CHAPTER TWENTY

Zak

After sharing the info Daniel had given me with the group, it was unanimously decided that Brian and I would not be returning to Hell's Gate tonight, or for the next few nights. So, now I was sitting in the armchair at Aaron's house aimlessly scrolling through my phone while Aaron, Ezra and Brian played a video game. Tori had volunteered to go stay with Saber, as Ryker didn't eat and Saber was just as likely to set the kitchen on fire as to not. And while the sight of a Fae God playing video games (and playing them well) was amusing, the fact that the Winchesters had been gone almost two hours was starting to worry me. They should be back by now…

Just as I was about to call Sam, I heard the telltale sound of a car door slam and heavy boots stomping onto the porch.

"Stop whining Dean. You're just upset 'cause you squealed like a little girl when that thing jumped you."

"It had three inch teeth, Sammy!" he shouted and pushed the screen door open, "And it wasn't a 'squeal'. It was a manly yelp." He said indignantly.

I stood up just as they walked into the room, and… Fuck.

"Shit, what the hell happened to you guys?" Aaron asked, doing a wide eyed double take from his game. Ezra and Brian were both wearing the same shocked expression, and for good reason.

Dean had a thin, shallow cut running diagonally from the top of his forehead and stopping just above his left temple. Most noticeably though, were the six razor like cuts, three on each pec, bleeding through his gray t-shirt. Fortunately, they didn't look too deep. Sam looked like he had fared only slightly better, no scratches, but there was quite a bit of blood soaking through the right shoulder of his tan, canvas jacket.

"Your nasty little attack Fae happened." Dean answered and tossed the duffel bag unceremoniously onto the table. "Thanks for the heads up on that one by the way." He nodded to me, sounding more annoyed than pissed.

"Valryn?" I scowled, confused. "He was still there?"

"Yeah," Dean breathed, eyebrows lifting sarcastically, "And he was givin' off some serious Gollum vibes."

An infinitesimal pang of guilt ran through me, that feeling didn't last long, he was a nasty shit.

"You got anything for this?" he gestured to his bloody, sliced torso, and looked at the group, "Or am I usin' whiskey and t-shirts?"

Ezra snickered, looked at Dean and Sam, who had taken off the bloody canvas jacket and flannel button down which left him in a white t-shirt with the right shoulder completely soaked in blood.

"Shit." Sam sighed, unphased by the blood, and shook his head as he examined his shoulder. "I'm gonna need stitches."

I opened the blue duffel and took out one of the smaller leather bound grimoires.

"By the way dude, that's a helluva lot of curse boxes and weird ass shit you got in there." Dean grunted as he plopped down on the floor of the tiled entryway and took the rubbing alcohol and bandages Ezra handed him.

"Yeah," Sam laughed breathily, "plus a kill box and a human eating Fae?" he winced, as he lifted his shirt sleeve up for Aaron to stitch, "Your master or whatever, must've been a special kind of psychopath."

"Hmmph, that he was…" I said absently and put the grimoire back in the bag. I looked up and for a fraction of a second, saw Sam and Dean eyeing each other.

Shit. I hadn't thought about my answer. I didn't talk about my past, and no one asked about it either. But while most people would have just brushed my answer off as sarcasm; I knew from the conversation I'd overheard last night that Dean, in particular, was more than a little concerned about my 'mental health'.

As I took a step closer to take a look at Aaron's shit stitching, Dean looked up at me. "Meh," he shrugged and smiled, "you turned out all right. Gaha…" He winced as Ezra slapped a bandage on him.

Brian had taken an interest in Aaron's handiwork as well, and was standing over Sam, grimacing, "You know, I could just…"

"No!" Dean snapped, "You keep it in your pants! Don't need your psycho-bitch finding us before we're ready." He muttered to his chest as he slapped on the last bandage and stood up to look at Aaron's work, then at his hand that I'd stitched last night. "Dude, you sew worse than Sammy does!" He scowled at Aaron's horrible job, then looked at me, "You, you get over here and fix… this." He

made a circle gesture in Aaron's direction, "Don't need to be givin' your bf any more scars." He muttered under his breath as he passed me on his way to the kitchen.

"I'm not that bad at this…" Aaron mumbled indignantly as I put on surgical gloves and kicked him out of the way.

"Yeah, you really are." Then knelt in front of Sam and took the needle from him. I guess that's really not a bad thing though.

"Oi, Aaron!" Dean called from the kitchen.

"What?"

"We drawin' straws for beds tonight or what?" I didn't look behind me, but it sounded like he had a mouthful of food.

"Hey!" Sam's head snapped up, "Those dumplings are mine!"

"Name's not written on it."

"Yeah, it is! You have tacos dude!"

I clipped the thread and looked over my shoulder to see Dean, standing in the middle of the living room, holding an open 'to-go' box, that had 'Sam's. DO NOT touch.' Written on it in black marker.

"Oh, huh…" He looked at the lid casually, and shoved the last dumpling into his mouth; at which point Sam made an annoyed grumble, gathered up the garbage and headed to the kitchen, purposely walking into Dean on the way.

Dean snickered, as he watched Sam stomp off, "Sooo, beds?"