Slipping Through My Fingers

Warnings: Violence/gore, swearing, anger, angsty

Hana's POV

"It's okay. You're okay. Just-ah, fuck-just breathe," I ground out through clenched teeth.
Yeah, right. I'm totally okay. Just peachy, I mentally snapped back to myself as more blood gushed past my fingertips. Letting out a strangled sound, I put a hand to the wall and sunk to my knees.
Damn rugaru. Dean told me I shouldn't go after it alone. Instead of taking sound advice, I had stupidly gone after the thing myself, pride hurt but determined to prove Dean wrong.
Fat lot of good that did.
"C'mon, get up," I grunted to myself, pushing myself to my feet with the support of the wall. Okay, step one accomplished. I'm golden right now.
I should probably get back to my car. Well, my stolen car. Not that it mattered. The chances of me making it to the motel room without passing out from the pain were so small that I was considering not even trying.
But I knew that Dean would come into the afterlife and drag my ass back here solely to lecture me non-stop if I even thought about leaving him. So, I forced my legs to carry me to the driver's side door.
I immediately slumped against the sturdy car, breathing coming out in painful panting and seeming to scrape along the sensitive walls of my lungs.
After a moment of regaining my composure, I grabbed the door handle and yanked. Adrenaline sinking, I barely kept myself from flying backwards into the mud. "For fuck's sake, if you're gonna kill me, do it already!" I shouted at the sky, anger needing to be directed at somebody. Of course, just like always, there was no reply.
Huffing, I felt my legs give out and angled myself so that I fell into the driver's seat. A weak groan left my lips as the sudden action jolted my wound and a gush of blood soaked the front of my jeans.
As my vision swam, a dreadful realization came to me. I'm never gonna make it all the way to the motel. It's too far, and I'm bleeding out way too fast.
Dean's voice echoed in my head, and even though I knew I was probably just hallucinating, it still gave me hope. "C'mon, sweetheart. You can do it."
Setting my jaw, I pulled the door closed and jammed the keys into the ignition. "You're gonna drive your ass back to the motel and-shit, ah-you're gonna tell Dean that you love him and you're gonna-g-gonna get all fixed up. Dean and Sammy will fix you up. You've had worse."
I was so out of it that I barely even recognized that it was me talking. The deep gash in my side dulled to a barely-there ache.
I vaguely remembered seeing a sign that directed me to a hospital. And then headlights coming straight for me, and I swerved wildly, spinning the car.
And then there was darkness. Cold and pressing and unwelcoming.

I gasped into consciousness. I was barely aware that I was even awake when a voice said softly, "Hiya, sweetheart."
And, naturally, I punched the unknown man in the nose. Rapid blinking seemed the only cure for the sudden panic I had undergone. The image of Dean, holding his nose gingerly and then pulling his hand away from his face to check it for blood, slowly came into focus.
Completely dumbfounded for what to say, I blurted, "Hey, Dean."
His head snapped up and a small smirk fell on his lips, looking a bit forced. "You just punched me in the face and all you say is, 'Hey'?"
Smiling at his playfulness, I ran a hand through his hair. "You're not getting anything else from me. Now, where's the-son of a bitch!" I had attempted to get up and discovered my entire midsection to be bandaged and in serious pain.
Dean's hands were everywhere, slowly helping me to lay back against the pillows. "Woah, take it easy, princess. You're gonna reopen your wound. Had a pretty nasty gash." As he gently looked me over, everything rushed back to me.
Confused about the flashes of the previous night in my head, I murmured, "What happened?"
Dean's emerald eyes locked on mine, and I was suddenly concerned for the darker than normal circles under his eyes. "Why don't you tell me? You were supposed to wait for backup!" He was getting worked up, now, like he's been bottling it up for a long time. "And then he hurt you, and you still tried to get behind the wheel. What the hell were you thinking? You should've just waited!"
I closed my eyes against his lecturing. Letting my mind travel to give him an acceptable answer, I spouted out the first thing that came to mind. "There was a hospital nearby and there was a lot of blood and I didn't think that I would make it until you and Sam got there!"
Dean paused in his pacing before sighing and dropping his head to his chest. "You scared the hell outta me, darling. You wrecked that car. Bad. I thought you were…" he trailed off, and he really didn't have to finish his sentence. He thought I was dead.
I flashed a comforting grin up at him, then reached out to grab his hand. He looked up from the floor, our eyes locking. "You really think you're gonna get rid of me that easy?" I teased.
Before I could even register what was happening, Dean was knelt beside the bed, my face in his rough hands and tears trickling down his cheeks. "Yeah, I do. And that's what terrifies me," he choked out.
Shocked at his confession, I gently pulled him into the bed beside me and stroked his hair as he sobbed into my collarbone. "I love you too much to leave you, Dean."