A/N Wow, so, it's been a while... a long while. Sorry guys I totally suck. And what's worse is that I've had the next several chapters done for months I just never sat down to edit them until just now. So as an apology I'm going to try my very best to post the rest of the chapters I have done by the end of the week. So sorry again. I hope you guys enjoy these next chapters!
Ch. 17
The Mark
"And the LORD appointed a sign for Cain, so that no one finding him would slay him." Genesis 4:15
"No," I said immediately.
Cain growled and shook his fist. I yelped at the pain that burst from my scalp as he tore some of my hair out by its roots.
I quickly amended, "Abbadon! She was the one who killed her!" My mind was racing. What had my alter egos gotten me into? What twisted version of myself did what Cain was accusing me of? For some reason, I didn't doubt for a second that some version of me did what he said. The only questions were how and why.
"You were the one who put her up to it." Cain slid the knife another inch, but instead of cutting across my throat, he pulled the blade down towards my collarbone.
"What are you talking about!" I yelled in a mixture of pain, frustration, and fear. The cut Cain had made itched and burned, stinging as sweat accumulated on my skin from the pain.
Cain snarled and let the knife clatter to the floor. The sound made me jump, and he tugged my head back before placing his palm roughly on my forehead. Pain shot through my skull like he was pushing an ice pick between my eyes.
Suddenly the pain stopped. I felt thick and cottony like I was buried under a pile of heavy wool.
There was no sound, no light, no nothing. Until…
Colors and sound flooded me all at once. I was by the side of a busy cobblestone road. Carriages and horses clicked and thudded against the stone and rose over the din of voices. The smell of wet dirt filled my nose. The door to a tavern opened, and the smell of beer and an earthy stew wafted into the air.
I light warm hand settled on my forearm, and I turned. A young woman, no, Collette had woven her arm through mine and rested against me. We were like two intimate friends out for a stroll in the town. It occurred to me at that moment that it wasn't like that, it was that. Collette was a friend, and by the look on her face, she was a dear friend.
And yet, I didn't feel that. I looked at her and felt empty, indifferent.
My feet moved forward of their own accord, and Colette matched my pace. There was a coach stopped by the side of the road, and the horses were dipping their long mouths into the feed sacks tied around their necks. A young man was brushing down the sides of one of the horses, and a young lady was waiting in the carriage with a bored expression on her face.
My eyes turned toward the horses, and I felt a film slide over my sclera almost as if I had closed my eyes. The horses neighed and whinnied in fear, bucking and stomping at the ground before taking off in a sprint towards us. Collette froze in horror as the horses barreled closer and closer. The left corner of my lips quirked slightly upwards, and the horses became frantic with panic. The young woman in the carriage had leapt off the vehicle gracefully before the horses had taken off and she was watching with mild interest. The man, on the other hand, sprinted towards us waving his hands and calling at us to move out of the way.
We didn't budge an inch.
Finally, the man stopped in the center of the road, his eyes turned black, and the horses' knees buckled underneath them. They crashed into the ground, mud spraying up into the air and sticking to their hides.
Collette and I remained untouched. The young man, who I now recognized as a young Cain, made his way over to us.
"Are you alright?" He asked us, and I smiled at him.
"We are now."
In the background, I watched the woman who had been in the carriage narrow her eyes at us.
The scene melted away like chalk drawings in the rain. A ringing sounded in my ears like thousands of brass bells swinging back and forth in my skull. Vibrating in a syncopated chaos that made the pain of the volume that much worse. I tried to cover my ears but couldn't because they didn't exist. Nothing existed except the noise and the pain. Slowly the sound became more defined. I started to pick out voices.
Why shouldn't he be mine! He is my king.
I could pick out my voice among the others, "He's going to abandon you, Abaddon."
Not if he doesn't have anything to abandon me for.
All at once, I existed again. I opened my eyes and blinked away the red stickiness that was cloaking them. Cain's fist was no longer tangled in my hair. I was lying on my back shaking and sweating from the ordeal I'd just endured. My fingers flew to my cheeks, and I realized that I'd been weeping blood, blood that also trickled down my ears and coated the inside of my mouth with its metallic warmth.
"What—" My voice came out hoarse and raspy. "What was that? What did you do?"
Cain towered over me, "I made you see, I made you remember."
"I wanted the Knights dead," I whispered, "But you wouldn't kill them unless someone gave you a reason to. I threw Collette in your path,"
Dean stopped struggling in disbelief.
"But I'm not the same person!" I promised, my voice wavered as another wave of pain washed over me. After the lobotomy, every single injury seemed to sing with renewed vigor. My nose throbbed as if I'd just been punched. My throat ached like the fingers that had tried to choke the life from me were still there, pressing. My brain pounded in my skull, pushing against the dura and the bone. A slick sheen of sweat covered my body and chilled me despite the heat that seemed to burn on the surface of my skin. The delicate white china on Cain's shelves shuddered along with me for a moment, and their tinkling chimes filled the room.
"I can make it up to you," I continued. Cain looked at me but didn't seem appeased. "We came here for the Mark and for the Blade. We want to kill Abaddon."
"Do not," Cain growled, "treat me like a fool. You want to kill Abaddon because she's after you. Isn't she? You're not killing her for me, for Colette. You're killing her for yourself."
"I'm killing her for everyone." I insisted with a little more strength. "Dead is dead…" I shook my head in wonder, "Why do you care why?"
Cain didn't answer, all he did was snap and release Dean and Crowley. When Dean's boots hit the floor, he grunted from the impact. Crowley stood up shakily and followed Dean who made his way over to me and helped me to my feet. I wiped the blood from under my eyes and tried to ignore the stinging pain.
I saw Dean grit his teeth and move to confront Cain, but I wrapped my fingers around the sleeve of his jacket and pulled back sharply.
"Don't; I needed to know."
Cain's nostrils flared, and he turned his back to us. "Get out of my house."
"No," Dean growled.
"Dean," I warned quietly. "Let's just—"
"We're not leaving here without what we came for."
Cain turned to face Dean who only faltered for a moment before squaring his shoulders.
Cain almost smirked…almost. "I see the part about you being brave rings true, Dean Winchester."
"Dean," I repeated, and he shot me a withering look, but I didn't back down. "It's better this way, let's just go."
"No, I need that blade!" Dean shouted, and I watched stunned at the expression on his face. It was angry and desperate.
Cain looked at him with a curiosity I hadn't seen before. The anger fell from Dean's face, and he looked at me before stalking over to one of the windows. He yanked the curtains open and stiffened.
"You expecting visitors?" He looked over his shoulder and asked Cain.
"No," Cain replied flatly.
Crowley joined Dean and cursed, "Demons, Abaddon's by the looks of them."
"You lead them straight to me," Cain shook his head.
"Can you keep them out?" Dean addressed Cain.
"For a time," He answered and began to walk away. Dean glanced at us. We weren't going to get any help from Cain.
"Barricade the doors," Dean commanded, and I nodded, the adrenaline of the coming fight distracting me from the pain. Dean ordered Crowley to the other door, and I helped him push the bookshelf he'd crashed into in front of the door. Cain sat down at his kitchen table.
I pulled out the angel blade I'd stolen from Sam out of my pocket, I juggled its weight in my palm and tried to get a feel for its balance. Dean pulled out the demon knife. We could hear the demons pounding and snarling just outside the door. The walls of the house shook with their attacks.
Cain pulled one of the brown bags on the table towards him and pulled out its contents, corn. He pulled the green husks off the corn in fluid motions. The sound of silky tears filled the room.
"You're just gonna sit there and shuck corn?" Dean growled at Cain.
"Don't waste your breath, Dean. He's not gonna help," I sighed.
Cain cocked his head and glanced at me before giving me a small bitter smile. He snapped his fingers, and several demons broke through before the door slammed shut again and locked them in the house with us.
Two lunged at Dean, and one swung out and caught my jaw with its fist. My vision blurred for a moment from the shock of pain, but I still managed to duck the next punch. I dove under the demon's armpit, and it spun around to follow after me. I plunged the angel blade into its side as it turned. The demon's momentum pushed the blade in all the way to its hilt, and it shrieked as it burned into non-existence.
I turned around wildly trying to orient myself before I finally found Dean. He had plunged the demon blade into one of the demons but hadn't been able to pull it out. He was dodging another female demon's knife and throwing quick punches at her whenever there was a hole in her defense.
I gritted my teeth and pulled out the demon blade from the man's body with a sickening squelch; I could feel the serrated edges catch on bone and flesh, before tossing it to Dean.
"Dean!"
He glanced at me in time to see the blade fly towards him. Dean caught it with one hand and in a single fluid motion plunged it into the demon's heart.
Dean pulled out the blade with a grunt and turned to look at me. I grinned at him. We were a good team when we weren't at each other's throats.
His eyes widened. "Avery!"
I felt an earth-shattering pain explode in my skull. White stars burst across my vision. The room around me rushed away, and I felt confused for a moment before I noticed, I was falling. The realization hit me only moments before I hit the ground, and I felt my teeth chatter at the force. Hot pain burst in my mouth, and the warm metallic taste of blood coated my taste buds. I had bit my tongue. I choked on the viscous liquid that pooled there, and I turned to spit it out. Was it normal for so much blood to come from my damaged tongue? I could faintly make out the sound clang of metal on the hardwood, and I looked to my side. Did they hit me with a frying pan?
"Get her!" Rang in my ears sharply and pain shot through my skull at the pitch. Get her? Get me? Why would they want me?
A pair of hands gripped my biceps and pulled me up, dragging me away from the fight. I blinked slowly and watched Dean fight off another female demon who had managed to steal the demon blade off Dean. She thrust it up into his shoulder, and he cried out, cursing. I moved my rapidly swelling tongue in my mouth gingerly, enthralled with how clumsy it felt.
My feet scraped against the wood as they continued to pull me away. I knew that I should have been doing something, fighting them off, but my limbs felt heavy like they were full of lead. I blinked again and shook my head. Waves of pain radiated outwards from where I'd been hit, and I stopped moving. Get her. I remembered at that moment who these demons were allied to.
The panic sobered me enough to start fighting.
"Avery!" Dean called out again. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the blade and pulled. Dean cried out in pain before yanking the blade completely out of his shoulder and dispatched the demon that had attacked him with an angry grunt. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I noticed thoughtfully how stiffly Dean held his shoulder. It didn't look like he could move it anymore.
I looked down at the fist around my bicep, and I bit down on his hand, hard. Blood that didn't belong to me filled my mouth. It tasted bitter and…smoky? The demon that had been dragging me yanked his hand back with a pained hissed. He backhanded me across the face and dropped me. I felt a crack, and my nose and mouth throbbed with new pain. More blood poured out of my nose and clogged it making it difficult to breathe. With noisy opened mouth breaths I scrambled to my feet. But no matter how much I tried I felt like I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. My blade, where had I dropped my angel blade? My eyes darted around the room as the two remaining demons started to close in on me.
"Get down!" Dean yelled, and I ducked. The demon blade sliced through the air and impaled the demon to my left. It perished with an agonized shriek.
My eyes landed on a glint of silver just underneath the counter, and I dove towards it. Mild pain shot up my knees when I hit the floor, but I ignored it and pulled the blade into my hand triumphantly. I scrambled to my feet but got knocked back down when Dean's body collided into mine and sent us flying into the cabinets. The wood splintered behind me, and the force of the collision knocked the wind out of my lungs. I choked and sputtered out more blood that trickled down my throat.
Dean rolled off me and air rushed into my lungs. He pulled the blade out of my unresponsive hand roughly and stood. I watched as he and the demon danced around each other before one last well placed hit gave Dean the opening he needed to kill the last demon. It fell to the ground with a dull thud.
For the first time since the fight started, the room almost seemed silent. Everything was very still.
I rolled onto my knees and shook at the effort it took. Dean's head fell back, and he let out a strained breath before dropping the blade and cradling his left shoulder.
Bits of wood, broken glass, and ceramic cut into my flesh as I pushed myself up onto my feet. I gingerly wiped my nose, and bloodstained my sleeve. Crowley waltzed back into the room virtually untouched, and I scowled at him but winced at the pain it drew from my newly damaged nose. Dean straightened and glared Cain down; he hadn't moved a muscle during the entire fight. He had just sat there and watched quietly.
We could still hear the rabid growls of the demons outside. We could hear them circling the house and pounding against the wooden slats of the door. Cain didn't allow more demons to slip through; he just sat there watching. Dean quickly lost his patience and anger managed to wipe any pain off of his face.
"So what? Was this a test?"
Cain lifted his chin. "I felt connected to you from the moment you stepped through that door. It's no wonder this one," He glanced at me and back at Dean, "attached herself to you so quickly."
Dean reared back slightly in disagreement at that, and so did I. I hadn't attached myself to anyone, especially not Dean Winchester.
"You're just like me," Cain finished.
"And how's that?" Dean sneered. I moved towards him, creeping slowly until I was at his elbow.
Cain stood, and the wooden chair he had been sitting in scraped across the floor before catching on one of the fallen demons. "You're a murderer, Dean Winchester."
Dean paused, "Maybe, but I didn't kill my brother. I saved him."
The way Dean had said that it felt like he couldn't emphasize he strongly he felt it, how important that distinction was.
Cain nodded, "Why?"
Dean almost scoffed in anger and disbelief, "Why? Because he's my brother, that's why. He's family. You never give up on family, ever." Dean seethed.
"And here you are, saving him again," Cain crossed his arms.
"You're goddamned right," Dean said. He shook for a moment, and his hand shot out to steady himself by gripping the hard wooden back of the chair. I reached for him without thinking, but stopped myself quickly, my hand hovering in midair for just a moment before I jerked back. I could see Dean gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw. Sweat trickled down his temple. He was very pale, too pale.
"I wonder, does your brother deserve such devotion? Does he share your philosophy?" Cain waltzed up to Dean, and in response, Dean stood up straighter. His fist closed around the chair more tightly. My head throbbed even more at Cain's proximity as if it could remember what Cain had subjected it to.
"Of course he does," Dean spat, "I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, and honestly? I don't really care. Are you going to give me what I need, or what?"
Dean's skin had gone from pale to grey and chalky, but he stood up straight and defiant. I knew better than to think he was fine. I could see the slight tremor shaking his body and the way he gripped the back of the wooden chair. How that white-knuckled grip was the only thing keeping him upright. Blood flowed from the wound in his shoulder freely, soaking through his shirt and staining his jacket.
"I can give you the mark, Dean if that's what you really want," Cain rolled up his sleeve to reveal the angry red brand on the inside of his forearm. I felt sick looking at it. I could almost feel the pulsing darkness that emanated from it.
"It can be transferred," Cain continued and drew his fingers across the mark gently as if caressing a lover, "to someone worthy of it."
Dean cocked his chin, "You mean a killer like you."
Cain nodded and clenched his fist, the skin around the mark pulled taught and bringing it into sharp relief, "Yes. But it comes with a great burden. One might call it a great cost."
"Dean," I interjected and they both turned to look at me as if they'd forgotten I was standing there. Crowley all but glared at me for interrupting. "You don't have to do this. We can find another way."
Dean's nostrils flared, "Sam doesn't have time for another way." He turned back to Cain. "Where do I sign?"
"Good luck, Dean," Cain extended his hand and Dean had to let go of the chair to shake it. I stepped closer to him and wrapped my fist into the cloth of his jacket at the small of his back to provide him some stability.
Dean jerked when Cain tightened his grip and then pulled Dean's arm towards him, "You're going to need it," Dean didn't have time to prepare himself when an angry red welt blossomed on his forearm and grew into the mark. Dean cried out at the burning heat on his arm before it faded. Cain's arm was suddenly blemished free, and Dean's wasn't. When Cain let go of Dean's arm, he swayed. I wrapped my arm around his waist and helped him remain standing until Dean had regained his balance.
Dean looked at me, and I let go and stepped away.
You okay? I frowned at him. Dean kept staring at me silently.
Crowley clapped his hands. "Lovely, now the blade is…" He looked at Cain expectantly who glowered at him.
"The only way I could keep my promise to Colette was to throw it into the deepest ocean. The blade cannot be destroyed," Cain snapped his fingers and an oppressive weight in the air that I hadn't noticed before disappeared. Crowley's shoulders seem to lift as if he'd felt it too, "On it." He snapped his fingers and disappeared.
Cain turned back to Dean who swallowed and shook more with every passing moment, "You find the blade, kill Abaddon, but make me a promise first,"
Dean stiffened when Cain closed the little distance between us left.
"When I call you—and I will call—you come find me and use the blade on me."
Dean eyes narrowed in confusion, "Why?"
Cain's jaw clenched, "For what I'm about to do." He snapped, and the doors flew open, demons flooded into the room with wild snarls. Dean's good arm flew out in front of me, and I grabbed onto it. Cain pressed his fingers into our backs, and suddenly we were on the back porch under the screened awning.
"Dean let's go, now," I urged as I watched demons swarm around the house and flood through the front door. I had the urge to sneeze or cough or something to clear my nasal passages and my throat, but I ignored it and yanked Dean's arm to follow me.
The second we made past the screen door Dean staggered, and I was quick to catch him as best I could. I almost crumpled under his weight, but he groaned and tried to stand without me. My whole body ached, and my knees shook with the effort, but I held onto him all the same.
"How about we meet in the middle, huh buddy?" I panted, and he nodded, resting some of his weight on me. "You're going to be okay, Dean. Don't you worry."
The house behind us glowed red, and demons shrieked in their death throes.
He laughed weakly, "Yeah, sure thing, buddy."
I might've smiled if I hadn't been so scared. Scared that I was lying to Dean and to myself. Dean staggered again, and this time he couldn't catch himself. We both went down and whatever color Dean had managed to regain disappeared from his cheeks as he landed awkwardly on his injured shoulder.
"Aghh!" It was a deep guttural scream of true pain that frightened me even more. I unraveled myself from under Dean's good arm and knelt next to him as he rolled onto his back and used it to hold his shoulder.
"Shit! Dean, I'm so sorry!"
The scream turned into a laugh, harsh and forced. "Son of a bitch…are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?" Dean shot me the most charming smile he could muster through the pain and exhaustion, and I couldn't help but smile back through the tears that threatened to fall. God, what was wrong with me? Crying? Was I actually on the brink of tears? It was the pain, and the adrenaline, the shock that was making me weepy. Not—
"What can I say," I asked thickly, "You had it coming, Winchester."
Dean laughed shortly again and groaned. Every inch of him was now trembling violently, and I could hear his teeth chatter in his mouth. I had to get us out of the cold.
"I know you're tired, Dean," I put his arm around my shoulder and helped him sit up. "But, you gotta help me out. I'm not strong enough to carry you."
I tried to lift him, and a pained whine made it past his gritted teeth, "C'mon, don't be such a baby, Dean. You're a big strong man; I know you can do it. Up we go." He was so weak. So so weak. It was scarier than the demons and Cain. I had seen Dean beat up before, I'd seen Dean worse than he was at that moment, but this was real. He could die, and it would be my fault.
He scoffed, and I took the opportunity to try and lift him up again while he was distracted. Dean shifted his feet so he could stand after I yanked him up and he cried out again before leaning against me heavily.
"Ah, oh you animal…" He panted and wheezed painfully.
"We're almost there, Dean. Look at baby. She's right there."
Dean pursed his lips and continued to struggle forward until we finally made it to the driver's door of the Impala. The metal was ice cold beneath my fingertips, and I helped Dean lean against the car so that I could open the door. Both of us were shaking horribly.
"Avery," He sighed painfully, "I—ugh goddammit—I-I can't drive."
"What!" I asked horrified my teeth chattering. "You have to drive. I can't drive stick, I-I never learned how!"
Dean's legs buckled, and I caught him in time only to soften the blow. I had my arms wrapped underneath his armpits and fell with him, both of us landing on our knees.
"It's okay, I gotcha," I gasped. Dean's head lolled onto my shoulder, and I shook him a little. "Dean? Oh c'mon, Dean, don't do this to me now!" I placed my hand on his stubbled cheek and gave him a few sharp slaps trying not to worry about how cold and stiff his skin felt under my hand.
When Dean didn't respond, I cursed. "Okay, Okay, we can do this," I muttered more to myself than to Dean. I pushed him back until his legs were out from under him and leaned him back against the car, almost dropping his limp body once or twice. The blood had stopped leaking from his wound, and the blood on his shirt and jacket had hardened in the cool air.
I reached blindly into his coat for the Impala's keys. The pockets were deep and full of random scraps of paper, a few loose pens, his Zippo lighter, and—aha!—the keys. My fingers closed over the cool metal ring, and I pulled it out triumphantly before remembering that I still had to get Dean into the car and drive him to a hospital.
I unlocked the car and yanked open the Impala's back door; it creaked loudly in the now silent night. The house had gone quiet, and the red light had faded from its windows. I couldn't even hear the buzzing of bees that I'd become accustomed to.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded and bent down, wrapping my arms around Dean's torso and lifting with all my might.
"Oh, Jesus!" I groaned and widened my stance. He had to weigh at least a hundred and seventy pounds if not more. I pulled again and managed to ease his butt onto the floor of the Impala. I rested for a couple of moments and then heaved him up onto the back seat. I let him fall back as gently as I could muster so that he was now lying in the backseat with his feet still hanging out of the Impala.
"I need to work out more," I panted before running around to the other side of the car and opening the door. My heart sank into my stomach when I realized that I'd have to pull him by both arms, not just the uninjured one, to get him all the way in. My fingers flew to the point on his neck under his jaw, and I sighed in relief when I found a thready pulse still pounding just beneath the surface.
Dean would have looked almost peaceful if not for the deep pallor in his face and the blue tint on his lips. This was the first time I'd ever seen him without any of his walls up. His face was open, vulnerable. I wasn't quite sure if I liked it. I took a moment to succumb to the aches and pains the wracked my body before I shook it away and took his hands in mine, pulling and tugging him the rest of the way in. I'd almost made it through when his eyes snapped open, and he inhaled sharply. His breath caught in his throat and he choked on the pain radiating from his shoulder. I realized a moment too late that he'd woken up and tugged him the rest of the way through.
"Fuck!"
I jumped and hit my head on the roof of the Impala, screaming in pain and surprise, while Dean rolled onto his good shoulder and vomited onto the floor of the Impala.
"Dean?" I asked urgently and ignored the renewed throbbing pain in my skull. Without thinking I put my hand in his hair and ran my fingers through it before letting them rest on his temple. "Are you okay—sorry that's a stupid thing to ask."
"Can't believe…all over…what a mess…poor baby…" He groaned inaudibly. I pulled back my hand as if I'd been burned when I realized how intimate the gesture I'd made was.
"Dean, I need you to stay awake and teach me how to drive this car," I shimmied out of the back seat, shut both of the doors, and almost dived into the driver's seat of the Impala. The sour smell of vomit quickly filled the interior of the car, but I ignored it, "Dean? What am I supposed to do? You still with me?"
"Yeah…" Dean said weakly from behind me, and I glanced into the rearview mirror. He was propped up on his good shoulder. He looked weak but alert. "Put…put it into neutral before you start the car or it'll stall."
I looked around wildly, "Where is neutral? There's no 'N,' Dean!"
"Relax," Dean said in a stern voice which was blunted by its weakness. "Neutral is just in the middle. The shifter should be able to move around freely—ah!"
"Dean!" I asked alarmed and turned around. He had rolled onto his back again and was holding his shoulder. His eyes were closed tightly.
"M'fine j-just concentrate. Don't wreck my car, Avery. I-I mean it."
"Okay, okay, now what?"
"The pedal to the very left is the clutch, push it all the way down."
I did that.
"Turn on the Impala."
The car rumbled to life, and the headlights turned on. Dean groaned as the movement of the car beneath him shook his body and strained his shoulder.
"Put it into first."
The car started to make a weird grinding sound. "Wait what just happened? Dean?"
"Were you—agh—holding down the clutch?"
"You didn't say I had to keep holding it!"
"Okay, okay fine! Just, press the clutch down—HOLD IT—"
"Okay! I'm holding it jeez—"
"Put it back into neutral…did you put it back into neutral?"
"Yes!"
"Don't," Dean groaned tiredly, "get snippy with me, I'm trying to help you."
I immediately felt ashamed, "Okay sorry, what next?"
"Put it into first…"
Dean continued to guide me, and I managed to get the car rolling and onto the road. With one hand I searched on my phone for the nearest hospital and set a route on my GPS to get us there.
"Didn't…anyone ever tell you…n-not to text and drive?" Dean joked half-heartedly.
"I'm a rebel," I shot back to keep him busy. "Besides, if I end up dying in a car crash, I'll count myself lucky." A passing car's headlights filled the Impala with light for a moment, and I saw how much grayer Dean had gotten. His lips were almost white now, and his eyes were bloodshot.
"We're almost there, Dean," I promised as I watched his eyelids start to flutter.,"Don't you dare give up on me just yet."
The car sputtered and stalled about fifty feet from the emergency bay doors, "Fuck!" I tried to start it again, and I wasted a few seconds trying to put it back into first gear. I finally gave up and jumped out of the car, "Help, please somebody help me!" I cried out running towards the hospital. Two EMTs leapt up from their perches on the back of an ambulance and ran towards me. I lead them back to the Impala and tore open the backseat door. I shook Dean, but he didn't move.
"What's wrong Ma'am, what happened?" A doctor with sandy hair and brilliant blue eyes asked me while the other two pushed me aside and started assessing Dean's injuries.
A hastily fabricated explanation spilled out of my mouth as blue eyes probed my nose with his latex-gloved fingers and flashed a light in my eyes to check my pupil reactivity. When he asked about how I knew Dean, I stuttered and paused.
"H—he's my…husband."
I wanted to smack myself the second I said it, but at the same time, I reasoned with myself that they wouldn't let me stay with him unless he was immediate family. I blinked over at Dean who had been hauled onto a stretcher and was being rolled away. I ignored blue eyes and chased after the gurney.
"Hey, where are you taking him! Is he going to be alright?"
"Ma'am, please step back. Stephens, call the OR we need to get him on a table stat."
"OR? Does he need surgery? What's going on!" I begged and continued to chase Dean and the doctors through the emergency bay doors. Blue eyes had a loose grip on my forearm.
"Stephens!" One of the doctors taking Dean away barked at blue eyes.
"But doctor—"
"Kearny," The same doctor, probably the attending physician, snapped at the doctor to his left, "Take her to exam room one. Stephens, with me, now!"
Blue eyes reluctantly let go of my arm and the other doctor, Kearny, sighed and led me down the hall as his colleagues took Dean away.
"He's going to be alright though, isn't he?" I asked again as Kearny pulled me into a private exam room. The scent of disinfectant burned my nose and made me sick. I hated hospitals.
Kearny looked at me and hesitated. "We'll do our best to help your husband, Ma'am." He sat me down on the examination table and pushed me gently. I followed his lead, numb.
I might've just killed Dean Winchester.
So, pretty intense. Next chapter should be up in the next couple of days. Let me know what you think. What you liked, what you didn't like, what you want to happen, what you think will happen, etc. People who leave a review get a sneak peek of the next chapter. Thanks for the continued support and I'll see you all again soon.
Love always,
Lucy