The energy wave stops the bullet in its tracks. Dean's eyes are wide, scared, more vulnerable than Sam's seen them in a long while, because Marie is completely unharmed but for a small bruise where the bullet dropped on her forearm and the knot Dean gave her when he knocked her out, and she's starting to wake up. First a flutter of the lashes, then lazy, exhausted blinking, her eyes focusing on random points around her. Sam rushes to her side, pushing Dean back a few steps, and lifts her head, cradling her body close to his solid warmth. He glares back at Dean, nostrils flaring, as Dean drops the gun out of shock.
"She's too weak to do much," Sam says. "Are you satisfied now?" Dean says nothing. "Are you willing to at least be civil, then?" Dean nods wordlessly. "Good. Get her in the car and drive her to the motel. I don't care which car you take, but she'll either have to lean back in the seat or lay with her head on your leg. Her head has to stay elevated, do you hear me? And you had better get used to being her chauffeur because you're watching her until she's better just like she did for you." Dean sets his jaw and crosses over Marie's body before squatting to lift her in his arms. He moves resolutely towards the Miata, and his eyes are glass. Marie tilts her head against his arm and looks up at him.
"Dean," she whispers, and smiles a little. "I knew you'd save me." She fades out of consciousness again and he is left staring at the little smile on her face, the one of surety and of trust.
Sam is behind them, ready to open the Miata's little red door, when Dean changes his mind and changes his path, heading for the Impala. If he's going to watch over her, he had better do it right.
He arranges her in the front seat with more care than he's shown anything in a month or more, her head pillowed softly on his thigh and her knees tucked up near her chest. Sam grabs the blanket out of Marie's car and arranges it over her, and Dean puts in a tape of something other than mullet rock, though not mellow enough to be really called pop. He looks up at Sam and the younger man can see how sick Dean really feels, that he might have killed someone who trusts him so implicitly, who never suspected him of any ill will. The Impala door closes, Marie shifts and sighs, and Dean starts up the car. Her breath is hot against his jeans, a constant reminder of the life he almost wasted.
He's already gone by the time she wakes up, under the covers but still in her clothes. Sam is sitting in a chair beside her bed, head bowed and hands folded. She has the presence of mind to wait until he whispers an 'amen' to shift in the bed, trying to sit up.
"Hey, hey, hold on," he says, unfolding his lanky frame to help her. "You're still out of sorts from that energy blast." She lets him help her and runs her hands fruitlessly through her hair. "Is there anything I can get you?" She nods.
"Water," she croaks, "a hairbrush, and some toothpaste." He grins and nods, bringing first the water, then a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a little bowl to spit in, finally laying the hairbrush on her lap. "You are a lifesaver, Sam," she sighs, leaning back against the pillows. He just grins and shakes his head.
"No, that would be you, witch." She smiles, her eyes closed, because his voice makes the term sound like an endearment. "Are you hungry? Your blood sugar must be low – Dean's supposed to be back soon with apple juice, but for now I have some trail mix with M&Ms, raisins, and peanuts." He offers up the bag and she takes a handful before patting his baby-smooth cheek with her free hand.
"Well, aren't you just the smartest! I thought you were pre-law, not pre-med." He blushes and smiles bashfully.
"Jess was pre-med," he says softly, and her delicate hand drops to rest on top of his big one, though it can't cover it.
"You know where we should go next?" she asks after a long moment, a conspiratorial smile gracing her face. He shakes his head.
"Where?"
"To New York. I want to meet Sarah." He grins and drops his head, meaning to respond, but just then Dean kicks the door to the adjacent room open, hollering.
"Okay, I've got apple juice for Sleeping Beauty, three pints of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, which I maintain is chick food, and three Hungry Man dinners because I just had to balance things out. So there's dinner, if the princess ever even wakes – oh. Hello." His ramble stops short as he comes through the pass-through door to see Marie sitting up, still blinking the exhaustion out of her eyes. She smiles softly and swallows the trail mix in her mouth.
"Hi, Dean."