I hold one hand over my shoulder. Dean was right; I'm bleeding pretty bad, but it won't be a problem when Cas and his powers get back. I reach my other hand down and entwine my fingers in Cameron's. It's dark, and Dean is ahead of us. Can't see our hands.
We weave our way around the halls where Cameron painted the sigils. I softly explain to her that if we get too close while Cas is using them it could kill us. That should relax her.
Dean gets us into the lounge, hands Cameron a towel to wash the paint off her hands and face, and comes to me to pull the shirt away from my shoulder.
Cameron wipes at her blouse as she walks over to get a better look.
"Should we wrap that until Cas gets back?" she suggests.
Dean flaps a hand at her dismissively. "I've got it."
She steps closer."You sure? I'm pretty good with these sort of wounds."
"Yeah, I'm sure." Dean doesn't even look at her this time.
The blood loss is messing with my head, but I grin as I see the fiery Cameron-beast rising to the surface, stubborn and unwilling to back down, refusing to take no for an answer.
"And it takes more delicate hands, which I don't think you have." she bites.
Dean slowly turns to her, studying her face. His boisterous smirk flashes out, melting his scowl, and he hands her the towel in his hands.
"You know, for a girl, you're not great at sending off signals about taking care of your man. Oh," he says at the flush these words bring to her cheeks. "Sorry. Not your man. Just a random guy who dragged you into this mess." He puts up his hands and backs away, smiling mischievously.
"Have at it, m'lady."
She coughs awkwardly and bends over me, her eyes narrowing into slits as she wipes at the blood with the towel.
I wince as the rough fibers grating against the wounds.
As the pain increases, I lock my fingers around Cameron's arm, using it to anchor myself to reality and away from the pain. She pauses, realizing that I'm in pain, and when I relax a little, she starts again, roughly scraping at the wound as the blood keeps leaking out.
I lick my dry lips to speak and taste salt, dust and blood.
Releasing my grip on her arm, I move my hands down to hers, pulling her and the towel away from my shoulder. She's nervous; she's smart enough to know better than this.
"Cam." I say gently. "If you wipe, it's just going to keep opening. Apply pressure, like this." I press her hands and the towel firmly against my shoulder, gritting my teeth a little. "It'll stop bleeding faster this way."
She nods shakily, pressing almost too hard now.
I hold my hands steadily over hers, feeling her tremble slightly.
Everything must be hitting her; what's happened, what's she's just seen. I don't know much about her yet, but I do know that no matter what she's experienced in her life has come anywhere close to preparing her for what she's just seen.
She slowly raises her eyes from my shoulder, making eye contact. I'm about to open my mouth when Cas crashes into the room, bleeding and panting.