Wow. I was seriously blown away by all of your comments on the previous chapter. You guys are amazing and I want to give you all lots of cake and ice cream! Your support and encouragement means more than you'll ever know! I got this chapter done just in time to post it on my birthday, haha. Yay!
The largest THANK YOU of all time to Emma Winchester 424. She helped me come up with this chapter by writing Dean's lines (seriously). So we can all thank her for helping me get this out after I was slammed with a huge writer's block! She's the bomb dot com and rocks at everything. So you should most definitely check our her Dean daughter fic! She writes everyone so flawlessly and you won't be disappointed!
I hope you guys like this chapter. As always, if you have any ideas for future chapters, please send them my way! I'm always looking for new inspirations to keep this story going because I've come to love Kate so much. I couldn't do it without you guys.
Ok, now on with the show! Read, Review, but most importantly ENJOY!
Kate froze as the entire scene unfolded in front of her. She watched her brother's temple smack into the corner of the large, wooden bedpost before his body tumbled into a heap on the floor. Her eyes went wide and her heart stopped as blood began to gush out of the wound. Her hunting instincts momentarily failed her and time frantically stood still while her mind processed everything that was happening in front of her. But as the blood continued to pour out, the delayed alarm in her body finally clicked and her brain became very systematic, going through the motions almost reflexively, as if on autopilot.
Step one: Get the bleeding under control. Kate rushed into the kitchen to grab a towel before returning to her brother's side, rotating his head gently so she could see the cut better.
Step two: Apply pressure. She pressed the towel against his temple, praying it would stop the bleeding, but the beige towel only turned a dark red as the blood soaked through.
Step three: Find the first aid kit. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the kit, but it was nowhere to be found. Of course not. It was already in Dean's duffle in his car. After readjusting the cloth, she noticed the blood wasn't coming out as quickly anymore. At least that was something. She grabbed Dean's hand and placed it on top of the towel, holding it in place before she took off running out the door to get his bag.
Step four: Fix her mistake. When she walked back inside, her breath hitched in her throat at the sight before her. Dean had clearly just regained consciousness and was sitting up on the floor, leaning against the bed, the cloth still held in place by his hand. He blinked hard a few times as if trying to refocus his eyesight and adjust to the pain. His eyes instantly picked up on his sister's sudden presence.
"Just gonna leave me here to bleed to death, huh?" he grumbled under his breath, wincing in pain as he tried to stand up.
Kate rushed over to his side, discarding the bag on the floor at their feet. She grabbed onto his upper arm and guided him to sit down on the bed instead of trying to stand. "Dean, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know you'd fall. I didn't mean for this—" Her words were all jumbled together as she talked a mile a minute.
Dean held up his free hand, signaling her to stop before pointing an accusing finger her way. "Once my head stops pounding, remind me to kill you," he threatened halfheartedly. That hadn't been the response she was expecting. Where was the slur of curse words coming out of his mouth like rapid fire yelling at her? But there were wrinkles across his forehead, scrunched up as pain radiated through his face. There wouldn't be any yelling...at least not right now.
Kate smiled weakly and reached up to take hold of the towel. "Let me see."
He pulled his head back slightly from her, mumbling, "I think you've done enough." He hadn't meant for the words to leave his mouth but they just spilled out and there was no taking them back. When Kate's guilt-stricken face fell, he sighed, feeling awful himself. But he wasn't in the mood to apologize and patch things up. The throbbing sensation in his temple wouldn't leave him alone. "Just help me get to the bathroom."
"Why?"
"Need to see what kind of damage you did." Stubborn as he was, he didn't wait for her to help him and he stood up by himself. His body didn't like the sudden change in posture and Dean found himself swaying to the side, struggling to keep his balance. Within milliseconds, the youngest Winchester was on her feet, wrapping her arm around his waist to steady him.
Kate tried to let his hurtful remark slide right off her, knowing she'd messed up and deserved them and more. But she had to make things better. "How about you sit back down and I'll take a look at it."
He tried to shrug her arm off him in response. Dean Winchester wasn't one to accept help from anyone, much less his siblings. It was like flashing a neon sign that screamed "WEAK" to him. That mixed with his catastrophic levels of stubbornness often made him someone nobody wanted to deal with, especially when he was in pain. But if anyone was already accustomed to the fight, it was Kate.
"I'll be fine." He pulled the rag away slightly from his head to try and get a sense of how bad it was. He felt blood trickle down the side of his face after removing the pressure, meaning it was worse than he had thought. It wasn't just a small scratch, and well, that now explained the horrendous headache.
"See? You're not fine." She tugged on his arm slightly to get him to sit back down. At first he refused, but once his eyes looked toward the bathroom in the far corner of the room, just the mere thought of walking over there was dreadful enough that he reluctantly relented and sat down. "Now lay down," she commanded.
Dean looked at her like a stubborn kid. "I don't need to lie down."
She put a stern face on and pointed at him. "Patient." Then pointed at herself. "Doctor."
"No." He pointed first at himself then at her. "Victim. Almost murderer."
There was no argument there from Kate as she stayed silent. He turned his head to glance at the clock and the abrupt movement of his head caused him to hiss in pain. The sudden noise brought Kate back to the task at hand. "Fine. Wait here."
Like there was anywhere for him to go in this state.
She went over to the kitchen and got a glass of water before rummaging through his bag for the first aid kit. Handing the cup to him, she pulled out one pain pill and held it out in front of him. Dean's tired eyes danced between her and the medicine. "One? You're joking," he said flatly. "You bashed my head in and offer me one?"
Kate took a deep breath, biting her bottom lip. She wanted to fight back, let the sarcasm roll right off her tongue at him, but the guilt forced her to keep it on lock down. He had every right to be pissed. She replied, trying to sound reasonable, "Yes, one. You were unconscious. Might have a concussion."
Dean looked at her like she'd said the dumbest thing known to man. "And since when has that stopped us from chugging the entire bottle?"
He was right. Normally Dean would swallow a handful of pills he didn't even bother to count and then wash it all down with half a bottle of whisky. But this time it had been Kate's fault that he was even hurt to begin with, so she had to follow all the necessary protocols and not risk making anything worse. Masking his pain could also cover up a more serious symptom of a concussion and that was the last thing she wanted.
She waved her hand around again, signaling for him to take the pill. He laid the towel down beside him on the bed and reached out for the pill, swallowing it effortlessly before drinking water. As he did that, Kate took a moment to examine the wound. Thankfully the bleeding had almost stopped but there were streaks of dried blood all across the side of his face. It was a good thing that blood didn't make her squeamish at all. It was the part of their lives that she'd grown accustomed to over time. But there was something about seeing an injury that she caused that made the gaping hole in her stomach grow wider.
"Now shut up and lie down. I'm not telling you again," she said firmly, trying to keep up her tough exterior.
Had it been any other scenario when she was bossing him around like that, he would have fought back, but to be honest, he didn't have the energy and judging by the amount of blood on the cloth, he knew it was pretty deep and needed to be looked at anyway.
He gently laid down on the bed, resting his throbbing head against the pillow as Kate ran off to the kitchen to get a damp rag. She snatched the first aid kit and got on the bed, positioning herself perpendicular to his head, crossing her legs Indian style. She tenderly turned his head to the side, so the wound was facing up at her.
After patting it a few times with the rag, Dean spoke up. "It better not be bad. This," he motioned to his face, "This is my money maker." Even though his voice was full of sarcasm, there wasn't a hint of hate behind his words.
Kate couldn't help but roll her eyes as she began to thoroughly examine the wound with her fingers. "You make it sound like you're a stripper."
He put on a haughty, joking face. "You don't know everything about me."
"Yeah, well, that makes two of us then." She tried to make sure her voice sounded joking, but it wasn't hard to tell there was a hidden meaning behind that sentence. Because Kate had her own long list of real secrets she'd kept over the years. Some small, like stealing a candy bar more than once, and some big ones, too…like stealing the Impala or applying for college. She continued to examine the wound and regretfully announced with a elephant ton of remorse, "I'm sorry, Dean, but this is going to need stitches."
Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. "I'd rather walk around with a gaping hole in my head, thanks." He closed his eyes, willing his headache to go away, but he knew that wouldn't be happening soon since one pain killer wouldn't even work on his best day. His body had built up quite an immunity to them.
"Knock it off, Dean," she lightly scolded as she started to search through the kit for the necessary items. "Just let me help you, okay?"
"Well, at least get me the bottle of bourbon before you get going. You owe me that," Dean grumbled as he struggled to sit up and fell back against the pillow as his pounding head became too overwhelming for a moment.
Kate sighed but didn't fight him on the alcohol request. She rolled off the bed and grabbed the bottle of bourbon that Dean had stashed there like he did at every motel. He called it his version of a guard dog—always by his side. Kate's hand rested on the back of his shoulder and guided him as he tried to sit up again. She was nervous that his body might give out at any moment.
"Two sips, that's all you get. I'm not stitching up a drunk you again." They'd been down that road once, the second time she'd ever stitched him up. One would think drunk Dean getting sewed up would be a funny, pleasant version of himself, but he had been the complete opposite. He moaned and groaned about everything, from how she had dressed that day to why the motel had decided to paint the walls an ugly color of vomit.
He just glared at her and made sure to take two long pulls from the bottle. He handed it back to her with evident unwillingness. "Keep that close," he paused before he laid down again. "Alright, let's do this."
She grabbed the bottle and stared at it for a moment, a sudden thought rushing through her mind. Turning around to put it back on the floor, she made a spur of the moment decision and took a tiny sip herself. It burned as it went down her throat and she momentarily regretted having done it, but her desire to take the edge off her own guilt had won over. She then repositioned herself on the bed like she had been before. As she slowly threaded the needle before starting, she said, "Okay, you'll probably only need two. So no crying like a baby, got it?"
He sat up in almost reflexive outrage. "I do NOT cry like a baby!"
Kate's eyebrows went sky high as she leaned back slightly, pulling the needle away from his face. "Dean! Now's not the best time to be throwing a fit." She held up the needle. "I have a freaking pointy object close to your eye. Do you want to go blind?" His only response was an annoyed face and pursed lips. "Now lie down and shut up, you big baby."
He laid back down with a grumble. "YOU'RE a big baby." He closed his eyes and waited for the torture to begin.
Kate didn't even feel the need to respond to his nonsense. Once he was in place, she leaned in closer and focused on the task at hand. She took a deep breath, wanting to do the best job she could and fix her horrible mistake. "'Kay, take a deep breath." She slowly inserted the needle through both sides of the skin and tied the first stitch with great precision and skill that she'd acquired over the years by practice and studying.
When that needle first pushed through his skin, he tried to keep his face stoic, but he had to pinch his lips together to keep from letting a sound escape his lips.
She could see Dean trying to hold his hiss in pain inside and it killed her. There was nothing worse than seeing her eldest brother try to hold back from the pain she was causing him. And she had a front row seat to witness it, only making it worse. She quickly, but carefully, did the second stitch. "Almost done..." She cut the thread. "There, Humpty Dumpty is back together again."
"Good. Gimme the bourbon" were the only words out of his mouth as he sat up at snail's pace.
Kate rolled back and grabbed the bottle resting on the floor, handing it to him. "So we gonna get drunk together again?" She flashed him a light-hearted grin, trying to lighten the mood in an attempt to erase the guilt she felt. The first and only time they'd gotten drunk together hadn't quite turned out the way she had planned, but she didn't care. She'd do anything to erase the memories of this afternoon.
"I will be getting drunk and you will be making sure you didn't give me brain damage." There was no anger or hostility in his voice. Whether he felt it or not, Kate didn't know, but at least he didn't show it. Dean was always one to react in the moment and then once it had settled in, the emotions left his body like the ocean waters being pulled back to sea. And then he'd be normal again—the same sarcastic brother who couldn't go two sentences without jabbing at his little sister.
However, even though he didn't sound angry, Kate couldn't help but take his words to heart and her shoulder fell slightly. "Dean, I'm really sorry. You have to know I wasn't expecting this to happen! It was, I mean, we were just playing around and...and then..." Her voice trailed off and she couldn't finish her sentence. Because finishing it meant recounting the awful imagine of watching her brother's temple smack into the post and crash onto the floor, momentarily unconscious.
"Well you should have been more careful, Kate."
"I know…," her voice trailed off. And there was a beat of silence before anyone spoke again.
Dean sighed heavily. He didn't have to look at his sister's face to see all the emotion she was trying to keep pushed down. Just hearing her say those two words was enough for him to realize the overbearing amount of guilt she was throwing on herself. So he did the only thing he could do to try and take that away from her-because no matter what she might do in life, that was always going to be his job. "Yeah, well, it was also my own damn fault for tickling you so hard." He took a slug of bourbon.
"But it wasn't your fault, Dean. You can yell at me, you know. I won't be mad or yell back or…"
His response was another savory sip of booze and changing the subject. He didn't have the energy or will power to be angry with her. It was a stupid accident from them horsing around. Granted she had been the one to start everything, but he'd much rather be the one who got hurt than his sister. Any day. "So you gonna tell me where my keys are yet?" He completely ignored her question. He wasn't going to start playing the blame game because in the land of Winchesters, that game went round and round faster than a carousel and quite frankly, nobody ever won.
Kate would have loved to keep the hiding game going but she couldn't. She knew it had reached its end in the most awful of ways. She sighed and slowly walked over to the fridge, opening the freezer. Reaching behind the ice cream carton, she grabbed the keys. After making her way back over to the bed, she tossed them beside her brother as she took a seat. "Here." She couldn't met his eye and to keep herself from begging for forgiveness, she joked, "You have to admit though, I picked a damn good hiding spot."
And Dean's sarcasm didn't miss a beat, even with a blow to the head. "You did. And it's giving me a great idea of what to do with your body after I kill you."
The youngest Winchester stared at her hands resting in her lap. "If you're gonna kill me, just make it quick." She took a deep breath. "And so you know, I promise to never do it again."
He looked at her and now he felt guilty for making her feel bad. Round and round they go… "Good. So let's see what kind of job you did on the money maker. Am I allowed to get up now, Nurse Ratchet?"
She gripped onto his upper arm. "Only if you let me help you." Her stern green eyes showed him she had no plans to back down.
"I don't need help, Kate." He tried to stand, but he was still woozy. He finally grouched, "Okay, just this once."
She wrapped her arm around his waist to steady him as they started off toward the bathroom. "See? Was that so hard to admit?" But knowing Dean, it actually was really hard to admit.
He just grumbled an inaudible response. They finally made it to the bathroom and stopped in front of the bathroom mirror. He put his hands on the counter and gingerly turned his head to the side. "Huh."
Kate's heart was pounding hard against in her chest. Huh?! Was that a good huh or a bad huh? She glanced rapidly between his mirror reflection and actual face, anxiously waiting for him to give more detail, but too afraid to directly ask him what he meant.
Dean slowly turned his head again, examining her work. After a lifetime, he finally answered, "Good. Real good. Wow."
Kate just continued to state, unsure what she'd heard. "Good?" She stood up a little straighter and smiled a little. "You sure? 'Cause I could do them again or add another if you think..."
Dean was still examining his face, totally missing the smile on Kate's. "Naw- no need. You nailed it, midget. Damn. Dad himself couldn't have done better."
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the compliment. "Really? I, uh, thanks Dean."
"You know, you're pretty good at this." He turned and looked at her, leaning up against the bathroom sink.
Kate shook her head, never being one to accept compliments well. "Maybe."
There was a beat of silence as she was momentarily lost in her own thoughts. Receiving that compliment was unexpected but it was just what she'd needed. Only last week she had submitted her college application for nursing school. There had been so many doubts in her mind, feeling like she was doing something wrong, something she'd never be good at. Her pessimistic side told her every night that it would never work out anyway, no matter how much she'd practiced taking care of her family over the years, no matter how hard she dreamed of getting out of this life. But hearing Dean say she'd actually done a good job…better than their father could have…it was the right amount of encouragement to put those doubts to rest. She could do it. She could be a nurse and she'd be a damn good one at that.
All of these thoughts that poured through her mind at lightning speed didn't register more than a hint on her face. She looked at Dean again and smiled, bringing herself back down to Earth. "Now you just better take care of it so your brain doesn't get infected."
"Shut up. So what now? You think I've got a concussion or something?"
She reached up and examined his stitches one last time, wanting to make sure it was perfect, and said, "You might. You did black out for a minute, Dean. So there's no way I'm letting you leave tonight."
He growled in frustration, but he knew she was right. "Then check and see if I have a damn concussion, and if I don't, I'm outta here first thing in the morning."
Kate crossed her arms, recognizing his difficult and defiant tone. "Unless you have an MRI machine in the Impala that I don't know about, I can't exactly test for a concussion. I will, however, be waking you up every three hours to make sure you're still not dead…and I'll be the one deciding if you're leaving or not. Got it?" Her voice was full of authority.
And Dean wasn't one to accept that kind of tone from his younger sister. He was the one running the show and calling all the shots after all. "Excuse me?" Cue the single eyebrow lift.
She knew that look. It meant he didn't like being bossed around even if she was completely in the right this time. Taking a deep breath to not spew out a sarcastic remark, she replied, "I mean…I'll give you my professional opinion and you can decide what to do with it." She stared at the floor, knowing that tone was off limits with Dean, not to mention after cracking his head open.
"That's better," he said flatly. He turned to walk out of the bathroom and Kate quickly grabbed onto him again. He tried to bat her hand away, but she was persistent. Finally they made it over to the bed again and he sat down with a groan. "So my professional opinion is to never tickle you again."
A smile formed across her face. "Well I agree with you there, you know, professionally speaking. You should just never bother me again for that matter. I hope this teaches you a lesson." She pointed a finger at him like she was scolding a little boy.
He made a face at her. "Yeah. I learned to never ever let my keys out of my sight. And that you kick like a girl. Now go get me some ice." He pointed to the fridge without even looking at her.
"Yes sir," she announced in a fake soldier voice. "But you could always use your keys. I bet they're still cold." Her grin spread from ear to ear.
"Holding cold metal against the gaping hole you punctured in my head will give me tetanus. Ice. Now." He pressed his fingers on his forehead, gently moving them in circles. "And you could give me a massage while you're at it!"
Kate rolled eyes dramatically. "I am NOT giving you a massage. Just be grateful I fixed you up." The only response from him with something low and inaudible, so she made her way to the kitchen to get an ice pack for him. Then she sat down on the bed beside him but didn't hand over the ice just yet. She passed it back and forth between her hands as she contemplated what to say next. "I feel so bad about all this. I just don't..." Know what to tell Dad. "How about we leave for the hunt now? I'll drive and you can pass out in the backseat. That way you don't have to get behind schedule." And that way Dad doesn't get pissed at the both of us and I can sleep with less of a guilty conscious, knowing you won't get yelled at. The last thing either of them needed was John yelling at them for messing around with each other when they knew better.
Dean could read between the lines of what she was saying. He was genuinely moved that she was trying to cover for him, but of course he couldn't tell her that. And he really didn't want her to miss any school. He had been very firm about that with John before. He reached over and took her hand to stop her from throwing the ice pack back and forth. "Kate. It's okay. Don't worry about it. I'll make it in plenty of time tomorrow, okay? Dad won't even know." He pulled the ice pack out of her hands, because of course that was what he was going for. It wasn't connecting with his sister at all. That's for girls. He placed the ice pack on his new stitches. "You know, you're not half bad at this nursing thing. It would help if you're not the one causing the injuries, but other than that, you're okay."
She nodded and felt her cheeks begin to flush. It was exactly what she wanted to hear, but there was a small part of her that was wondering why he was saying these things...did he know that she'd applied to college? Why had he said nursing instead doctor or something else along those lines? She quickly tried to convince herself that it was nothing more than a coincidental word choice. It was impossible for him to know because she had done everything while she was at school. That thought settled her fears momentarily as she returned her attention to Dean, and she made a mental note to cover for him if and when their dad called. This was all her fault after all. "Ha, yeah, maybe in another life I'd be a nurse..."
"Yeah, well it's a good plan for you to fall back on, 'cause you suck at everything else. I mean, come on. You saved the money maker." He grinned at her.
Kate secretly hated that he was acting so cool about everything that happened. Maybe it was the pounding headache that was keeping him from ripping her to shreds and yelling her ear off. Her shoulders fell as she glanced at his stitches. "I didn't save it. You do know that no matter how awesome my stitches are, it'll probably still leave a small scar."
Dean didn't even flinch when she said it. Of course he knew that. He had a handful of other scars to prove that was a fact. He threw back at her without missing a beat, "It's fine." He smirked his classic grin, showing her it really was okay. "Besides, chicks dig scars."