Trigger warning: Talk of suicide, self-harm, eating disorders, abuse

I woke up to the door slamming open. Thankfully, I only lifted my head since there were three bodies congregated in the doorway, and I was only okay with one of them seeing me in the bath...maybe two.

"Bianca, what the hell?" I pulled the curtain closed around me.

"Mel, I was so worried." She came closer.

"Why?" The water had grown cold, so I had been in here for longer than I intended, but that was no reason to bring the Winchesters into this. I peered around the curtain. They still stood in the doorway, shocked. "Um, privacy, please?"

"Sorry." Sam grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door shut.

"What the hell is your problem?" I unplugged the drain with my good foot, pulled myself onto the ledge of the bathtub, and wrapped a towel around my now-shivering body.

Bee crouched beside me with tears leaking from her eyes. "After last time, I was just so worried. You have to understand that you can't do this to me."

"Why did you think this was anything like that time? What signs did I give you?" I dried off frantically. "You're the one who is drunk all the time. Do you see me barging in on you in the tub? You could drown."

"You could've, too." Her anxiety quickly turned to anger. "Who sleeps in a bathtub?"

"Someone who is really tired." I stood shakily. Bee reached out to steady me, but I pushed her hands away before sitting on the closed toilet. "Do you see that thing there, too? It's a headrest to keep you in one place. I was perfectly safe."

"How was I supposed to know that? Why did you lock the door?" Bee asked. "We knocked and you didn't respond."

"Maybe I wanted some damned privacy for the first time in a year. You haven't let me out of your sight since that day." I pulled my shirt over my head aggressively. "You're smothering me."

"I'm sorry I care." Bee crossed her arms.

"I don't need a mother, much less one who is the same age as me," I said. "I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" Bee asked. "The last time you were left to your own devices—"

"I'm not like that anymore!" I snapped as I rose to slip my bottoms on. 

"Are you sure?" Bee shouted. "You don't sleep. You don't finish meals."

"How would you even know? You're passed out on the couch all the time!" I screamed. 

"I just think I can help." The tears welled up again.

Without thinking about the repercussions, I got real close to Bee and said, "If you keep trying to help, I may just kill myself."

Fully clothed, I crutched out of the bathroom, leaving Bee in stunned silence. I made my way through the kitchen and into the living room where Sam and Dean were whispering to each other. There was no doubt they'd heard us yelling at each other. Both of their heads snapped to me as I appeared.

"I want to go for a drive. I need to clear my head." I stared at Sam.

He looked at his brother briefly before getting up. "Yeah, okay."

I grabbed the keys to my Roadrunner out of my duffle and tossed them to him. Without looking to see if he was following, I made my way onto Bobby's front porch. By the time Sam got outside, I had my crutches in one hand and was attempting to hop down the front steps.

"Melanie!" He rushed over to me. 

After taking my crutches, Sam wrapped an arm around my waist and helped me down the stairs. As soon as my foot touched the sidewalk out front, I ripped my crutches from his hand and quickly made my way to the car. 

"Would you slow down for a second?" Sam asked.

"Look, if you don't want to drive me, I'm going to start walking down the road and someone will have to come and get me when I run out of energy and can't get back here," I said. "Can we save ourselves some trouble and just go for a drive?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

Once I was comfortably in the passenger seat and Sam had gotten us out on the road, the waterworks began. At first, it was just tears streaking down my cheeks. Then came the sniffles. Before long, I was sobbing. Sam gently rubbed my back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam asked.

"Why can't she just let me live my life?" I said it much louder than I had intended. I adjusted my volume. It wasn't Sam I was mad at. "The only reason she even hunts is because I want to keep doing it. She doesn't trust that I'd be okay on my own. I'm twenty-three."

Sam reached over and opened the glovebox. Below the pistol that was in there, there was a stack of napkins. I graciously accepted the one he pulled out for me and blew my nose.

"Bianca just cares about you," Sam said.

"I'm getting tired of people saying that." I grabbed another napkin and wiped the tears off my cheeks. "Her caring has gone too far. I can't breathe without her commenting on it. Weren't you uncomfortable earlier?"

Sam shrugged. "Bianca seemed worried when she woke us up. It was awkward, but I assumed she had reason to."

"Who's side are you on?" I asked.

"There are no sides," Sam said. "Everyone is losing right now."

I crossed my arms and slumped against the seat. He was right, but that didn't mean I had to like it. We drove around for a while longer until I felt some of the anger ebb away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "You can see why I was upset, though, right? How would you have felt?"

"Oh, mortified," Sam said. "I don't know your full story, so I can't say whether Bianca made a brash decision or not, but she genuinely seemed concerned about your well-being. She shook Dean and me awake saying we needed to get into that bathroom. I think you need to have a conversation with her about all this."

"I know you're right, but I'm still mad at her. She crossed a line," I said.

Sam turned the car into a parking lot. "I didn't say you had to talk to her right now."

"Where are we?" I looked around. There was just a small building in front of us.

"Bobby used to bring us here for ice cream when we had bad days as kids. I thought it might cheer you up." Sam unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Well, I'm not going to turn down ice cream." I unbuckled as well. 

Sam helped me up and got me adjusted on my crutches. We walked over to the order window. After scarfing down our ice cream cones, Sam restarted the car and we headed back to Bobby's. I was feeling much better. Spending time with Sam was just what I needed.

But, when Sam pulled into Bobby's driveway, anger flared in my chest again. I got out and crutched toward the house. Sam locked the car and caught up to me.

"Wait," he said. "You've got some..." he pointed to the corner of his mouth.

I reached up with my right hand to try and wipe what I assumed was leftover ice cream away and almost toppled onto the stairs.

"Here." Sam reached out and wiped it away with his thumb. 

We stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Before I knew what was happening, his lips were on mine. I leaned into his kiss wanting so much more. Then, my feet were off the ground. Luckily, Sam had quick reflexes. He caught me before I could fall to the hard concrete below us. 

"Thanks," I said. "Maybe we should only do this sitting down for a while."

Sam smiled as he steadied me before picking up my crutches. "I think that's probably a good idea. Let me help you."

With Sam's arm looped around my own and a death grip on the railing beside me, I made it up the stairs for the first time under most of my own power. It wasn't much, but the way today had gone, it felt like I could move mountains.

"Look at you. Before long you'll be running wind sprints up and down the street," Sam said.

I laughed. "I don't think I ran wind sprints when I was healthy."

As we walked into the house, both of our smiles fell. Bianca and Dean sat at the kitchen table with drinks in front of them. Bee's eyes were bright red and puffy. Tears had smudged her eye makeup down her cheeks. Dean's jaw clenched as he turned to face us.

"Glad you're having such a good time." Dean stood up. "Care to tell me what this awful thing you did was? Bianca won't tell me. She says it's your story."

I shot Bianca a look around Dean's body. "You told him?"

"Hey, don't be mad at her. She was sobbing in the bathroom when I went to see if she was okay." Dean stepped into my sightline. "People don't cry like that for no reason."

"Dean, don't you think—"

"Respectfully, Sam, butt out." Dean glared at Sam.

I narrowed my eyes. "I don't owe you anything, especially if that's how you're going to talk to me. Now, excuse me." I turned and crutched toward the living room.

"Where are you going? I'll sit next to you on that couch all day if that's what it takes to get this story out of you." Dean followed me.

Hopped up on my success from climbing the stairs to the porch and frustration with this situation, I ripped open the door to the stairs.

"Mel—"

I shot Sam a look.

"You can't get up there," Dean said.

"I'll crawl up them if it gets me away from you." I looked up into his eyes, challenging him.

Dean extended one hand and swiftly pushed the door out of my grip and slammed it shut. "Now what?"

I wrenched on the door, but he held it closed. "Damn it!" I leaned around him. "Is this what you wanted Bianca? Are you happy?"

Sam walked toward us. "Dean, I really th—"

"This is between Melanie and me." Dean turned back to me. "Understand?"

I set my jaw. "Why is this even any of your business?"

"If I'm going to keep hunting with you, I need to gauge your stability," Dean said nonchalantly.

"Have I made a bad call yet?" I asked.

"That depends on your definition of a bad call." Dean crossed his arms.

I tried to seize my opportunity to yank the door open into him, but he caught it and slammed it shut again. Blood boiled in my veins. Maintaining eye contact with Dean, I shouted, "Why the fuck did you tell him anything?"

"Because she's in pain," Dean said in an eerily calm voice.

Bianca started sobbing. I saw Sam turn to look at her. He was conflicted about what he should do, caught in the crossfire. Dean and I continued to stare each other down. 

"Don't you think that's enough for tonight?" Sam asked.

"No." Dean refused to break our glaring contest, too. "She needs to spill the beans. It's her story, so she needs to tell it."

"Why do you need to know?" Sam asked.

Dean finally looked over his shoulder but kept a firm hand on the door. "I'm trying to look out for the both of us. We don't need someone breaking in the middle of a hunt and causing more problems."

"I won't break." My voice shook slightly with ire. "And I'm looking out for me."

"She'll tell us when she's ready," Sam said. "Why can't you leave this alone?"

"Because, damn it, Sam, I need to know she's okay." When Dean turned back to me, there were tears in his eyes. "I'm not going to let you self-destruct. You didn't let me."

Tension drained out of my body. "Fine, but I need to sit down. It's a long story."

I turned and crutched to the couch. Dean sat in one of the armchairs next to the couch. Sam remained standing between the living room and the kitchen. Bee didn't move. I continued to hear quiet sniffles from her.

"After we found our parents dead, something broke inside me. Maybe all the trauma caught up to me." My lip already quivered slightly. "The day we had our parents' funeral, Bee and I got stupid drunk. That was the first time I self-harmed." I rolled my sleeves up to show the two deep two-inch gashes that stretched vertically along my forearm as well as the thin horizontal ones just below my elbows.

"It was my fault they were dead. I didn't deserve to be around anymore." I sniffled. "I went on like that for a few weeks. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my parents' dead eyes staring back at me in that blood-soaked room. I didn't sleep. My stomach rolled at the thought of food, so I hardly ate. With Bee's new drinking coping mechanism, I had plenty of time to cut and all the tools to do it."

"I lost fifteen pounds in a week," I said. "Even though we had jobs to do, I laid in bed most days." Tears slipped down my cheeks. "Bee tracked down my siblings, hoping they could get me back on my feet. They asked for time alone to mourn with their sister. As soon as Bee left, they turned on me. They had gotten Mom and Dad's will. They left me half of everything and only a quarter of their stuff to each of them. I was the one that killed them, so I didn't deserve it. They called me an abomination, a half-breed, a demon spawn, and a murderer."

I hiccuped as the crying got more intense. "They beat me up. I was too weak to fight them off. It was so intense, I passed out. I woke up with blood everywhere. My head was cut from where I fell onto the table in the motel room. I was covered in bruises from head to toe. My brother choked me, so there were bruises all along my throat.

"With a lot of pain, I shuffled into the bathroom. I started filling the tub, sat down in it, took the knife off my belt, and cut into my wrists." My ears pounded as I continued to fight off the tears. "Bee found me. I wanted to die. I remember screaming at her that I had nothing to live for after they'd revived me in the hospital. I said I hated her because she made me live this awful life again. I told her I never wanted to see her again."

I looked over at Bee. "I was checked into a psych ward. Bee told them to keep me for a few months. She had signed all the paperwork to become my guardian. Every day, she visited me. For weeks, I said nothing to her, but she continued to fill me in about her days. I finally opened up to the psychiatrist as much as I could without landing myself a permanent stay. They taught me what I needed to move on with my life. Aside from the panic attacks, I've been good since I was released."

Sam tried to hug me, but I pushed him away. Tears stained both of the Winchester boy's cheeks. Refusing to be coddled anymore, I wiped the tears off my face and met Dean's gaze.

"Is that story good enough for you?" Dean nodded. "If anyone needs me, I'll be dying my hair with the door open so no one panics."