Pulled In..... To Supernatural

Burnt Out, Screwed up

I heard a faint rattling from the back of the car, turning to Dean. "Uhhhh, Dean, I think Baby might have a problem...." I said anxiously.

"Its fine, its just the car." Dean replied calmly, keeping his eyes on the road. I stretched around in the seat to look out the back windshield. The trunk had partially come open, the weapons and tools falling onto the road, causing the ratling.

"Uhm, Dean?" I tried cautiously. He checked his rear-view mirror, harshly slamming on the brakes moments later. Sam and I both braced for impact, throwing our hands in front of us. We all panted heavily as the car lurched to a stop, and I turned to let my eyes tell Dean how much of an idiot he really was. When I did, my eyes caught a sight I definitely was not expecting. The little girl glared evilly at me from the dusty road behind the car.

"What are you doing?" Sam's voice snapped me out of my trance. I glanced at his confused face,  my eyes then flying back to the mirror. In a broken flicker, she dissapeared.

"She's out there," I said with wide eyes, both of them just staring at me. "It's out there," I insisted, reaching to the door handle. Dean grabbed my wrist, halting my motion.

"We can handle this," He assured, stepping confidently out of the car, slamming the door. Sam followed casually, as if this was a daily occurance. I had to remind myself that it was. After a few minutes of tense silence and occasional shouts, I heard a muffled scream of agony and the pounding of feet on the dirt road. Panicked thoughts ran through my head as I threw open the car door and stumbled out.

"Christ!" I exclaimed when the dust settled. In front of me was a horrifying sight, Dean limping towards me, one of his long, thick hunting knives sticking into his his stomach, dark blood staining his navy t-shirt black. His eyes were squinched tights, his mouth contorted into a grimace of pain. I hurried to his side and wrapped a firm arm around his waist, letting him lean on me. Man this guy is heavy, I thought stupidly as I brought him over to lean against the car. "So much for having it handled," I muttered, watching as a cloud of dust came towards us. It broke, and then there was Sam, being chased by a machete. As in, a floating machete. Sam skidded to halt next to Dean, the huge knife is hurtling toward all of us now. Thinking fast, I scooped up a fist-sized rock, chucking it at the machete. The rock took the machete ten feet in the other direction.

"Get Dean to a hospital. Now. I'll handle the ghost and the stuff. Go. I'm trusting you. The important thing is that he lives," Sam cracked his knuckles, trudging away with a worried expression. I helped Dean to the car, and as soon as he was in the passenger seat I realized just how much blood he had really lost, his face is pale, his hands cold.

I made my way around to the driver's seat sliding in gently, immediately twisting the key in the igniton. There was no time for adjusting the seat, soI put the car into gear and pushed down hard on the accelerator. The car shot forward, and I slowed a little to try and tell Dean his car wasn't safest in my hands. "Dean-"

"Just drive," He hissed through his teeth, eyes closed. I knew he was trying hard not to lose conciousness, so I drove way above the speed limit, even once we got onto the regular road. Man, this was going to be hard to explain. Not gonna lie, I felt like a badass in this car, speeding down the road, but felt some anger at myself for even thinking of that at a time like this. I yanked the car into a parking space next to an entrance at The Community Hospital of Long Beach. I spotted someone walking up to the sliding doors.

I tossed the door open, my voice shaky as I called out, "Get paramedics fast! Please!" The desperation in my tone shocked the elderly lady, jumping a little as she hurried into the building.  I was breathing much too heavily, and was certain he'd lost too much blood to live. I really started to panic when his grip on the side of the door slackend, his head dropping to rest limply on his shoulder. In my peripheral vision, I saw a team of around six doctors and a stretcher heading our way. I managed to calm myself just enough to say one thing to Dean, despite the fact that he couldn't hear me. "I'll be there." 

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'd been sitting impatiently in the hospital's waiting room for about an hour when Sam finally walked in. He appeared exasperated as he sat down next to me.  A doctor with a clipboard strode over to us. "Uh, you're  with Officer Washington, correct?" I looked over at Sam.

"Yes, doctor. I'm his cousin, Sam Winchester, and this is his... Uh," Sam looked over at me, his expression telling me to figure something out.

"Wife. I'm his wife, Sandy... Washington," I lied hesitantly. "Is he going to live?"

"Yes. It's kind of incredible, infact. We've removed the knife and managed to patch him up. Luckily, there was only slight fracturing to a rib and a small hole punctured him the outer lining of his stomach. One lucky fellow." The doctor informed us.

"Can we see him?" Sam asked, peering down the long hallway behind the doctor.

"Sure thing, but he'll be out for a while, and when he does come back into full conciousness, don't expect him to be serious. We gave him quite the dose of anesthesia." 

"How long before he's back up and kickin'?" I questioned, following Sam's gaze.

"Well, we'll want to keep him for at least seventy-two hours to make sure there isn't an outbreak of infection, but after that, healing will take up to eight weeks,"  The doctor began leading us down a long hallway, filled with doors. I made the mistake of looking into the window of one. I gagged a little as I caught a glimpse of a vaginal delivery. The doctor motioned for us to go into a room first. I sighed when I saw Dean, laying in the sterile white hospital bed, the thin sheet folded just under his armpits. Even with a pale, unshaven face, and his mint green hospital gown, he still looked like a god. A slightly damaged god.... but a god nonetheless. I stand there for a minute, taking in the situation. Damn, eight weeks... Dean will not be okay with this.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's some paperwork that needs to be done," A pretty, young nurse held a small stack of papers in her left hand. I elbowed Sam, and he sighed following the nurse out of the room. I walked tentatively over to the side of Dean's bed, and very carefully picked up his hand. I flipped it palm up in mine and just ran my thumbs over all of the scars there. He had rough, strong hands. Trustworthy hands. I lied his hand back by his side gently. I let my fingers up to dance along his cheekbone, and dragged my fingertips over his short stubble. I slid the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip, not caring if he woke up (which I was fairly certain wouldn't happen). I leaned in close to his face, and gingerly pressed my lips to his. His are soft and full, and they taste like fast-food grease and beer, and I can sense a faint tinge of toothpaste in the mix. They taste- like Dean. Just like you'd imagine, just with less of the whiskey taste I'd thought would be there. I pulled away, confused at his expression until realized that his face had scrunched up when I stopped. I smoothed the slight wrinkles on his forehead with the pad of my pointer finger. I heard slightly rushed footsteps drawing closer to the room. I lifted up Dean's hand and yanked a chair over with my foot. I laughed when I saw the younger Winchester's appearance. Sam's jacket was crooked, his face was red, and his hair was slightly disgruntled. 

"Ooooh, Sammy getting it on with a nurse? While she's on duty? Naughty!" I grinned, wiggling my eyebrows up and down comically. 

"You're almost as bad as Dean," Sam groaned. He sighed heavily, his face returning to it's normal color. "She was all over me."

"Should'a just given her your all. 'Bout time you got laid," I hit his stomach with the back of my hand jokingly.