Venom

040

Dean had been out for an hour or so. Helen had used that time to catch up on what was going on with the whole Isaac situation, ignoring Derek's threatening texts and e-mails. He'd called her a few times, but she had never picked up.

There was something - a feeling - in her gut that made her feel uneasy. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something was wrong.
She called Savannah, but everything was fine. She texted Dean, and he'd answered with a quick, "All good."
So, what was it?

It definitely wasn't her period, since she'd gotten it last week. She was lucky her cycle didn't last more than four days and didn't cause her annoying cramps. Thank God for that.

Uncomfortable with the nauseous feeling in her stomach, she sat at the table and turned on one of Dean's laptops. She put on an episode of Modern Family and ate some grapes while cackling like an idiot at the stupidest jokes.

After an episode, she opened another window, ready to type in something, but another thing caught her attention.
She widened her eyes and her mouth dropped open with a gasp at the news she saw.
There. That's what the feeling was about.
Shit.

Panting, her heart beating so fast she thought she could die, she grabbed her phone and dialed Dean's number. She chewed on the skin around her nails, striding around the room. "Come on, come on, pick up," she kept repeating under her breath. She could faint.

"Hello?" he answered, and the sigh of relief she let out was so loud he heard it through the phone. Dean frowned. "Everything okay?"

"Oh, thank God. Where are you?" she quickly asked, worried. She was totally going to pass out.

Dean's frown deepened. "I'm in my car, driving home. You're on speaker, don't worry," he said, preceding her incoming comment on safe driving.

Helen was stunned. "How can you be so calm, Dean?" she questioned, easing a breath and finally sitting down on the couch, the cushions hissing as they sank under her weight.

Is she okay? he thought to himself, pouting his lips. He cleared his throat, trying to word out in a kind way his next words. "Helen, are you drunk? Or high? What's going on with you?" He heard some sounds on the other line as she probably got up and started walking around the house. Is she running a marathon or something?

"What do you mean, what's going on with me?" she rudely asked. "How-" She stopped for a moment. "Oh, God. You haven't heard, have you?" she whispered.

Dean shook his head. "Heard what? Helen, what the hell is going on," he demanded, not bothering to sound kind anymore.

"Just-" She sighed. "Just come in from the back of the building, okay? I'll tell you everything when you get here, but be quick, please," she told him, biting down on her lip.

"Explain now," he ordered.

"No. Wouldn't want to cause an incident. Please, just get your ass here as fast as you can, okay? It's important," she said. "Gotta go."

"Helen-" She hung up. Damn it. He slammed his palm against the steering wheel and pressed on the gas, the car engine roaring.

---

Less than twenty minutes later, he was inside the house, striding in so fast he almost missed Helen's body on the couch.

He walked up to her and she immediately got up when she noticed him. "Well?" he impatiently asked.

Helen simply let out a sigh and grabbed his laptop. "I'm sorry," she said, giving him the device.

Dean took it and started reading the news article.