The haze in your brain muddled the things you were hearing. You thought you heard the dying scream of the vetala, but her venom was racing through your veins so fast you weren't sure of anything except the pain in your side from falling to the floor, but even that was dull. You struggled for breath, trying to cry out for the brothers but unable to make a sound. The bite marks on your wrist throbbed and you felt your heartbeat beginning to slow. From far away, you heard running steps and Sam calling out your name. You felt strong arms gather you up, lifting you easily and Dean cradled your head.
"Hold on," he said, his voice echoing strangely in your muddled ears, "You gotta hold on. Sam, keep her wrist under her heart. Slow the venom as much as you can!"
He turned away and Sam ran with you out the door, laying you down on the hood of the Impala, taking your pulse and checking your breathing. You felt the sound waves wash over your hyper-sensitive skin before his distorted voice reached your ears.
"Dean, she's barely breathing," you heard him say, "I can hardly find a pulse!"
Dean's tense face entered your line of vision as you saw his lips shape a curse word, his hand running over his cropped hair before he turned away and you felt his bellow.
"Cas!"
Barely a moment later, the angel appeared. Dean gestured towards you and you had to strain to hear his voice. Everything was growing quieter and your vision was slowly blurring.
"Heal her!"
Your heart stopped. Then it beat again, fighting valiantly to keep you alive. The venom was so strong. Sam grabbed your hand and squeezed it. You felt your eyes glazing over. Sam choked out your name. The angel loomed over you, his blue eyes glowing. Funny, you could almost see his wings and his halo. Castiel reached his hand out and laid it on your heart. There was a flash of light, a searing pain, and your vision went white.
Soft. You were lying on something soft. Is this Heaven? Funny, you never thought you'd end up there. But you were comfortable. That was better than Hell, you supposed. You tried to open your eyes but your eyelids were so heavy. You shifted, wanting to open your eyes and see where you were. When you shifted, you felt something next to you. There was a warm weight pressed against your side and resting on your chest. You thought you felt it breathing. Had Heaven given you a dog?
You struggled to open your eyes. They finally fluttered open and you looked up at the impersonal walls and ceiling of what you recognized as Sam's bedroom in the Men of Letters Bunker. Interesting. Not what you thought your Heaven would look like. Maybe you're not really dead. You shifted again, rising out of the fog. Fog. The vetala. You remembered now. The vetala had poisoned you. You remembered Sam carrying you to safety. You remembered Dean telling you to hold on and calling the angel. You remembered a bright light when Castiel laid his hand on you. He had healed you. You weren't dead.
The body pressed against you clutched you tighter and you angled your head to look down. Sam's lanky body was curled against your side, almost like a puppy. His long arms were wrapped securely around your waist and his soft hair tickled your collarbone as his head rested on your chest. You fought through the weariness in your body to lift your arm and rest it on his shoulder.
"Sam?" Your voice was hoarse and dry from sleep, soft and cracking slightly, but Sam's head snapped up, his hazel green eyes staring at you. He whispered your name.
"You woke up," he breathed, his infectious smile slowly spreading across his face, "You finally woke up!"
"Have you…" your brows furrowed, "have you stayed here the whole time? What were you doing?"
You thought you saw a tinge of pink spread across his cheeks. "I was…I was listening to your heartbeat."
"Why?" He tried to disentangle his arms from around you, but you touched his shoulder and he stopped. He wouldn't look at you. You asked again, "Why?"
"To make sure you were still alive," he whispered. You melted. You pulled him back down, letting his head rest over your heart and you stroked his hair, holding him in your arms.
"I'm still alive," you assured him, "I'm not going anywhere. Not yet."
You stayed curled up like that for a long time.
By ~ why-the-nightingale-sings at Tumblr