**Nothing from Charmed or Supernatural belongs to me.**

Chapter Fourteen

Melinda paced around the motel room, looking very much like a caged animal. Anna sat on the bed, with her head tilted, staring out the window. Peyton sat at the table, in between them, taking deep breaths to ward off Melinda's waves of pure rage and hatred, and Anna's spaced-out grogginess. For what seemed like the 800th time since they arrived, Melinda shook her head.

"I hate you so much right now."
"I know, Mel."
"And Dean, too. I hate him so much."
"I know."
"When he gets back here, I'm giving him back this ring. After I beat the hell out of him with it."
"Good idea."
"Something's wrong."

Melinda stopped pacing and, mirroring Peyton, turned to Anna.

"What?"

Anna shook her head.

"I don't know what it is, but the angels are all a-buzz now."

Melinda coughed, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Damn you, you son of a bitch."

Peyton sighed, trying not to worry too much about Sam. That is, until Melinda cried out, hitting her knees. Peyton and Anna were able to get her up, sit her on the bed. Peyton knelt between Melinda's knees, placing her hands there.

"Mel, calm down."
"Peyton, he's hurt!"
"I know. I know. But it's him, Mel. Not you. You're okay."

Melinda nodded, sniffling, drying her eyes with the tissues Anna handed her.

"I'm going to kill him. When he gets here, I'm killing him."
"Okay, Mel. That's fine."
"And I still hate you."

Peyton smiled as she pushed Melinda's hair behind her ear.

"That's okay, too."

Twenty minutes later, when they heard the Impala roar up, Peyton gasped.

"Okay, block them. Mel, block him out."
"Peyton, I—"
"Melinda!"
"Okay."

She did, and Peyton closed her eyes blocking out everyone in the room. She could feel no one's emotions but her own. Anna stood back, taking a seat on the couch, curling up on the end of it, pulling her knees to her chest. And when the boys burst in the door, everyone shared a shocked gasp.

Sam had a gash on his arm that was steadily bleeding, and would require a few stitches. His face was cut and bloody, not much better than his brother's. Dean's mouth was bleeding, his lip was split, and his left arm hung unnaturally by his side. Melinda and Peyton swallowed as the boys sat on the beds. Peyton turned to Melinda, who was already shaking her head.

"Peyton, no."
"Come on, Mel. You can do this."
"Let's just call Chris."
"No."

She turned back to the bed where Dean was sitting, spitting blood into the trashcan.

"I so do not want to hear your voice right now. I am so mad at you."
"Then listen to me. If we call Chris, the demons who are sure to be watching us will notice. Hard to hide a Whitelighter orbing in."

Melinda closed her eyes when Sam was finished, shaking out her hands.

"Oh, I hate you all so much right now."

Sam kept on panting, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt. Peyton looked at both of the boys, blinking back the tears Sam's injuries brought to her eyes. Sam blew out a harsh breath.

"There should be a sewing kit in the bathroom. Hand it to me so I can stitch up this cut."

Peyton shot Melinda a pleading look, and Melinda blew out her breath.

"Oh, damn it! Damn you, Sam. And you too, you bastard."

Dean nodded, taking the cup of water Peyton handed him. He sloshed the water around in his mouth, then spit it into the trashcan. Melinda walked back from the bathroom and pulled up a chair beside Sam. She held out her hand and a bottle of whiskey came out of Dean's bag and settled in her hand.

"Hey!"

Dean quieted at the look Melinda gave him.

"You have no secrets, you son of a bitch. Remember that."

However, they both knew that wasn't true. Dean woke up in a cold sweat nearly every night, making it where Melinda barely slept at all. The whiskey seemed to dull the pain from the nightmares. Dean looked down, trying to ease the pain in his head and jaw, as Melinda unscrewed the top to the bottle. She poured it over the needle she got out of the sewing kit and gave Sam a healthy swig of it. Melinda took a deep breath, and Sam glanced at her.

"Mel, you don't have to—"
"Shut up, Sam."

Peyton smiled, and took hold of Sam's hand. Melinda touched a washcloth to the gash, trying to clean it off a bit. Anna walked to Melinda with a small bowl of water and a hand towel. Melinda smiled up at her.

"Thank you, Anna."

Anna nodded, and took her spot back on the couch. Melinda threaded the needle with black thread, breathing hard. Sam took in a shaky breath.

"Um, Mel?"

She looked up at him, and he went on.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Peyton nudged Sam, as Melinda tried to clean up the blood that kept pouring from the wound. Peyton sighed, looking from Sam to Dean.

"I guess we never told you guys this."
"No, we've always called a Whitelighter for shit like this."

Peyton smiled, trying to ignore Melinda.

"Well, there are two ways to become a Whitelighter. Either you're born one, like Wyatt, Chris, and Aunt Paige, or you get chosen to be one after you die. Uncle Leo was the latter of the two."
"Seriously?"

Peyton nodded to Dean.

"He was a medic in World War II. Died in the war. Therefore, he kind of carried his medical training over, and taught his kids basic survival skills."
"Like how to stitch up an arm, or pop a shoulder back in place."

Sam and Dean nodded, exchanging a glance, then looking away. Peyton noticed the tension in the air then. Melinda sighed.

"Okay, Sammy. Here we go."

He managed not to scream as the needle pierced his flesh, and Melinda managed not to throw up. Sam dropped Peyton's hand and reached for the bottle of whiskey, which she handed to him and he chugged from. Melinda kept on stitching, trying not to notice the pull of Sam's flesh, the darkness of the thread against his skin, or the blood that poured steadily from the wound and the new pricks Melinda was causing. Dean stood up and walked to the bathroom, spitting in the sink and wetting a towel, holding it to the cut on his lip. Melinda let out a sigh as she grabbed the tiny scissors from the sewing kit, and snipped off the extra thread. Sam let out a ragged breath, and Melinda took the whiskey from him.

"This'll sting."

Sam nodded, and Melinda poured some of the amber-colored liquid over the gash, and Sam groaned through clenched teeth. Melinda cleaned up Sam's arm, washing it with the water and towels, before covering it with gauze. Melinda stood up, sighing as Sam stood, walking to the bathroom to check out Melinda's handiwork. She looked at Dean, who walked over, bending down for her.

"I am so mad at you right now."
"I know, babe."

She blinked back her tears, laying one hand behind his shoulder, and the other at the top of his arm. Dean reached out and Peyton handed him the bottle, and he took a long drink. He handed the bottle back, and Melinda sighed.

"Ready?"

Dean nodded.

"On three. One…"

Melinda put all her strength into it and popped Dean's shoulder back in place. He bent almost to the floor, then walked away from her.

"Son of a bitch!"

Melinda looked down at her shaking hands.

"Hurts less if you don't see it coming."

Peyton stood up and laid a hand on Melinda's shoulder, but she shook her head, shaking Peyton off.

"Mel, calm down."

Melinda just shook her head, and Dean looked up from the bathroom, where he was holding an ice pack, and he wasn't quite sure where it had come from, against his aching shoulder. He dropped it and walked back to the bed.

"Mel, sit."

She shook her head, but Dean realized that was because her whole body was trembling.

"Baby, it's okay. We're fine. You fixed us up."

The look she gave him, while the tears welled up in her eyes, absolutely shattered his heart.

"Melinda—"
"I hate you right now. Why didn't you let me stay? I could have helped you, instead of having to put your fucking arm back in socket."
"Mel, Anna was more important than—"
"Nothing is more important than you, you arrogant asshole!"

Dean stopped at that, and Peyton let out a breath. Sam came up and stood behind her.

"Peyt, what is it?"
"She's snapping. I can't stop it, there's nothing we can do. It's going to be kind of ugly for a minute."

They turned their attention back to the show, forgetting about Anna, who was positively engrossed in the saga of Melinda and Dean. Dean sighed, running his right hand through his hair. His left arm ached like a mother.

"I know you're mad, Mel. But—"
"Mad? No, Winchester. I'm not mad. I am pissed the hell off. I am furious. I can barely look at you, because all I see is red from the intense rage I am feeling at you! I don't know how many times I'm going to have to tell you. I'm not this fragile little bird that you need to lock away. I can fight, and I am damn good at it. You should know, because I save your ass on a weekly freakin' basis."

Sam and Peyton nodded at that. Melinda was up beside Dean now, pressing a finger into his chest.

"And, for the umpteenth time, we are bonded. That means, what happens to you, happens to me. So it doesn't matter that you send me away. When you get hurt, I do too! My arm hurts in a way I have never felt before, and it's your fault. Not to mention that I've been running on fumes for days, and I haven't slept since the trip to San Antonio."

Melinda sat on the bed with a start, covering her face with her hands and bursting into tears. Dean sat beside her, until she stopped sobbing enough to speak.

"I'm just so tired! I want to sleep so bad, but I can't, because I'm worried and I'm scared, and you keep having nightmares that you won't talk to me about, so I don't sleep because I want to watch you and make sure you're okay, and I just … I can't do this anymore! I'm going to lose my mind."

Dean took her in his arms—well, his arm—and sighed. Peyton let out a long breath as Dean maneuvered them back, laying down on the pillows. Melinda sobbed into his chest for maybe thirty more seconds, then she was out. And Dean, feeling lower than dirt, let the darkness take him in, too. Peyton sighed and turned to Sam.

"That's been brewing for quite some time. It was one of her more spectacular ones, too."
"She does this often?"

Peyton smiled down at Anna.

"No. She's trying to take the weight of the world on her shoulders. That, she does often. She hasn't slept in a while, because she's worried about Dean, who's worried about her, and they're both worried about the seals and the Apocalypse, and … Everything just piles up."

Anna nodded, and Peyton glanced over at Sam, who had stretched out on their bed and was now asleep. Peyton let out a sigh of relief, and sat beside Anna on the couch.

"Good. We'll let them rest for a while. In the meantime, let's talk about you."