Supernatural - Chapter 46: May 2 (Patreon)

The outer defenses lasted a little longer than Murphy had expected.

She and Sam covered the entrances around the house. They'd reinforced the front door, side windows, and back door beforehand. As long as the hellhounds remained outside, the two of them could keep them at bay through the doors and windows.

Sam carried a shotgun loaded with salt rounds. Murphy had one too, with the Colt tucked separately at her waist and the demon knife close against her other side.

She wasn't planning to use either special weapon unless she absolutely had to. There were so few Colt bullets left that wasting one on anything less than a serious threat seemed foolish.

She could see the hounds prowling back and forth across the yard.

Since the ritual to break the contract had been interrupted, they seemed less desperate to get inside. Every so often one approached to test the barriers, only to retreat from the goofer dust and devil's shoestring before trying another spot.

Their patience was infuriating.

“One on the right is moving,” Murphy reported, following a dark shape with her eyes. “Toward the back door.”

Sam shifted positions at once. His lower back had been rebandaged, and he could walk well enough, but any sudden movement still hurt. He was noticeably slower when he ran.

Murphy noticed, but she didn't bother nagging him. He wouldn't listen anyway.

A dull thud came from the back door, shaking its entire frame. Sam waited until Murphy pinpointed the hound before shooting. His salt round struck it squarely and sent it tumbling, but it was back on its feet almost immediately.

“It's backing off.” Murphy searched for the other two. “One at the front door, another at the left window, and...”

The glass rattled violently. This time, the frame itself began to come loose, and both of them turned toward it.

The first ten minutes or so had gone reasonably well. Everything they'd prepared was doing its job, and the hounds couldn't get inside quickly.

But their defenses wouldn't hold all night. Worse, the hounds clearly had more patience than they did.

As the minutes dragged on, sweat gathered across Sam's forehead.

Murphy had just called out a position near the front door when she turned and saw him steadying himself against a table.

“Hurting?”

“Not too bad.”

“Tell me if it gets worse.”

Sam caught his breath and raised the shotgun again. “I know.”

Murphy frowned. His injury had only recently reopened, and putting himself through all this couldn't be helping. From then on, she checked on him almost as often as she watched the hounds.

The safe room lay farther inside the house, behind two additional lines of protection. Dean couldn't make out what Murphy and Sam were saying, only the gunshots that sounded from the outer rooms now and then.

That was almost worse than seeing the fight. When the shooting stopped, he wondered whether something had gone wrong. When it resumed, he found himself counting the shots, wishing he could see through the walls.

Bobby stood watch beside him. His expression was just as grim, though he was managing to stay put.

Two shots rang out from the living room, followed by silence.

Dean held out as long as he could. “Don't you think it's been quiet too long?”

Bobby listened for a moment and looked up. “Not even a minute.”

Dean checked his watch. Bobby was right.

It only made him more restless. He started pacing again.

Outside, Murphy had just helped Sam force a hound back when she heard tires crunching across gravel.

A car was coming.

She turned sharply, and Sam followed her gaze. An unfamiliar dark sedan approached along the road and stopped beyond the yard.

At this hour, with three hellhounds guarding the house, there was no chance an ordinary visitor had dropped by for a late-night call.

Murphy set her shotgun within reach and drew the Colt. “Get ready.”

The weariness vanished from Sam's expression as he tightened his grip on his weapon.

The driver emerged a moment later, a tall woman in her twenties with long, pale-blond hair hanging down her back.

She wore everyday clothes, a light top beneath a thin jacket. From a distance, she could have been any young woman returning home alone from a friend's get-together.

Yet the three hellhounds in the yard stayed perfectly quiet. Not one made a move toward her.

Murphy abandoned her last scrap of hope.

“Lilith.”

Sam's face hardened too.

The woman was already approaching the house.

They'd changed the timeline too much for Murphy to expect Lilith to arrive in Ruby's body, as she had in the original story. The identity of her host was beside the point. The terrible part was that Lilith had come anyway.

With a casual gesture, Lilith shattered the front door, exposing Sam and Murphy standing guard inside.

She noticed the Colt in Murphy's hand. Her steps faltered, and some of the lazy confidence left her face.

“Looks like Bela really did disappoint me.”

Murphy gave her a cold smile. “I imagine she's disappointed you quite a few times.”

She pulled the trigger before the last word had faded.

Lilith was ready. The bullet slowed dramatically as it approached her, stopped dead in midair, and dropped to the floor.

Murphy had expected as much. She was shifting her wrist to find another angle when an invisible force wrenched the Colt sideways. Murphy herself didn't move, but she nearly lost her grip, and the muzzle struck the doorframe hard.

Her stomach sank. She clamped both hands around the gun.

So Lilith couldn't move her directly, but she could snatch objects from her hands. Shooting again would be pointless if she couldn't keep the weapon aimed.

Murphy slid the Colt back into its holster and drew the demon knife instead. Lilith's eyes followed the blade, and her expression turned distinctly more irritated.

Sam fired at her at the same moment.

His salt round never came close. It was deflected in midair, and an instant later Sam was flung against the wall. The impact aggravated the freshly dressed injury in his back, sending a savage jolt of pain through him.

“Sam!”

Murphy took an instinctive step toward him, then forced herself to stop.

Sam remained pinned to the wall, struggling harder and harder to breathe. Keeping her eyes on Lilith, Murphy gripped the demon knife and retreated slowly toward the far side of the entrance hall.

There was another devil's trap concealed there.

She didn't expect it to hold Lilith for long. If it freed Sam and gave Murphy even one chance to get close enough to use the knife, that would be enough.

Lilith followed, just as she'd hoped.

She clearly disliked the blade and kept her distance, but she had no intention of letting Murphy escape.

Murphy continued her unhurried retreat until Lilith stepped onto the faded rug in the middle of the hall. Then she stopped.

The devil's trap hidden beneath the rug took hold at once, freezing Lilith in place.

The force pinning Sam vanished. He dropped to the floor, pain blazing through his lower back, but managed to reach for the shotgun lying beside him.

Murphy was already charging at Lilith with the knife.

For the first time, genuine alarm crossed that otherwise unreadable face.

The point drew closer.

Lilith jerked her shoulder but couldn't break free.

The knife was about to strike when the window beside them exploded.

“Murphy!”

Sam had barely shouted her name before a massive black shape burst through the broken glass.

Murphy had to pull back and dodge. The hound hurtled past her, its claws narrowly missing her waist. Sam's salt round struck a heartbeat later and sent it sprawling.

It scrambled upright again almost at once.

Murphy glanced at Lilith, still trapped inside the circle, and then at the hound coming for her. She didn't hesitate. She drew the Colt.

The gunshot cracked through the house.

The bullet struck the hound square in the chest.

Murphy watched the huge dark shape freeze, then disintegrate as though something were burning it from within. It disappeared completely before it could finish its last growl.

She blinked.

Sam had noticed her expression. “What is it?”

“Dead.”

“What?”

“The Colt can kill them.”

A crash came from the front entrance before she could say more.

Murphy whipped around.

The other two hounds had broken in.

Everything changed. Moments ago, they'd been struggling to hold the creatures off with salt and goofer dust. Sam still couldn't see them and had to rely on Murphy's directions, but now their salt rounds could be used to set up a killing shot instead of merely delaying the next attack.

“On your right!”

Sam's shotgun blasted the charging hound into the wall. Murphy was already raising the Colt.

Another shot, and another shadow vanished.

The last hound grew frantic. After circling the room, it suddenly lunged at Sam from the side. Murphy saw it perfectly but had no time for a detailed warning. “Duck!”

Sam dropped his head instantly.

The bullet passed close above him.

The third hound vanished less than two paces from him.

Suddenly, the house was quiet.

Sam stayed crouched for a couple of breaths before looking up. “Are they gone?”

Murphy swept the room with her eyes.

“Gone.”

For the first time that night, they'd actually killed all three.

She barely had time to enjoy the victory before a quiet laugh came from behind her.

She spun around.

Most of the markings beneath Lilith's devil's trap had already blackened.

Lilith glanced down at the few intact lines remaining. The caution had vanished from her face, replaced by obvious annoyance.

She took a step forward, and the markings split.

With her second step, the entire trap burned into a blackened ruin.

Murphy immediately raised the Colt.

Lilith wasn't about to give her another opening.

An invisible force seized the gun. Before Murphy could squeeze the trigger, it flew from her hands, hit the corner of the wall, and slid beneath an overturned cabinet.

Murphy's expression darkened.

Lilith smiled and waved casually toward the yard.

A few seconds later, low growls sounded outside again.

Murphy turned in disbelief. Familiar dark shapes had reappeared in the yard, emerging one by one from behind the wall and the parked car. Including the last hound coming out of the darkness, there were four.

One more than before.

Her brief sense of triumph evaporated. Her fingers tightened around the demon knife.

She badly wanted to bury it in Lilith.

Sam couldn't see outside, but her suddenly grim expression told him plenty. “More?”

“Four this time.”

Sam was silent for a moment, then his face fell as well.

They'd struggled so hard to kill those first three, and they hadn't even been given a chance to catch their breath. Lilith merely stood beside the ruined trap, watching them with a thin, mocking smile.

Apparently, losing three hellhounds meant nothing to her.

The four new hounds approached the house.

This time Murphy had lost much of her confidence. The Colt was still under the overturned cabinet, and Lilith would never let her retrieve it. They had plenty of salt rounds, but those could only repel the creatures, not destroy them.

Sam raised his shotgun again, slower now because of his injured back. Murphy took a position slightly ahead of him, demon knife in hand, keeping one eye on Lilith and the other on the shapes in the yard.

“Two coming from the right.”

The remaining section of front door folded inward under an impact.

Sam fired twice where Murphy directed him. The first hound was knocked back, but the second used the opening to get inside. Murphy dodged and snatched up the remaining goofer dust, scattering it at the creature.

It recoiled sharply. She hadn't even exhaled in relief when the side window shattered too.

The difference between three hounds and four was immediately obvious.

Before, they'd been able to defend one door or window at a time. Now there was movement everywhere. Sam could shoot only where Murphy told him, while she had to keep dodging. More than once, she nearly mixed up left and right.

Lilith looked more relaxed by the minute.

She hardly needed to lift a finger herself.

Murphy knew exactly what she was waiting for. Eventually they'd tire, Sam's injury would give out, or one of the hounds would finally get its claws into Murphy.

It was enough to make her furious.

Another hound leaped through the doorway. Murphy avoided it, then noticed that the space between herself and Lilith was momentarily clear.

A rare opportunity.

She tightened her grip on the demon knife and ran straight at Lilith.

The demon's expression changed instantly.

A cabinet door flew at Murphy. She ducked aside without breaking her stride.

She was a single step away from Lilith.

Then a low growl sounded behind her.

Murphy went cold.

She turned too late.

Claws raked down from her right shoulder across her back. At first she felt a chilling numbness. Then pain exploded through her, and the force sent her flying sideways, her ribs striking the corner of a table.

The collision felt almost worse than the claws.

For several moments, she couldn't draw a breath. The demon knife landed a few steps away.

“Murphy!”

Sam fired in the direction where she'd fallen, guided by instinct and the sound of the attack. The salt round drove the hound away, but his sudden turn wrenched his back again. He staggered and caught himself against the wall.

Murphy knelt on the floor for several long seconds before she could force air into her lungs.

Pain spread from her shoulder down her back, and the slightest movement of her right arm pulled at the torn flesh. Worse was the impact against her ribs, a deep ache that sharpened whenever she tried to breathe properly.

Sam hurried over. “How bad?”

“I'm fine.” She gritted her teeth, sat up, and glanced at the blood on her clothes. “I can move.”

She reached for the demon knife and picked it up.

Sam plainly didn't believe that she was fine enough to move, but the remaining hounds were closing in. They had no time to argue.

He helped her to her feet and brought his shotgun up again once she was steady.

In the safe room, Dean heard Sam call Murphy's name in a voice so different from before that he knew something was terribly wrong.

He could see the hellhounds now. Even from the hallway, with only part of the living room visible, he knew exactly where that shadow had landed.

Then came the sound of Murphy hitting the table.

Dean couldn't stay seated another second.

“She's hurt!”

Bobby had heard it too, and his expression was just as grim. His job was to make absolutely sure Dean survived, but outside there were more than shots and doors being battered. Sam and Murphy were clearly running out of strength.

Several more shots rang out.

Dean had already reached the final protective line. “How much longer are you going to make me sit here?”

“You stay put.” Bobby stood up with his shotgun.

Dean immediately tried to follow.

Bobby barred his way. “I'm going out. You stay behind the line.”

Dean looked furious. He closed his eyes, opened them again, and finally let the argument drop.

Bobby had no time for another warning. He pulled the door open and hurried out.

With a third person shooting, the pressure in the outer room eased for a moment.

Bobby couldn't see the hounds, but he could hit whatever Murphy pointed out. Together, the three of them forced the nearest two back, allowing Murphy a few breaths against the wall.

Lilith had no intention of letting them recover. She watched their struggle with easy amusement, and the instant Bobby's arrival began to help, she raised a hand.

Sam had just reloaded when an unseen weight slammed him into the wall.

Bobby turned his shotgun toward her, but a table flew sideways and struck him first. He went sprawling, losing his gun.

Murphy instinctively started toward them, then froze after two steps.

Every remaining hellhound had turned toward her.

She backed away with the demon knife held tight. Her shoulder was hurting worse by the second, and lifting her arm pulled at the injury across her back. Every breath also brought that heavy ache in her ribs.

Even dodging was much harder now.

She barely avoided the first hound before another cut her off from the side. Forced to change direction again and again, she soon found herself farther from Sam and Bobby.

Lilith was obviously orchestrating it.

Sam remained pinned against the wall, his chest crushed by an invisible weight until he could barely breathe. Bobby, thrown aside by the table, needed two attempts just to prop himself up. Neither could reach Murphy.

Bobby had left the safe-room door open in his rush to help. Dean stood behind the last protective line, able to see most of the living room through the doorway and the hall.

For once, he wished he couldn't see a thing.

Blood had soaked a large part of Murphy's clothing as the hounds forced her farther and farther back. Sam was immobilized, and Bobby's gun lay several paces from him. Dean could only watch from behind the line, painfully close to them and utterly useless.

He'd never felt so trapped in a place designed to save his life.

Of course Dean wanted to live. Just not like this.

Not while Sam, Murphy, and Bobby fell one after another outside, leaving him to hide there until midnight passed.

Murphy retreated again, and the closest hound lowered its body to spring.

Dean crossed the protective line almost at the same instant it lunged.

“Dean!”

Sam's shout rang out from the far side of the room.

Murphy heard too, turning sharply toward the doorway.

The four hounds surrounding her reacted faster than anyone else.

As though they'd rediscovered their true target, they turned together, abandoning Murphy where she stood.

Dean saw the foremost hound crouch to attack him.

He knew perfectly well what ought to happen next.

But it didn't leap.

It stayed poised for several seconds before slowly lifting its head. The others also stood motionless, as though they'd suddenly lost sight of their prey.

Dean stared.

A moment ago the house had been deafening with gunfire, crashes, and growls. Now everything was abruptly still.

Sam was the first to notice something else.

Lilith's power still held him against the wall, but the wound in his lower back had suddenly stopped hurting. The familiar burning pain vanished completely, and the renewed bleeding seemed to slow and stop as well.

He blinked and instinctively felt his lower back.

At that moment, Bobby noticed something changing in the middle of the living room.

The parchment everyone had forgotten was still where they'd left it. But the blood mark on its surface was moving all by itself.

No one was chanting anymore, and part of the ritual circle had been destroyed in the fight. Yet the streak of blood crept along the remaining lines, past the point it had stubbornly refused to cross hours earlier, until it reached the space beside Dean's name.

The writing split down the middle.

Bobby stared at it for two seconds, then forgot his pain and dragged himself closer for a better look.

“It's broken.”

Dean was still staring at the strangely motionless hellhounds. He didn't understand. “What's broken?”

“The contract.” Bobby checked it again, his voice shaking with disbelief. “Your contract's broken.”

Murphy stood frozen. Her first instinct was to look for Sam.

He was feeling at his lower back, his astonished expression telling her everything she needed to know.

The wound had stopped hurting.

Murphy finally let out the breath she'd been holding all night. She was still standing there with a demon knife, her shoulder and ribs aching and her clothes covered in blood. For the moment, none of that seemed important.

Dean was alive. So was Sam.

Even the hellhounds in the house had fallen silent.

The silence lasted only a few seconds.

Lilith let out a cold laugh.

Every nerve Murphy had managed to relax went taut again. She turned to find Lilith staring at the broken contract, her face twisted with anger.

“Continue.”

That was all she said.

The hounds that had been standing still began to stir again.

Murphy's face changed as the foremost creature sprang at Dean. Bobby was too far from his shotgun to retrieve it, so he grabbed a bag of goofer dust and flung its contents into the air. The hound swerved in midleap, giving Dean enough time to dodge.

Their moment of relief was gone.

Murphy tightened her grip on the demon knife and turned her attention straight back to Lilith.

The contract was broken. Hell no longer owned Dean's life. But as long as Lilith stood here, the hounds wouldn't stop attacking.

Murphy charged her.

Lilith had been watching for just such a move. An overturned wooden chair rose into the air and hurtled toward Murphy. She dodged, only for the movement to wrench her injured ribs. The pain slowed her by a fraction.

A terrible feeling seized her.

A growl sounded right beside her ear.

She had barely turned before a huge shadow filled her vision.

Claws ripped across the side of her abdomen.

For an instant, she didn't even feel the pain, only the impact that flung her across the room and sent her crashing to the floor. The demon knife flew from her hand and slid away across the boards.

Then the pain arrived in full.

Murphy curled up sharply, struggling to breathe.

Her shoulder and back already hurt badly enough. Now it felt as though her side had been torn open. She pressed a hand against the wound without thinking, and her palm immediately grew hot and wet.

When she looked down, she stopped in shock.

Blood was pouring from the wound, soaking an enormous patch of her clothing within moments.

“Murphy!”

Dean's voice came from beside her.

Without hesitation, he ran toward Murphy, but another hound sprang into his path. Bobby had finally recovered his shotgun and fired almost alongside Dean, knocking the creature away before it could reach him.

By the time Dean dropped to his knees beside her, the hand Murphy held against her side was covered in blood.

“Murphy, look at me.” His hands were trembling, and so was his voice.

She could hear him. The pain simply made talking seem like far too much trouble. She managed only a few shallow, sharp breaths.

Sam saw everything.

Lilith still held him pinned against the wall, crushing his chest until he could barely breathe.

He'd just watched Dean walk out of the protective circle of his own free will. Now Murphy lay bleeding on the floor, with Dean kneeling beside her and seemingly unable to decide where to put his hands to help her.

Bobby couldn't hold off the remaining hounds alone. Something caught his injured foot and dragged him violently across the floor.

The pressure that had been building inside Sam all night suddenly seemed to burst.

He couldn't even have said what he intended to do.

He only knew Lilith had to stop standing there.

An instant later, the pressure pinning him vanished.

Sam fell to the floor without warning, his knee striking it hard. At almost the same moment, Lilith flew backward, hitting the wall with a heavy crash.

Everyone in the room froze.

Sam was as astonished as the others.

He pushed himself up, still unable to understand what had happened.

Lilith understood before he did.

Her contempt vanished for the first time. Her eyes turned completely white as she raised a hand to crush Sam against the wall again.

But something moved faster than she could. Her body slammed back into the wall instead.

Sam's breath caught.

Only then did he recognize where that force was coming from.

Himself.

The realization brought no relief. His thoughts were a jumble. He didn't know how to control it or what he'd done right. He could only stare at Lilith and cling instinctively to the unfamiliar sensation.

Don't let her move.

Lilith began to tremble.

A thin thread of black smoke escaped her mouth. More followed, dragged out by an invisible force. Genuine panic finally appeared on her face as she struggled desperately against it.

Sam was suffering too.

Pressure swelled against his temples, his vision blurred, and a warm trickle began running from his nose.

He didn't even know where to put his hands. He stood staring at Lilith, pushing that strange power against her entirely by instinct.

More and more smoke poured from the blond woman's mouth.

Lilith was truly frightened now.

Then a tremendous shock wave exploded through the room.

Sam was thrown backward and landed hard on his back. Chairs, tables, wooden boards, and shattered glass flew with him. The connection he'd barely managed to hold snapped completely.

He grunted in pain and began pushing himself upright, just in time to see Lilith turn toward him.

There was no trace of the calm she'd worn when she entered.

A great cloud of black smoke erupted from her host's body and fled straight through the broken window into the night.

The blond woman crumpled onto the floor, suddenly unsupported.

As Lilith disappeared, the remaining hellhounds vanished with her.

No one had the slightest interest in where she'd escaped to now.

Dean was kneeling beside Murphy, both hands covered in her blood.

“First-aid kit!”

Bobby had only just managed to sit up. His injured foot made him wince when he tried to put it down. He pointed toward the doorway. “Under the cabinet!”

Sam scrambled to his feet and hurried over, dragging out the kit they'd prepared beforehand.

Dean hadn't moved from Murphy's side by the time Sam brought it back.

The wound in her abdomen looked worse than before. Blood had soaked her clothes completely. Even with Dean pressing down, it continued to seep between his fingers, turning his wrists red.

“More gauze.” Bobby leaned against a wall, unable to stand on his injured leg. Between painful breaths, he told them what to do. “Keep pressure on it. Don't let up.”

Sam knelt on her other side and emptied out everything they could use.

Murphy was still conscious.

But her face was growing paler, and cold sweat covered her forehead. The furrow in her brow, which had been so deep with pain, was beginning to ease.

That frightened Dean even more.

“Murphy, look at me.”

He called her name again. His hands were shaking so badly that even keeping pressure on the wound was difficult.

She managed to open her eyes.

When she saw Dean, she seemed to want to speak. Her lips moved, but only a faint breath escaped.

Dean's eyes filled with tears.

Suddenly he remembered the year before. It had been May 2 then, too.

Sam had lain in his arms, blood covering his back, his body growing colder by the second. For every day of the year that followed, Dean had known he'd pay for saving his brother when this date arrived.

That was why he'd always assumed he would be the one to die tonight.

He'd even made his peace with it.

But he'd never imagined seeing Murphy like this.

There was more blood on her than Sam had lost last year. Her shoulder, back, and abdomen were soaked, her clothes almost unrecognizable. A terrible red stain spread across the floor.

Only moments ago she'd been running at Lilith with a demon knife. Now she lay before him, growing too weak even to keep her eyes open.

The same familiar terror swallowed Dean whole.

He'd lived through it once already.

He couldn't bear to do it again.

Not just when he'd learned that he still had a future, just when he'd started believing they might all survive, only to watch another person slip away in his arms.

Dean lowered his head, and at last the tears fell.

One landed beside Murphy's face. She seemed to feel it, her eyes focusing for an instant.

Dean reached out to wipe it away, then realized his fingers were covered in blood. His hand stopped helplessly in midair.

In that instant, he remembered something from long ago.

There had been that hunt involving a witch, when he'd lain poisoned in bed, freezing and barely able to open his eyes. Murphy had stayed beside him. Once she'd made sure he was still breathing, she'd bent down and placed a featherlight kiss on his sweat-soaked forehead.

He'd kept his eyes shut and said nothing, clutching the sleeve of her shirt instead.

Now their positions were reversed.

Dean bent close and kissed Murphy's forehead with desperate care.

Her skin was icy beneath his lips, damp with cold sweat.

That small difference in temperature nearly broke him.

“Please.”

His voice had gone completely hoarse.

Murphy seemed to hear him.

Dean rested his forehead against her hairline. Another tear fell.

“Don't leave me.”

He paused.

“Don't leave us.”

Murphy's lashes trembled faintly.

For some reason, a sentence from her black notebook rose unbidden in Dean's mind.

[If I don't come back, you'll know how to use this notebook.]

He'd once read it aloud just to tease her. Now he hated every word.

What did she mean, if she didn't come back? Who'd given her permission to prepare for that?

“Keep your stupid notes and use them yourself,” Dean said, almost rambling as he fought to keep his voice steady. “I'm not reading them for you. Sammy won't want to either. So you have to come back yourself.”

Murphy could probably no longer make out the words.

All she knew was that something warm had touched her forehead.

And afterward, something wet.

She wanted to open her eyes to see, but her eyelids were growing unbearably heavy.

Bobby interrupted them. “We have to go. Now.”

There was nothing to gain by staying in the house.

Sam and Dean did their best to bind the wound and maintain pressure. When Dean bent to lift Murphy, he moved with almost rigid care, terrified of hurting her somewhere else. Even so, a faint groan escaped her as he picked her up.

“I'm sorry.”

The words came out of Dean instinctively.

Murphy no longer had the strength to answer.

Baby tore out of the yard moments later.

Dean drove, with Bobby in the passenger seat giving directions. Sam stayed in the back, holding Murphy partly against him and pressing firmly against the wound in her side.

Murphy remained conscious for a while after they reached the highway.

But she was getting colder.

Sam's arms were warm around her, yet she couldn't get warm herself. Her fingers were slowly losing their strength.

Sam kept talking to her.

At first, she could still understand him.

“Murphy, don't fall asleep.”

“I know.”

Her voice was weak, and she sounded faintly annoyed with him.

A little later, he called her name again.

Murphy struggled to lift her eyelids. “Why are you so loud...?”

Hearing her complain, Sam felt a small measure of relief. “If you don't stay awake, I'm going to get even louder.”

She wanted to tell him he was already irritating enough.

But when she tried, she couldn't remember how to put the words together.

Dean kept watching her in the rearview mirror.

“Murphy.”

This time it was him calling.

She lifted her eyelids a fraction.

“Look at Sammy.” Dean's hands were still shaking on the steering wheel. “Don't close your eyes.”

The request seemed terribly annoying. Everybody talking to her was annoying now.

She only wanted to sleep for a little while.

Sam was pressing harder against her injury, but strangely, the pain no longer felt as sharp.

At first, it had been so severe she was afraid to breathe deeply. Now it was only a distant, dull ache, as though the pain belonged to someone else.

The sounds around her started fading too.

The engine, the tires against the highway, Bobby saying how far they still had to drive, Dean seemingly calling her name once more.

Murphy could barely distinguish any of it.

Sam looked down and saw that her eyes were almost entirely closed. Alarm sharpened his voice.

“Murphy?”

She wanted to answer. She knew she ought to make some sound, even a simple hum.

But suddenly, she didn't have the strength to open her mouth.

Sam called again.

“Murphy?”

This time, Murphy heard nothing at all.