Caucasian male. Late twenties. Severely injured. No ID in his wallet.
"Oh, Dean," She sat beside his bed, staring with empty eyes into that face, waiting for his eyes to open and some snide remark to settle in the space he seemed to fill effortlessly. "Was it really worth it, little brother? Throwing yourself in the crossfire?"
Sniffing back tears, Jamie tugged the thin hospital blanket closer under his chin, brushing back his hair just like she used to when he was younger. Her head hurt from holding back tears and from refusing to break even though her splintered bones pierced her skin. "You're gonna be okay, Dee, you always are."
He would, but would she?
He always looked fresh and brand new but he had an old soul. He had been through too much, and he always fell too hard. He always got up too fast and he made her believe that he's all fine but that's not always true. He was so brave and so strong while he has fears, nightmares and his own Hell on Earth. He loved everyone too hard. He wouldn't even have to talk to them to love them. Because that's just the person Dean was.
She would hold back. She'd hold back her love and her sympathy and her words and she'd hold back everything when he was so willing to give it all.
That's why she wasn't the one on the respirator.
But goddamn did she wish she was instead of him.
"You can't leave me alone, Dean. Don't you dare stop fighting. You're the strong one. Don't leave me alone. Please." Jamie covered her red eyes with her hand, struggling to breath through her congested nose while her throat ached against the harsh sobs. "Dad's gone. Sam's god-knows where. You're all I got, brother." A sudden smile pulled at the corners of her lips. "Who's going to drive the Impala if you're not around?"
There was a knock on the door and she immediately sat up, wiping the tears off her face before turning to see a tall man enter the room. He awkwardly came to stand beside the bed, staring down at Dean with distress filling his blue eyes.
"Can I help you?" Jamie fought to find her countenance.
"This is Dean Winchester."
"Uh, no," was her calm reply. "wrong room."
The man focused his eyes on her. "And you're his sister."
"Yeah,"
He thoughtfully turned his concentration back to Dean, tilting his head to the side. "He has a long way to go. And so do you."
As the man turned to leave, Jamie spoke up, twisting in her chair to watch him approach the door. "If he gets hurt, I will kill you."
"You Winchester's are bound with cause. It's what makes you get up in the morning. It's what makes the gun look not as pretty as you thought it would." And with those parting words, the man in the dirty overcoat disappeared into the hall.
She turned back to her brother, anger and confusion swelling in her chest. "You better come back, Dean Winchester...or I'll kill you."
And he did.
Inspired by petite-madame's artwork which is the cover image.