Dean can't even begin to count how many times he's been knocked unconscious. Be it by a punch, lack of air, being thrown through said air and hitting something hard, or being hit by something head on, it never gets any more pleasant.
What started bringing him around that time was some light shaking and panicked voices. He didn't wake up quickly, or gracefully for that matter, he simply rolled his head over and drew in a gasp of air because that did not feel good, at all.
"I'd say take it slow, but we need to get out of here."
He could somewhat discern the voice, and what it was saying, along with the urgency in it, but he couldn't make the words mean something, if that made sense. The shaking continued, but Dean was still trying to separate nightmare from reality.
It slowly came back to him that this reality was a nightmare and suddenly waking up became a lot easier. He went to stand up, but everything spun a fair amount and someone rested their hand on his shoulder.
Dean looked up, and he must have looked fairly confused, because the woman that was trying to steady him repeated her statement. "We need to go," she added urgently. Dean nodded faintly and brought his hand up to rub at his aching forehead. When it came away red, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it, and tried to shrug it off.
"Water's rising," the woman said again as the man with her tried to pull her forward, but she kept her hand on Dean.
"Water?" he muttered. Looking down, he could see that about up to his knees was covered in water. The plane was sinking, and fast, probably given that it had hit at such a high speed from so high up. How long ago had it been?
They crashed, but there was something he had to do, someone he had to call…
"Come on!" the woman actually pulled him up that time and Dean groaned, but slowly started following the man and woman out of their tiny aisle.
Once he was standing, Dean began to register just how cold the water was. It literally felt freezing, and he probably wasn't too far off given it was the Atlantic in November. It made his legs feel heavy, almost as if they were asleep.
All around them, people were crying and panicking and the staff were trying to get them to what remained of the exits before the water rose any higher. In the almost pitch black darkness, the bright orange life vests around most everyone's necks stand out as beacons.
Dean only managed to make it a few more steps before the whole plane seemed to shudder and creak. Almost immediately, it began dipping down further and the water inside started to rise. Everyone still inside began trudging through the dark water towards the emergency exits. Each step meant moving gallons of water out of the way and Dean quickly realized that jeans were not an optimal clothing choice for this scenario.
By the time they were almost to the door, the water was up to his chest and it was coming in through the door even faster. The man and woman reached the door ahead of him and said a few quick words before the man swam out, obviously pushing against the water. The woman shot Dean a glance and a small nod before she too turned and tried swimming out. Another few seconds and they were both gone, with a few more people following.
Dean quickly, or as quickly as he could, made his way over to the door with one hand to his forehead, trying to gauge if it was still bleeding. Without an excess of light, it was hard to tell. When he did make it to the door, it was mostly quiet in what remained of the plane, save for a few people and the sounds of rushing water.
He couldn't see anyone to get to them though, and if he waited a few more seconds, the door would go under and he'd be stuck in a sinking plane. For a split second, saving someone from a werewolf seemed much simpler.
Dean looked between the flooding door and the rest of the plane. He couldn't stay, that much was obvious, but he really wasn't looking forward to getting drenched, wet and half frozen jeans were bad enough.
He took another second to psyche himself up before he pushed to the door and ducked his head under. He used the door to literally pull himself past the incoming water as it rushed in, continuing to flood the plane. It took a few more seconds and a few strong kicks from legs he couldn't quite feel to get him away from the sinking mass and back to the surface.
His head broke through the water, feeling ten times worse than it did before, as if someone were literally splitting it open with an ice pick. Dean could faintly see the sinking plane in the darkness, as well as a few other swimmers around him with their life jackets.
What he couldn't see, however, was his breath coming in short gasps and forming white puffs in front of his face, but he knew they were there. There may have been something to hang onto, but he doubted it, and flipped onto his back to let the life vest hold him up a little.
Everything was just so cold and dark and hard to move. And it was freaking raining, because just being cold and in a plane crash wasn't bad enough. Even keeping afloat with his arms and legs was a bit tricky. How long would it take to get a boat or someone out to help? How far had they gone before they turned back?
Would someone reach them in time…?
Dean cut off the train of thought before it could go any further. He'd made it through worse, he had, and he could stand some cold water and a concussion.
Still, shaking in freezing water with a bleeding head wasn't the way he wanted to spend his night. And there was still something he had to do. Someone he had to call? But his phone, and his whole duffel, was lost. In hindsight, it was good he didn't bring any guns with him.
What would the Brits think when he didn't show up to the meeting? Would they know? Would they care?
Dean kept playing the guessing game with himself. It was only when he opened his eyes that he noticed the rain had stopped for a little while. He couldn't see much of the clouds aside from a bit of moon that peeked out when they shifted ever so slightly.
Just like when he'd sit on the back of the car and look at the stars, that was nice…
Dean closed his eyes and kept playing the guessing game. He kept himself afloat and kept hoping for some sort of rescue. He kept hoping that maybe the person crying off in the distance would find something to ease it. He kept wishing for a fireplace.
He kept on keeping on, floating and thinking and freezing in the middle of the Atlantic because it was the only thing he knew how to do.
I'm really sorry about the shortness of this chapter. I was sick all last week and on top of college things, I didn't have much time. I know where this story is headed, it's just a matter of getting there.
Any and all feedback would be amazing, as always :) without it, I don't know if anyone actually likes the story or not or what I should change. I'll do my best to have a longer chapter up on time next week, thanks for reading!