IT'S BACK!

Sorry this was on hiatus so long, hopefully it won't happen again. I had some serious writer's block, and I also wanted to focus on my other story.

I don't plan on this fic being very long, just a few chapters. But I hope you guys enjoy!

Y/N = Your Name

It's around 6:45 that evening when you leave to go meet Dean. You're wearing your favorite dress and a pair of combat boots, wanting to look good while keeping it simple.

The sun is low in the sky as you lock your front door behind you and head off down the sidewalk. Part of you is stupidly excited, because you get to go hang out with a super attractive guy who also turns out to be pretty nice as well—and then the other part of you has to keep reminding yourself that this isn't a damn date, get your hormon-y self under control.

After about ten minutes of walking, the blue neon BABY BIRD'S sign comes into full view. It's a small little building, but it's a nice place, and everyone speaks very highly of it. It's not very busy at the moment—only a few cars and a motorcycle are parked outside—but the music is thumping and you can hear people talking and laughing inside. You smile and pick up your pace a little, reaching for the door.

But suddenly, a strong arm grabs you around the middle, a hand clamping over your mouth to stop your scream. You kick and claw as you're dragged off into the shadows, the person tossing you down a dark alley beside the bar. You leap to your feet and turn to run, only to find two men standing behind you. Panicking, you whirl around, but the first man who grabbed you was there, blocking your path. All three of them have smirks on their face that you don't like at all. And they're fucking huge.

"What do you want?" You ask in a shaky voice. You can feel your body trembling in fear. Are they going to rob me? Rape me? Both?

The first man looks pointedly at your purse, which was still clutched tightly in your hand.

"You want money?" You ask. "Fine, take it!" You toss your purse him, not caring about your money at all. You just want them to leave you alone.

He catches it and rips it open. Rifling through your things, he pulls everything out and throws it on the ground until he finds your wallet. He opens it and pulls all your cash out, but then raises his eyes to glare at you. "Where's the credit card?"

"I-I don't have one." You'd left it at home.

He narrows his eyes at you.

"I swear!" You plead, your voice cracking.

He glares at you a moment longer before dropping the wallet and your purse, stuffing your cash into his pocket. For a moment, you think he's done terrorizing you.

But then he nods to the two men behind you, and they each grab your arms. Your start twisting and kicking for all you're worth, and you start to scream, too. But the first man lunges forward and delivers a punch to your gut, knocking the air clean out of you.

Oh, FUCK that hurts!

He doesn't stop there, however. He keeps punching you, in the stomach, in the chest, and in the face. By now your vision has narrowed and everything is just a haze of pain. The other two throw you to the ground, and more blows rain down on you, this time from their feet as they kick you everywhere they can reach.

And all you can do is curl into a tight ball and wait for it to end.

Dean sits alone at a table near the door, drumming his fingers on the table. He checks his watch for the fifth time. You were over thirty minutes late.

Where is she? Dean wonders to himself. Y/N wouldn't stand me up, would she?

He chews his lip as he fingers the edge of the table. After another fifteen minutes, Dean lets out a frustrated sigh and decides he's done waiting.

He walks out into the night and blows out a breath in disappointment. Guess she's not coming. He starts to head across the parking lot towards his car, feeling hurt and a little angry.

A groan sounds from the alley nearby, and Dean freezes. Turning his head, he peers down the dark alley. He can't really see anything, so he cautiously makes his way into the shadows.

You don't know how much time has passed, but you realize that, finally, the relentless beating has stopped. You remain on the ground, paralyzed in agony, tears pouring from your eyes.

You hear footsteps nearby, and you try to call out for help. But your voice catches in your throat and all that escapes you is a moan of pain.

The footsteps come closer. "Hello?" A voice calls.

"Uh," you whimper.

Dean finally makes out a figure—a figure that's lying motionless on the ground. His eyes widen and he runs towards it, dropping to his knees beside the person.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, hey," a familiar voice soothes. "What happened, are you alright? What's your name?"

You cough. "D-Dean?"

Dean sucks in a sharp breath, his stomach dropping. "Y/N?"

His eyes finally adjust to the dark, and he gasps in horror when he sees your bloodied and swollen face. "Oh, god, Y/N—what the hell happened?"

But you can't even answer him. You just sob in pain and turn your face away, not wanting him to see how awful you must look.

Dean curses. He swears to himself that, when he finds out whoever did this to you, he would make them fucking pay.

He runs his hand gently through your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he tries to soothe you. "I'm gonna get you to a hospital."

You can feel strong arms envelope you as he lifts you off the ground as gently as he can. He holds you close as he carries you to his car, and you bury your face in his chest as you continue to cry quietly.

"I'm gonna lay you down in the backseat, okay?" He says softly in your ear. You sniffle and nod. He tries to lay you down gently, but every miniscule movement causes you intense pain. You whimper and cling to him, more tears escaping your eyes.

Dean winces at every pained sound you make. He finally manages to get you down on the seat, easing your clutching hands off his arms. He immediately yanks off his jacket and covers you with it. Closing the backdoor, he jumps behind the wheel and breaks every single speed limit on the way to the hospital.

When you wake, it's to the smell of bleach and to the sound of a steady beeping. The pain has dulled, but you're still aching.

You crack your eyes open, temporarily blinded by the bright light. You blink a few times and your eyes finally adjust.

"Y/N?"

Slowly, you turn your head towards the voice.

Dean is seated next to your bed, holding your hand, eyes filled with worry. When he sees you looking at him, he smiles in relief. "Hey, how do you feel?"

It takes you a moment to summon the energy to speak. "Hurts," you croak.

You can see the pain in Dean's eyes at your answer. "Okay, just hold on for over second, I'll call a nurse and they'll give you something." He hits the call button, and then gently strokes your hair while you wait.

You cough. "Wha' . . . 'appened?"

Dean bites his lip. "I was hoping you could tell me that. I found you in the alley beside the bar, barely conscious and beat to hell."

You close your eyes as you try to think back to what happened. "It . . . these . . . three men . . ."

Dean feels a flare of rage. "Three men? Did they do this to you?"

You nod. "Took . . . my money . . . beat me . . ." There's a hard lump in your throat and you begin to cry again.

"Hey, hey," Dean murmurs, wiping your tears away with his thumb. "I'm not gonna let them hurt you again, okay? I promise."

It's then that a nurse comes in, and she and Dean have a quick conversation.

"She's still really out of it and in a lot of pain . . . I don't think she's up for a chat with the cops just yet . . . All she said was that three men robbed and beat her . . . Please, just give her something for the pain . . ."

Suddenly you can feel warmth flooding through you, and the pain instantly fades away. You let out a grateful sigh as you begin drifting on the edge of sleep.

As the nurse leaves, Dean sits back down next to you and continues stroking your hair back. He's filled with a mix of sorrow and rage as he takes in your injuries.

Your entire body is littered with cuts and colorful bruises. You have three broken ribs, a broken left wrist and arm, a bruised spleen, a black eye, a broken nose, a swollen lip, and even a hematoma on your right breast.

Dean seethes, and realizes that he's not only angry at the culprits, but at himself as well. Since you were at the bar, it meant that you must've been jumped as soon as you arrived, which was probably around seven. Dean had waited for you for forty-five minutes. Which meant that you had been lying alone outside, in the cold and the dark, for nearly an hour.

Dean feels sick. He squeezes your hand. "I'm so sorry I left you out there for so long," he whispers.

But you were already asleep.

TBC.

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