Chapter 3

When Dean felt two hands under his neck and lower back, he was startled awake again. With confusion he blinked up at two shadows who were standing over him. Dean tried to talk but all he could do was moan in discomfort. His body felt sore, stiff and cold from lying in the same position for that long. He suddenly felt another hand who was apparently still pressing on to his stomach wound. That means he was still bleeding. He grunted at that thought.

"Dean. Stop fussing around and let us help." He heard the old hunter say. And Dean knew that grumpy old voice.

For a moment Dean felt a little better. It was Bobby after all. He is going to save him. A small smile appeared on his pale face. At least he thought he was smiling at him. His face felt weird. But when he watched Bobby frown at him he started wondering why.

"It's me, you dumb ass. Stop looking at me like that."

Bobby and Sam were bending over him and they probably wanted to carry him out of the diner. But for some reason it made him very uneasy. Hell, it made him mad! Hot blood was pumping through his veins, fast. Some sounds tuned out and the only thing Dean could hear was Sam's voice.

"Bobby, he might be tripping from the demon blood."

"T'Hell…I'm," Dean blurred out with a hoarse voice. With some effort he pushed himself op from the cold ground. Four hands hold him tight when Dean's strength disappeared fast. He was so weak and sore. But also very angry at them for not believing him when he said he was not tripping.

"Easy, son. You only make it worse. Sam?"

"Yeah, I got him. On three?"

"Yup. Works for me. One. Two. Three."

Dean was trying to resist the strong hands by hitting them away from his painfull body. He felt so weird. He just hated those hands. So he fought against it! "Leme'go!" Even if he wasn't sure whether this was a dream or not, he wanted to be left alone!

"No touching!" He heard himself yell. A severe pain shoot through his whole body and he cramped down, shoulders quivering in the proces. The hands were back and didn't stop holding him, this time.

"That's it, Dean. We're going."

"Don't," Dean muttered tense. He heard himself say that, and blinked his eyes questioningly. Why did he say that?

That was when the world started to tilted. His eyes grew wide in confusion. Some of his bearings were coming back and he felt himself sitting on the cold flour. Held up by four strong hands. His whole body was like jelly. He couldn't move. And man, he was scarred! Bobby and Sam must have seen that because they were calling his name a couple of times with soothing voices.

"W-why," he heard himself ask his younger brother.

"It's okay, Dean. You're not yourself."

A hand touched his face, gently. The world went quiet again. Dean couldn't hear anything. Only his own hearth beat whom was way too fast. He felt warm. So warm. But he hated it! He let out another grunt in discomfort.

"You aren't Sam. And that isn't Bobby!"

"Say no more, boy. It's okay, "growled a rough but warm voice. It was Bobby's voice. Even if his face seemed to melt, as Dean saw it happened, into the face of Azazel. Azazel grinned and blinked at him with his pale yellow eyes.

"Come on, Sleepyhead. Now you have the only chance to shoot me, and there you are, not moving a muscle. Are you to scared?" Dean frowned. Shoot? But they had already done that. He had shot him! Or ... hasn't he?

"I already did ... you son of a bitch! " Dean cried out. He grabbed the colt, which he had in his hand the whole time, apparently, and pulled the trigger on. A bullet shot through the head of Azazel. But nothing happened. Instead, he continued to look at him. Concerned.

Dean frowned again.

"What did he say?" Sam asked suddenly. His eyes looking suspiciously at Dean's emtpy hands as if he was pointing a gun on them. And he was glad he didn't had a real one.

TBC

AN: This was a short one. But there will be more in the morning:)

X

josie