Weakness is a mental flaw. One that's hard to shake. Tough skin is something that's grown over time.
Something I now possess.
But looking back on that day in the abandoned gas station, I know I once didn't.
If only I could've turned away from all that happened next. Part of me still wonders if I'd take that chance. Part of me is still afraid.
Cold seeped through me like ice in my veins running it's course. I blinked but darkness was all I saw. Shouting pierced the black around me and I flinched at the tone. Fear jolted me into conciousness briefly and I caught a glimpse of Dean above me.
I blinked heavily. My face was wet. Was I crying? Dean swan before my eyes.
"Don't you dare die." He scolded, and I found myself frowning inwardly. Shouldn't he want this? My death is his revenge.
The same instant I felt the weight of my body leave me his hands were under me, lifting me up. The pace he set was that of someone with concern. If I could feel pain I'm sure I'd be screaming right about now. I blinked again, my vision going in and out. One second clinging to the shadows, the next filled with Dean.
As my grasp on conciousness came back to me I tried to make sense of how he was touching me.
How had I gotten into his arms, and just where was he taking me?
I finally came around slowly, his face coming into view as if from far away. His green eyes flickered to mine and in them I read the full weight of all the anger he must've felt towards me. His strong jaw was clenched tight and I watched as a muscle ticked in it. I recoiled from the sight but his grip on me only tightened. A shadow of a beard had formed on his face, like somehow where he was happened to be beyond the laws of physics.
Black swallowed me up again but I snapped back into conciousness long enough to realize I hadn't died. Or had I? I tried to flex my hands but they remained motionless. Was I outside my body even now? If so, why couldn't I feel my skin?
I must have muttered something to that effect, because Dean's chest rumbled beneath my ear. I blinked at the reaction. How is it that I could feel Dean but had lost sense of my own skin somewhere along the way?
A second later I was back in my body. Pain flashed all over my flesh and reverberated down my left wrist. Blood still seeped from the wounds but another pair of unfamiliar hands were on me in an instant. I shot my accusing gaze to the figure above me.
"W-who?" Was all I could seem to muster. But the man above me merely shook his head.
"Stay quiet, you've lost a lot of blood. Try not to tire yourself out." His voice calmed me in a way I wasn't ready for. Where was Dean?
"Who is Dean?" The man asked. Had I spoken out loud? Is hands moved over my wrist swiftly and the pain flashed through me over and over, beckoning me into another form of torment.
I grit my teeth against it and tried to focus on the broken plaster of the ceiling above me. The gas station took on the sun from an angle I'd never seen. Dust mingled in the air where I lay, dancing in the rays of light. The usual colors of afternoon bore a strange eerie blue tinge I'd never seen except outside of my body.
Yet the pain in my wrist told me otherwise. I was very much attached to my body. Still somehow my eyes saw outside out it. I blinked against the tears forming.
I tried to reason out how anyone could be out here, on the back roads of Kansas, in the middle of nowhere. How I had ended up being saved when there hadn't been a soul for miles? I felt the strangers hands at my neck briefly, tracing my vein.
And then it was dark. And I dreamed.