"Sam!" Dean threw the door of the bunker open and it slammed into the wall with a loud clang. Sam shot to his feet on the couch where he sat, dreading the sight before him.
Beck was leaning heavily on Dean, her eyes struggling to stay open. Blood covered the left side of her face, obscuring one of her eyes entirely. Her fingers were shiny with blood from her shredded knuckles and thick rings of skin rubbed raw by cuffs encircled her wrists. The left leg of her jeans was totally shredded, soaked completely though with red. The skin underneath was torn up, the flesh ribboned. Blood was practically spewing from her thigh, where an artery must've been severed. She limped at Dean's side, unable to stand up on her own, her one visible eye rolling back. Dean did his best to hold the girl up, but she sagged against him limply. Pure terror painted Dean's face as he struggled along, trying to get her to somewhere she could lie.
"Sam! Help me, I need help!" Dean cried, panicky and anxious.
"Beth, we need help!" Sam yelled as he rushed over to his brother. The girl came running from the other room, gasping when she saw what was going on. "Get the first aid kit, as many bandages as you can find, the needle and dental floss- you know what to get!" Sam helped his brother lower Beck to the couch, and she almost immediately lost consciousness.
Beth came rushing back, dropping the items she carried onto the side table before covering her mouth and nose with her hands as tears filled her eyes.
"Beth, baby, why don't you go in the other room." Sam said softly, running his hand soothingly over Beth's back. She nodded quickly before fleeing. "Dean, start cleaning the blood off her face and figure out where it's coming from and how bad it is." Sam said, passing his brother wet cloths.
Dean complied, gently rubbing the blood away until he could see her face. His fingers stroked lines over her cheekbones and brushed over her lips, wishing her awake.
Sam meanwhile was struggling to cut off her pant leg and peel the material back to reveal the wounds.
"What happened?" He asked, bewildered by what appeared to be enormous claw marks over her leg.
"Hellhound." Dean growled, pushing hair back from Beck's face.
After hours of grueling cleaning of blood and careful stitching and bandaging, Beck appeared stable, the bleeding staunched, but she was still unconscious.
Dean hovered near her head, stroking her hair and occasionally running his fingers over her cheeks. He leaned down and whispered against her forehead.
"C'mon sweetheart, wake up. Just be alright, please be alright." He muttered, his voice defeated and weak.
Dean must've fallen asleep sitting there with her, because morning light was leaking into the bunker when he opened his eyes again. Beck had stirred slightly, waking him up immediately.
"Beck? Princess, you okay?" He asked, nudging her gently.
Her eyes fluttered open and focused a little slowly on his face.
"Dean?" Her voice was rough and barely audible, and the word quickly became a groan as she shifted. Beck's fingers closed on Dean's sleeve, gripping it into her fist as she gritted her teeth and moved to sit up. With a little help from Dean, she was soon sitting up against the couch.
A line of even stitches went from the inside edge of her left eyebrow down over the bridge of her nose to just below her right eye. Her entire leg was bandaged heavily, and she winced as it shifted.
"Oh thank God." Dean breathed, running his hands over his face in pure relief. "I thought I'd lost you." He buried his face in her hair, pulling her close. "Ah sweetheart, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."
"Shut up Dean. It's never just your fault. I probably deserved it." Beck laughed weakly, her fingers curled into the back of Dean's shirt as she held him close. "I'm okay, Dean. I'm alright." She breathed against his neck as he sighed into her hair and held her closer still.
"Don't ever do that to me again." He pleaded.
"Eh, I probably will."
"Don't you dare."
