Author's Note:

This content is a continuation of the daydream AU that Gale had in the park in the previous chapter. My lovely friend Steffes did send a companion piece that shows Dean's perspective of that night, and I'm just showing Gale's perspective of the continuation.

Gale was never a light sleeper.

She always had the comfort of knowing that there were people around her that would be able to handle whatever was thrown at them, be it at the Hogwarts dorms or her own bedroom in her parent's house. Over the years, however, as Jane grew up, she learned to strain her ears for any trouble as she found herself left to be the protector of the house. She would never forgive herself should problems arise while she was fast asleep.

So, when she heard the door to their house open, her eyes snapped open. It took her a short while, but she finally got her bearings and remembered where she was.

The glow-in-the-dark starts on the ceiling calmed her down as she held their daughter closer, taking a moment to savor having her pride and joy in her arms. But that moment had to be over soon.

Gale slid off the bed, careful not to wake up their daughter. She took the baseball from one corner of the room and crept out of the room, closing the door with the flower design on the wood softly. With slow and careful steps, she descended the stairs, her hand tightening around the bat.

She must have been a ridiculous sight with her purple hair, floral pajamas, and thin frame, holding a bat as if she would swing at any time. But that never bothered her. She would swing the bat at an intruder, if only it would make sure that their daughter would be safe.

Her grip tightened more on the bat, her knuckles turning white, as she saw the open front door. It was times like these that she wished that she had Dean with her. Just like the time that Jane got sick when she was an infant, or the time that Jane got a concussion from tripping over a rogue root, or the time that Jane had cried out that there was a monster under her bed, or the time that Gale had to let Jane go to her first day of school.

All of those times—the times that Gale felt truly and horribly afraid—she wished Dean was with her to provide her comfort, to protect them from those fears. However, life didn't work that way. Just like all of those times, Gale was alone.

She inspected their whole house, checking every nook and cranny for an intruder. She was wound up, her muscles tight as she readied herself for an encounter with anything and everything. So far, everything was clear.

It wasn't until she reached the couch close to front door that she noticed the piece of paper there with a hastily scribbled note in a handwriting that was, once again, painfully familiar. Picking it up and scanning her eyes over it, Gale had to hold back a sob as her body was dunked in so much pain.

Jane,

I love you. Very much. I cannot describe the beauty and divinity I see in you. It is the same wondrous beauty I see in your mother. You and your mother have been the best things that has happened to me in my life. Your smile is very much award winning. I am very lucky to have you.

Gale,

I'm sorry...sorry for all those nights alone. I wish I could tell you this in person right now but I am a coward. I have been rightfully stripped of my Gryffindor crest long ago. I am sorry you have become chained to the wrong person. I am worthless, Gale. You must leave; please take Jane—run and never look back. Take the privilege of being able to do so for I cannot run from myself.

The note fell from her fingers as her mind tried to work itself to unfreeze her body. The pain was there: cold, burning, relentless, and quickly spreading.

"Dean," she breathed out, her voice cracking as she took shaky breaths.

The bat fell from her hand and made a loud "clang!" when it hit the floor. The sound mirrored what she imagined her heart would sound like as it fell to the floor as well. It was the sound that made her brain go haywire as she looked around the living room madly, tears building up in her eyes as she searched for anything that can help her, anything that could anchor her down as she felt her soul slowly leaving her.

She felt like she couldn't breathe as her eyes would land at anything and everything that reminded her of him: Their house, their living room, their bookcase, their stereo, their coffee table, their couch, their grandfather clock, their kitchen, their refrigerator. Everything in their house was shared. Every part had a piece of him. Wherever Gale looked, everything was a "their".

Their daughter.

Without any other thought, she made a dash towards the coat hanger, shakily pulling out one of her coats and slipping it on. She changed her slippers for a pair of sneakers and rushed out, closing the door behind her.

Her lungs screamed and cried as she ran and ran and ran. Her eyes would dart left and right, trying to find the familiar silhouette that always made her heart throb and ache. She tried to find the familiar face the made her eyes soften and steel. She tried to find the hands that she wanted to touch and wanted to pull. She tried to find those beautiful brown eyes that she wanted to look at her—to simply look at her.

"Dean!" she screamed, her throat scratching from the sheer intensity of her call.

It was the wrong move to stop running as she finally felt the fire in her lungs that lapped and seared the inside of her body. Her breathing was ragged as she tried to force air in and out. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked left and right, trying to locate the original source of her happiness. Her knees quaked, and her legs begged at her to stop. But her heart—her heart couldn't take that thought and asked her to continue.

Gale took in a gulp of air, shakily doing so through her tears and her sobs, before she started running again.

Her whole body was telling her to stop, to give up, to go back home. Lights and people passed her, making the world around her dizzying and nauseating. The pain was overwhelming, but she couldn't stop. There was simply no way that she could and would stop.

Dean had told her to run away, but no matter what she did, she would always run towards him.

When she reached a bridge, she stopped, trying desperately to catch her breath before screaming, "Dean!"

Her legs finally gave out, and she crumbled to her knees. Sobs racked and jerked her body as her tears hit the pavement. Thoughts about Dean—her Dean—and that note made her cry out and bury her head in her hands, letting the physical and emotional pain completely destroy her in the early morning.

If she could see Dean, she wanted to ask him a ton of questions concerned on the how.

How? How could she run away from him when all she wanted to do was run into his arms? How could she think of Dean as someone worthless when he was her world? How could she think of him as a coward when he bravely kept fighting for what was right? How could she believe that she was chained to the wrong person when even before the proposal she knew that Dean was the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with? How could she leave? How? How?

Her breathing started to come out in short gasps as her chest squeezed tightly.

No, no, no, no. It had been years since she last had an asthma attack. She can't have a panic attack now in the middle of nowhere with no inhaler. She can't. She couldn't. Jane.

She wheezed and gasped, trying to force air back into her lungs. Her entire chest area burned as she curled into herself, trying to calm herself and regain her breathing. Gale's hands were shaking and her skin was turning cold when she heard the most melodic sound.

"Mommy!"

Gale squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to remember the voice that served as her rock, provided her peace, and instilled hope. She tried to focus her breathing on the rhythm of Jane's heart beat when she heard it the first time while she was pregnant. She tried to imagine the feeling of ma petit fleur's arms around her—a feeling that always kept her together and kept her whole.

And for some reason, it was as if she could really feel tiny arms wound around her in a comforting embrace, trying to keeping her whole. She could smell the sweet scent of flowers blooming in the sharp winter. She could feel the soft cheek pressed against the top of her head—

"Mommy?"

Gale's eyes snapped opened as she jerked away, eyes wide as she stared at their daughter, still clad in pajamas with a coat thrown over it. Her pale lips parted and pressed closed as she tried to quiet her wheezing in front of Jane—their daughter, her guiding light, her precious flower.

Her lungs continued to squeeze themselves, almost as if it would completely collapse on itself as she continued to keep herself quiet. She was ashamed, completely embarrassed, that her daughter had to see her in this state with her face wet with tears, her lips pale and almost blue, her hair wild and tangled, and her heart openly shattered.

"J-Jane," Gale stuttered, reaching a shaking hand towards her daughter's cheek. Her words came out in gasps and wheezes which made her more ashamed and small compared to the child.

Jane looked at her mother with worry, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

Gale Azalea Thomas—she was a woman that always showed her best. Her hair was always done in an impeccable up-do or exquisite curls down her shoulders. Dress after dress would be worn, all of them pressed and artistic in design, simple but elegant. Her makeup was always put together and natural—clear eyes, faint blush on the cheeks, and a simple gloss on her lips.

The image now, it was something that Jane never thought she would see. It wasn't how her mother looked that shocked her. It was the simple fact that now…she could see the truth. All of the lies that her mother had built, the image that she tried to project, they all came crumbling down. Beaten, broken, pale in the face, struggling for breath, and crying.

Jane placed her bag on the ground and grabbed the emergency inhaler that was in her bag.

It was unfortunate, Gale would always think, that her condition was passed on to her child. Gale had wanted her to grow up strong and a bit athletic. She had wanted Jane to be able to play soccer with Dean without any of them worrying about her shortness of breath. She had wanted Jane to be able to catch up to her father.

But now, Gale was almost grateful that their daughter understood what it was like.

Their daughter shook the inhaler a few times, took off the cap, and held it towards her mother's mouth.

"Mommy, please," she begged, her throat closing up as well at seeing the truth.

Shaking and wheezing, Gale nodded and used the inhaler, taking in a lungful of the medication. The bitter taste in her mouth was sickening, but she pushed it to the back of her mind as she enveloped her hands around their daughter—their beautiful, sweet daughter.

She took another puff of the medication, just to make sure that the attack would stop and that their daughter won't worry again.

"H-How?" Gale asked, placing her hand at the back of their daughter's head. "D-Did you—Did you run—Did I w-wake you up-p?"

Jane clung to her mother, burying her face in the crook of her mother's neck. There, she finally felt safe and a bit peaceful. "I was so scared, Mommy."

"You—You ran out the door, and I was so scared," Jane continued, the tears from the corners of her eyes finally spilling down her cheeks and hitting Gale's coat.

Gale let out a sob. Whatever was left of her heart had shattered and fell to the ground. What had she done?

She had left her child and simply ran out of their home. Not only that, but she scared her as well. And now…now she was showing their daughter what she had always kept to herself.

"I'm so sorry," Gale breathed, tightening her hold on their daughter.

And she was sorry. She was sorry for suddenly leaving the house. She was sorry for making her daughter feel fear. She was sorry for letting their daughter see her in that state. She was sorry for being too rash and running after Dean. She was sorry for not making an effort to make sure that Dean was all right. She was sorry for not being strong enough to walk away from Dean so that they could have a normal life. She was sorry that their daughter had to grow up too fast and realize that Dean…might always be absent from their lives.

But most of all, Gale was sorry that she had become too dependent on her daughter.

Jane pat her mother's back, or at least the part that she could reach, as she said, "It's okay, Mommy. I'm just happy that you're okay."

"I don't deserve you," she whispered, trying to still her body that was still jerking from the sobs that escaped her lips and the pain that she felt. "You—ma petit fleur, you are the best thing that has ever happened to your father and I."

Gale pulled away and held their daughter's cheeks. And though the tears in her eyes made everything blurry, she swore that their daughter's face was so clear and so vivid to her.

"Mommy," Jane started, hiccupping as her mother wiped the tears that spilled the tears on her cheeks with her thumb, "why are you still crying?"

Gale chuckled lightly, though the sound sounded garbled through her crying. "I'm crying…"

She bit her lip and thought of her answer, but she knew their daughter deserved the truth.

"I'm crying because I am a-afraid—because I'm afraid and because I love your father s-so much."

"So much," she repeated as a fresh wave of tears cascaded down her face.

Jane looked at her mother, tried to memorize this moment where her mother was completely vulnerable. It was the truth, but Jane had decided: she never wanted to see her mother that way again.

Bringing up her small hands, Jane started wiping away her mother's tears.

"Dad loves you too, Mommy," she insisted, her tone confident. "I can see it. I know Dad loves you."

Gale let out a sob and kissed their daughter's palm.

"Y-You do?" she asked, a pinch of disbelief in her tone.

Jane nodded her head, her curls bouncing. "He loves you. Because…even if it's late, he still comes home."

Gale wrapped her arms around her child and pulled her close, not wanting their daughter to see another wave of tears rush down her face.

She was right. Their daughter was right. She was wise enough to see the truth in the smallest things.

"Let's go home, Mommy," Jane said softly, clinging to her mother's coat. "Let's go home, and we can wait for Daddy together."

"You don't have to wait alone anymore."

Gale buried her face in her daughter's hair, sending out prayer after prayer of gratitude. The world had given her such a miracle. Through all of these dark times, she had found a light.

And amidst those prayers to Heaven, she sent out a prayer to her own personal Heaven.

Dean, our daughter's so strong, she thought.

She's independent and wise. She knows when trouble is arising, when silence is healing, and when her mother is hurting. Jane has the same intelligence and wit that you do. She has the same way with words.

Jane's so aware that I'm somewhat ashamed that she could see right through my smiles. She could see straight through me like you did. She knew when I would lie, when I would avoid the truth, when I needed time to cry.

But the best trait that she has of all is that she knows what to do to make others around her feel so loved.

She's so beautiful and wonderful, Dean. Everyday, I see her doing so many wonderful things. She asks me to make more sandwiches for her lunch for her friend who's always hungry. She cleans up after herself because she says that I already "do enough". She makes you all of these wonderful pictures and stories. She brings her toys to school to share with her friends. Whenever her friends ask her to come to a sleepover, she asks me if I want to sleepover at my friend's house too-because she knows I don't like to be alone.

She's growing up so beautifully, and I wish you can see her.

Dean, please, come home.

Come home so you can watch her grow up to be the person that we all dream we could be.

Come home so you can feel how much she loves her father and how much I miss my husband.