPEFULY YOU GUYS LIKED IT. AGAIN WE DON'T SEE TOO MUCH OF HER ALONE, AND SOME OF YOU MIGHT THINK OF HER AS CLINGY BUT REMEMBER SHE ROSEMARIE NOT JESSICA,

THE BOND BETWEEN HER AND SAM IS DIFFERENT THERE IS MORE TRUST AND MORE OPEN MAKING IT EASIER FOR SAM TO EXPRESS MORE OF HIS HUNTER SELF WITHOUT BEING TOO FAR FROM THE TRUTH.

HOPEFULLY I GAVE SAM AND DEAN JUSTICED WHEN WRITING THEM

AGAIN MAKE SURE TO INTERACT FOR MORE UPDATES]

[UPDATED: turns out I forgot to delete a portion of the chapter that was my original attempt for how the plot was going to start with Rosemarie thinking that Dean is yellow eyes and daydreaming that he was there to harm her but than I was like nope scratch that but I forgot to delete what I had already written :(]