CHAPTER ONE

Hell Bound (Season 4)

Dean was beyond hope.

He had less than a year left until his soul would be dragged down to Hell. Dean had transformed into a completely different person: reckless, hopeless…careless. Chris could barely recognize him as of late, and she was saddened that her last memories of Dean would be his dark side. Who could blame him? His clock was ticking out of time.

But what could she do – tell him everything was going to be alright? No she couldn't. It was impossible. Because the truth was, everything wasn't going to be alright for Dean. He was going to be condemned to an eternal damnation whether he liked it or not, and all Chris could do was wait until his final moments to end.

Chris regretted her decision to leave him to his own devices, because here she was, helping this pathetic, lost soul with his "choices."

"Ouch! Chris! What the hell?" Dean winced with pain, the large gash in his chest (which would most likely leave a gaping scar) was dripping with thick, red blood. He scooped up the Jack Daniels bottle from the bedside table, taking a large draught of it. Some of the liquid dripped from his lips, streaming down his chin and onto his bare chest. He pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for Chris to finish cleaning his wound. She didn't say anything, but continued to tend to his injury.

Chris was so mad…she was beyond furious! To be that impulsive—it was so…so amateur!

"You're such an asshole." Chris muttered through a bitter laugh and clenched teeth.

"What?"

Chris exploded.

"You heard me, you fucking dick! How could you be so stupid?! You could've gotten all three of us killed back there! Are you really that eager to go to Hell?"

Dean was shocked into silence.

"Well?! Are you?!" Chris could feel the tears well up in her eyes, which made her even more angry that she was about to cry in front of Dean (which was something she had never done before).

Chris stood up from the bed, turning her back on Dean so he couldn't see her. She put her hands on her hips, shutting her eyes tight so the tears wouldn't get a chance to fall. Chris let out a cringe worthy laugh, making him shiver.

"I mean God! If you wanted to go that badly, then all you had to do was ask! I would've sent you there myself!"

"Chris…"

"Don't."

Chris slowly turned back around and, without another word, continued to stitch up Dean's chest. Dean seemed to be at a loss for words, taking in the deafening silence.

With the last stitch and final roll of the bandage, she tied off the cloth and stood up again. Making her way to the door, her black leather jacket in tow, she reached for the doorknob. He called out to her, his tone demanding her to come back. But she didn't stop.

Dean managed to grab her wrist in time before she opened the door, pulling her away from it forcefully. She was facing him now, his expression rigid and stern. But his eyes were soft. In just a short while, she will never be able to see that stupid, grimacing expression of his ever again. Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest at this, but she ignored it.

She jerked her wrist back from his hold, giving him a threatening look before reaching for the knob again. Chris opened the door and she could feel the breeze hit her face, wanting nothing more than the fresh air to cool her down. But before she knew it, the door slammed shut in her face. Dean was looming dangerously over her, his arm like a cage between her and her way out.

"What are you doing?"

"We're not done talking." Dean ordered in a deep voice, trying to intimidate her. But she was far from amused.

"I'm done talking. Now get away from the door."

Dean planted his foot down in front of the door, making opening the door impossible. "You're going to have to move me then."

"Do you think keeping me here will make me talk about all of this meaningless bullshit? It doesn't even matter now, Dean! None of this matters! You've already made up your mind, so there's no use saying anything different!" Chris paused to wait for his reply, but he said nothing.

"Dean, I want to leave. Open the door."

"No." Dean challenged.

"I've already said enough! Let me leave!" Her voice cracked at the last word, and she could feel her resolve leaving her. Tears welled up in her clouding, green-hazel eyes. She hissed out a curse through her teeth. She turned her back on Dean once more, closing her eyes and letting her head rest against the door. Chris could finally feel the tears escape and run down her cheeks, the feeling of defeat and weakness overwhelmed her until she was shaking.

"Damn it…"

Suddenly, and without warning, Dean grabbed her by the shoulders and whirled her around to face him. Dean took Chris into a strong embrace, the wind getting knocked out of her as he pulled her roughly against him. Dean winced as her body collided onto his, but he ignored the pain from his injury and held her tighter against him. Chris wanted to pull away, to fight him again, but she couldn't.

She just couldn't.

Her chin could barely reach above his shoulder, and she found herself almost suffocating from the unyielding hold he had on her. Although the embrace was demanding and strong, it made her feel safe. That familiar scent of old leather and cologne that belongs only to him, filled her senses. Those rigid muscles rippled beneath her when he moved against her. She never wanted him to let go – never wanting him to leave her.

With a clenched fist, she pounded hard against his back with her last fit of anger.

"You're such an idiot."