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Desaturate

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“Do you think she’ll wake up any time soon?” I hear muddily through the haze of unconsciousness.

“I don’t know, Dean. She’s been out for quite some time now,” another voice answers.

“I’m amazed she’s even alive at all. Last time you got thrown by a demon you were out of commission for a week,” the first voice smirks.

“Not willingly and you know it,” the second retorts.

“Oh, Sammy, you liked lying in bed all day and you kno- hey, I think she’s waking up.”

My eyes begin to flutter open, and I instantly regret opening them at all. Light stabs into my pupils, forcing me to squint. There’s a dark ceiling above me. The room smells musty and old and I can hear the bed springs creak beneath me as two large men lean toward me, sitting on either side of the bed.

“Hey, hey sunshine!” the first voice nearly shouts. I wince and try to sit up. Pain shoots through my arm and shoulder, all the way down to my ribs. I suck in a surprised gasp and quickly look down. My arm is pretty well strapped to my chest, and my bare skin from the bra down is covered in an ace bandage.

“Whoa, whoa, easy,” the second voice insists. The first things I notice about him are his long brown hair and gentle expression. His hand reaches out to my good shoulder and gently pushes me back against the pillows. “You got hurt pretty badly. Take it easy. Here.” He hands me two white pills and a glass of water.

The other guy - who was also attractive, but with short hair - chuckles at my defensive face. “Relax,” he chides, “It’s just Tylenol.” He nods toward the nightstand where a bottle sits. I shake my head and hand the pills and water back to him. I try to hide the pain of it by gritting my teeth.

“Trust me,” the one with long hair says, “You need them.” He pushes them back into my hand. I sigh and take them reluctantly. The water that rushes down my throat is more refreshing than I expect, and all too soon the glass is empty. I frown at it.

“Here,” the first one says, taking the cup out of my hand. “I’ll get you more water.” He shoots a quick look at the long haired guy and steps into another room.

The long haired one clears his throat and asks me, “Do you remember anything?” He says it gently. I look at him, really look at him, and my breath catches in my throat. He’s beautiful. How had I not noticed before? Long, chestnut hair coming down to just above his shoulders. His sharp jaw is covered with day-old stubble. Light brown eyes search my face. His expression is concerned.

I suddenly realize that he had asked me a question. “Uh, um…” I stammer, feeling my cheeks heat. I quickly scan my memories, but I can’t remember anything before I woke up. I can’t even remember my name. My eyebrows knit together and I chew on my lip. “I don’t remember anything…”

He sighs. “Well, I’ll give you the basics then.” He places a hand on his chest, introducing himself. “I’m Sam, and that’s Dean, my brother.” The other man walks back into the room then. God, now that I could breathe and think, he’s beautiful too. His light brown hair is cut short, showing the angles of his face. His features are masculine, but there is some kind of model-like perfection to him. His eyes are green and his shoulders broad.

“Here,” Dean says, handing me the refilled glass. I took it eagerly and started to drink.

“She doesn’t remember anything,” Sam tells his brother.

“Crap,” is Dean’s only response.

“Can someone please tell me exactly what the hell is going on?” I huff. The boys eye each other, having a silent conversation. Dean turns to me, sitting down on the bed. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Do you know your name?” Sam asks, noticing Dean’s loss for words.

I try to search my mind again. Blurry, colorless pictures flit by. Smells I can’t name, sounds just too quiet to hear. But for as long as I look, I can’t find my name. “No. I- I don’t remember anything,” I say in quiet defeat.

They both sigh. “Kate,” Dean says, “Your name is Kate.”

At the sound of my name, I can see some color in the blurry photos. Nothing significant, but color nonetheless. Blue. The color of the sky, the ocean, my favorite stuffed animal as a child. The name feels right to me. My face breaks into a grin. “My name is Kate,” I repeat.

Sam and Dean both mirror my smile, though Sam’s is wider. He’s quick to ask, “Did that jog my memory at all?” His eyes search mine, his gaze intense. It feels like he was looking into my memories for me.

My smile fades. “No, nothing else came up,” I say quietly. Sam’s face falls and he looks at his hands. His shoulders slouch. I ache to comfort him, yet I have no idea why. I don’t know this man; I’d just met him. I don’t even know what his last name was. But maybe I knew him before I’d forgotten everything.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean pipes up cheerfully. “It’ll come back eventually, right?” I give him a tight-lipped smile. I really hope he’s right.