Dean's POV
I move forward trying to catch a glimpse of Aria as they roll her away.
"Sir, I need you to stay here," a short haired, male nurse orders, arms out to stop me.
"She's family," I growl as anxiety pounds in my chest, moving around the guy.
"I understand that, but she's in bad condition and we need to get her stabilized before I can let you see her," he explains stepping in my way again, but I ignore him. I can't leave her alone. I can't. Sam grips my shoulder, meeting my distraught gaze, his own panic shining in his, and gives a quick shake of his head.
I relent, shoulders slumping in defeat as the nurse goes on, eyeing Sam's bloodied shirt and the gashes on my face, "Besides, it looks like you two need some help anyway."
"BP is dropping!"
"We need blood!"
"Crash cart!"
Sam and I push past the guy, rushing towards the trauma room they carted her into. A lump lodges itself in my throat, choking me, threatening to kill me. The scream of the heart monitor echoes in the ER, all hands on deck rushing into her room.
"CLEAR!"
I skid to a halt in front of the curtained room in time to watch Aria's lifeless body surge off the bed with the electric shock. My hand mindlessly clutches at Sam's shirt as I stare frozen, trying to remember how to breathe. There's blood everywhere; purple gloves painted red, white sheets stained, pale skin soaked.
"Come on, Aria. Wake up damn it," the words tumbling out of my mouth in a desperate prayer, balling my fist tighter in Sam's shirt, his own balled up in mine. The male nurse from before is back, words flying from his mouth, but I only hear the nurse counting out her compressions, hands pounding into Aria's chest to make her heart work. My gaze flickers between her and the little black screen with the steady, flat, green line.
"She's family!" Sam barks, silencing the man.
"Three-sixty, everyone, clear!"
They press the defibrillator pads to her chest, and her body lurches. I will that green line to jump, pleas falling from my lips in a desperate murmur because she can't die. Not after all this. Not after what I did. A large spike disrupts the straight line before going flat again. Another nurse starts compressions once again, but the green line spikes and then another and then it's beating normal, the steady beep nearly bringing me to my knees.
"We have a pulse!"
I lean into Sam, feeling him stumble too in relief. The nurses work in a frenzy, doctor's calling out orders for surgery prep and to call in the cardiologists and surgeons. The male nurse from earlier is back, sympathy in his light blue eyes,
"Come on, guys. There's nothing you can do but wait now. Let's get you checked out, all right?"
Neither Sam nor I argue, sparing one last glance at our friend before letting the man lead us to our own trauma room. I let Sam have the bed, resting against the wall. His wound is worse than any of mine.
"You guys look like this isn't your first rodeo," the nurse comments, sliding on purple latex gloves as he gathers a tray of tools.
"It's not," Sam breathes out, eyeing me in exhaustion, questioning.
How bad are you?
I shrug my shoulders, signaling I'll live. The nurse doesn't say anything after that. He looks over Sam's shoulder, calling in an x-ray machine and a doctor to look him over. Time ticks on as medical personnel come and go. We're left alone most of the time, but it's silent. The two of us stuck in our heads. Doc and the nurse go over the x-ray with us, showing that no damage occurred when the bullet went through. But we didn't need a doctor to tell us that. We've each had our fair share of gunshots. By now we know if bones have been hit or if it missed.
The nurse stitches Sam up, ordering a couple of pain pills for him. I make him check Sam's ear for any damage after that bitch shot the gun off right next to it. My hands curl painfully into fists at the reminder of the demon.
"You're next," the guy says as Sam gets up, wincing slightly as he tugs his sleeve down over the wrapped gauze of his shoulder.
"I'm fine."
"Dean," Sam's voice one of authority, leaving no room to argue. I roll my eyes, muttering a few choice words to myself as I sit on the edge of the bed, tugging my shirt over my head and hiding the wince that comes with the movement.
The nurse lets out a low whistle before sighing under his breath, "One tough son of a bitch."
I glance down at myself seeing dark, violent bruises beginning to blossom over my torso. The nurse grabs clean medical supplies and starts on my rope burned wrists, cleaning the raw and torn skin. He wraps them with gauze, checking over the scrapes on my face. The cool metal of the stethoscope creates a patch of goose skin over my chest.
"Nothing's broken," I mutter, getting annoyed with the care.
"Just doing my job," the guy defends. "I'm going to order an x-ray, double check and make sure nothing's broken."
"No," I snap, levelling my gaze with the young man.
"Dean-"
"Sam, I'm good."
The two of us stare one another down, until Sam relents, huffing.
"You want any pain killers?"
"No," I tug on my shirt, hiding the pain behind a stone mask.
"Are you sure? Those are some nasty hits."
"Yeah, I'm sure," I state sharply, brushing off the nurse's concern. I just need a good bottle of whisky to forget all of this.
The guy sighs heavily, "All right, then. You guys are cleared to go. You can wait in the waiting room. I'll keep you updated on the status of your family member."
"Thank you," Sam adds as the guy leaves to do his other rounds.
We move to the gloomy aired room with the evening news playing in the background of the quiet area, taking the two chairs right across from the ER doors. Neither of us talk. What is there to say? We were supposed to protect her from that monster. After all she went through last time, we were supposed to keep her safe. I rest my elbows on my knees, placing my chin in my folded hands. Her screams echo in my head, making my stomach twist violently as the images play out. I can still feel her limp body leaning into me, barely breathing.
"Dean, are you all right?" Sam asks, placing a troubled hand on my shoulder.
"What?" His touch pulls me free from the never-ending video playing in my head.
"Are you okay? You're shaking."
I glance down at my clenched hands watching them tremble, "Um, yeah…yeah I'm all right, man." Sam's brow creases, puppy eyes turned on.
"Excuse me?" A young lady with sleek black hair interrupts us, smiling politely, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I understand you two are related to the young woman who was brought in." Two police officers stand off to the side of her, and both Sam and I jump up from our seats, focused only on the nurse
"Yeah, is she going to be okay?" Sam questions urgently.
"Right now she's in surgery. The stab wound to her abdomen and thigh were quite extensive. She lost a lot of blood. The doctors are doing the best they can right now," she answers solemnly.
I choke down the acid in my throat, sucking in a harsh breath.
Please, A, you can't leave me.
"These officers have a few questions for you two in the meantime. The surgeon will come out and let you know how surgery went when he's done." The middle aged woman leaves and the two officers step in.
"Evening, this is Officer Hensley and I'm Officer Cooper," the one cop introduces. He's a burly man with closely shaven blonde hair and dark brown, beady eyes. The man looks like he wants to beat the crap out of us. His partner is short with a thick mustache and thick curly brown hair.
"Sam Williams. This is my brother Dean," The officers nod, writing our names down on a small pad of paper.
"What's your relationship to the woman you brought in?"
"She's our sister," Sam answers smoothly.
"We have a report of an abduction at the Ohio House motel in Clybourne. Witnesses say they saw two men and a woman taken from a room there. Are you the victims?"
"Yes."
"You two mind explaining what happened?" Officer Hensley asks, his face an impassive mask. I cross my arms over my chest, letting Sam make up the cover story. It's not exactly a lie, but saying demons kidnapped us won't go over well.
"We were eating dinner. Next thing we knew these guys kick our door in. They knocked us out and we woke up in some old warehouse," Sam explains.
"Did you know these guys?" The officers study us closely like we're part of some mafia gang. As if the reason we got into this situation was because we messed around with the wrong people.
"No, never seen them in my life."
"What about you?" Officer Cooper questions as he turns his attention on me, accusation in his dark eyes.
"Never seen them," I answer forcefully.
"Did your sister know them, possibly?"
"No, none of us have seen them before," Sam defends curtly, picking up on their implying tones.
"You said you woke up in a warehouse, can you tell us more about the place?"
"The room was filled with old pipes. That's all we saw."
"Can you describe your assailants?"
"There were five of them, can't give you much more than that except there were four men and one woman."
All of this is bullshit. Any information we give them is useless. They can't find the people who did this because they aren't human. Right now, these two are just asking annoying questions about the thing I want to forget. Not to mention their being dicks.
"Any idea as to why they took you?" Sam starts answering, but I cut him off, fed up with the attitude,
"No, they were sick fucks who enjoyed torturing us for the fun of it. They didn't give any reason. Now if you don't mind, my sister is fighting for her life."
Both officers straighten up, taken aback by my hostility. Another comment sits on my tongue, but Sam steps in, diffusing the rising tension.
"Look, this has been pretty traumatizing for us. Maybe you could come back another time?"
"Sure, that's not a problem. We'll be in contact. Condolences for your sister," Officer Hensley offers with a quick nod as the two leave.
"What the hell, Dean?" Sam snaps outraged, turning on me with a look of disbelief. I slump into the padded chair exhausted, rubbing my eyes.
"What, Sam? They can't arrest the people responsible for what happened to her. They're useless."
His jaw tightens, staring down at me in frustration, but those tense shoulders fall with a tired sigh and he sits beside me, running a hand through his hair.
"Look, we didn't have a choice in there. She knows that. Sitting here, hating ourselves for what we did isn't going to help any of us get through this. It's not going to make this easier on her, and it's going to eat us alive. And don't try and say you're okay because you are nowhere near it. She is going to pull through this and as soon as she wakes up we need to be there for her."
But that's easier said than done because he's not the one who carved her up. He didn't remind her of her greatest nightmare. He didn't put her here. Even if we were forced to, I should have found another way. Aria's fighting for her life right now because of what I did. If she dies, that's on my hands. No one else's but mine. But Sam will argue with me until one of us starts throwing fists, and even then he won't stop. So, I nod because I know that's what he wants, and I let my thoughts drown me in guilt.
Aria's POV
Beep...Beep...Beep.
The murmuring of voices attacks my ears, none of them recognizable. I struggle to open my eyelids, each attempt ending with them falling shut uselessly. My tongue lays limp in my mouth like dried fruit, my throat raw and sore. Finally, my eyes open, dim lights shining down on me. It takes me a couple of minutes to get through the thick fog in my mind, eyes rolling around the room, taking it all in. The TV glows from the corner of the room, a man and woman arguing heatedly on the screen.
My head lolls to the side where I catch sight of the heart monitor and IV bag. I watch the green line bounce up and down, and the liquid pain meds drip into the chamber. A heavy pressure rests over my right hand and I look down, my dry lips breaking into a wide smile. Sam's sitting in an uncomfortable chair, leaning on my bed with his head resting on his folded arms, hand clasped over mine. Rolling my head to my right, Dean is reclined in the leather comfy chair. He's moved it up against the bed, elbow resting atop the mattress with his face planted in his palm, fingers inches from mine.
"I didn't realize Chippendale's visited the hospital," I croak with my sore throat. Dean's eyes shoot open immediately turning to me.
"Oh, thank God," he murmurs with a long exhale, leaning over to kiss my forehead. Sam wakes with a jolt as the bed dips on Dean's side, a relieved smile spread over his face, lighting up his exhausted eyes when he sees me.
"Welcome back," he comments squeezing my hand. My lips fall into a stupid smile as I squeeze his back.
"How are you feeling?" Dean asks worriedly.
A giggle tumbles from my chapped lips, my gaze traveling up to the ceiling, "Stoned."
Both brothers let out soft laughs at my answer. "Yeah, they gave you some strong drugs."
"Mm, morphine you mean, Sammy," I mumble, turning to look at the younger brother. "It's the really good shit."
He smiles in amusement, gaze flickering to Dean who looks tense, forcing his mouth into an entertained smirk. I catch a glimpse of his wrapped wrists, brows drawing together, "Are you okay?"
He nods his head, but I reach for him anyway, grabbing his hand and taking a closer look at the gauze wrapping.
"I'm fine, A," he reassures squeezing my fingers before pulling away.
"No, you're not," I protest. "I'm drugged, not stupid, Winchester. You're upset."
Sam sits back in his seat, watching his brother across the bed expectantly. I'm sure the two of them have already been through this argument. We all carry guilt that doesn't deserve to sit on our shoulders.
"Yeah, I am. Is there a problem with that?"
He doesn't mean for his words to come out as rough as they do, I know that. He's drowning in the guilt he insists on carrying. But this isn't his fault. Neither of us could fight. They used our one weakness against us; family. We'd do anything to keep the other out of danger. That's who we are.
I nod my head, fixing my dark green eyes with his, "It is when all three of us are fine."
He steps away, stopping at the foot of my bed as he runs a hand down his worn face. "You are not fine, Aria. You're in a hospital and it's because of me."
"No, I'm in a hospital because a demon gave us an ultimatum."
"I had the knife."
"And she had a fucking gun to Sam's head! It's not your fault," I snarl, shooting upright, a stabbing pain ripping across my abdomen.
"Damn it, Aria. You're gonna rip something," Sam hisses, trying to push me back and I push his hands away, pointing a finger at both of them.
"Both of you listen to me, what happened in that room was not your fault. I don't give a shit if you had the knife or not, you wouldn't have done any of this unless there was no way out. And there wasn't. Trust me. If that demon was working under Oriax then there was no other way."
A heavy sigh rushes from me, the burn in my stomach spreading down my thigh and to my back. "You did what you had to do so that we could all make it out alive, and we did. Let it go, and wipe the guilty looks off your faces or I'm putting you in a room down the hall. Clear?" They glance at each other, sharing a quick look before answering unanimously,
"Yeah."
"Good," I mutter, screwing my eyes shut as I try to lie back down. White hot fire burns throughout my stomach, twisting deep within me.
Fuck, I shouldn't have done that.
"What's wrong?" Sam questions, eyes scanning over me for an explanation to my scrunched face. The pain draws tears to my eyes, but I fight them, forcing myself to breathe through it instead.
"Bad idea moving," I manage through clenched teeth.
The two of them descend on me like vultures. Sam pulls my blankets back, tearing my gown to the side to check my wounds.
"Hey, privacy please," I demand, feebly attempting to push my gown over my naked crotch. Sam rolls his eyes before scrutinizing over the blood spattered gauze.
"It's not like we haven't seen it all before," Dean mutters, checking the wrap on the knife wound on my upper abdomen.
"Yeah, well still…" My eyes travel up to the ceiling hiding my blush. I'm not a shy person. Hell, we've all seen each other naked more than a few times thanks to the shared motels we had when money was tight. But after today, I think both brothers have seen more than I ever wanted.
"You ripped a stitch," Sam remarks with a pointed look as he covers me back up. Dean's already moving to the door before Sam's even finishes,
"I'll go find a nurse."
"Hey!" He stops in the doorway, staring at me with a confused look. "Whatever you got swimming in the Dean Winchester think tank, drown it because I'm serious when I say I don't blame you. We do what we have to; we're family."
A quick nod is all he manages, clearing his throat, "I'll be back with a nurse."
I lay back with a long sigh, watching the cheesy soap opera that's running. I scoff at the lame writing, rolling my eyes as a character walks in claiming he is the main character's long lost brother.
"You want to change it?" Sam asks, and I lay my hand out in expectation. He presses the remote into my open palm and I click the mute button, internally relieved as the actor's annoying voices quiet. Sam turns in his seat, facing me, gaze focused on the blue blanket on the bed. I twirl the remote around in my hands. We need to talk about what happened in that room. I can't let it come between us because I love these boys. They are all that I have left.
"You don't have to say anything," he comments softly, hands clasped together. But it's a lie. He needs me to tell him it's okay, just like Dean needs to hear me say I don't blame him. We walk around with more baggage than any human can carry. Sam doesn't need this on his conscience, thinking that he used me.
"Yeah, I do." I meet his soft, hazel, puppy eyes, stretching my hand out for his. He grabs mine and I squeeze it. "You two mean the world to me. I wouldn't have asked anyone else to be there. Even if the roles were reversed and you had to do what Dean did, I would still feel the same way. I don't regret what happened and it's not going to change anything between us. I promise you. I still love you, gigantor."
He lets out a long breath that ends in a small laugh, squeezing my hand before pulling away. It could have been Dean and I'd still say the same thing. These two brought me back from a place that I thought I could never come back from. I would do anything in my power to protect them. He leans over and kisses my forehead, brushing my hair back, "We will always be here for you, A."
"I know."
Dean walks back into the room with a doctor in a white coat and a nurse in blue scrubs behind him. The doctor is dark skinned with horse rimmed, black glasses and close shaven, graying hair. The nurse beside him is a young man with short almond colored hair and gentle blue eyes. He gives me a wide smile, coming towards me,
"So, you're the one that almost gave these two a heart attack?"
The younger Winchester steps back and lets the nurse in, going to stand by his brother. I look over at the two, smirking, "Yep, it's my job to drive them crazy." A hint of a smile tugs at Dean's lips with my comment.
The doctor looks over the wound with the nurse and I sink back into the pillow, listening as the doctor orders another dose of morphine. The nurse works on administering that and I let my eyes fall shut.
I'll be okay. So will the boys. They are my saving grace, forever and always.