The Runaway | Supernatural | ✓

Chapter V - Don't Try Suicide [Part II]

Dean entered the room as Sam had wanted to follow a lead he’d discovered alone. “Kid, I’m back. Ready for some more Back to the Future?” Dean asked, clapping his hands together. He licked his lips with excitement that disappeared when she wasn’t there. “Kid?” He asked, looking around.

He heard weeping and frantically ran through the room. He couldn’t see her anywhere he looked, “Kid?!” He shouted, and traced the crying to the bathroom. He tried the door, it was locked. He slammed his shoulder into the door, the wood not caving. Dean dropped to the ground, checking for shadows under the door, none appeared and he scrambled to his feet. He backed away a couple steps and lifted his foot. He slammed the heel of his foot into the doorknob, the door flew open, slamming into the wall.

Dean saw the creature before he saw Leila. His eyes widened as he realized it was the same one that had disappeared on him when he was washing his face. He pulled the gun out from the back of his pants, shooting it with the rock salt bullet after cocking it. The creature disappeared with a nasty hiss, the black smoke going away after a second or two.

“Kid?” Dean breathed, seeing the faintest of line of blonde hair poking out from the bathtub. He rushed over, looking over the bathtub that was stained crimson with Leila’s blood.

“Oh god…” Dean whispered, taking the bloody razor out of her hands and throwing it to the side.

“Dean!” Leila shouted, “No!” She said, collapsing in a heap of sobs. She crawled out of the bathtub, going towards the blade. Her pale figure nearly crumpled to the ground, in spite of all the blood she’d lost.

Dean grabbed her carefully and sat on the ground, pulling her on top of him. She struggled against him but he held on, nothing to shield his ears from Leila’s cussing and screaming. “Don’t do this.” Dean said, holding her close.

“I need to,” Leila croaked, stopping her struggling. She’d been stopped again from ending the life she never wanted. Her head fell into her hands, her palms pressing into her eye lids. Tears flowed no matter how much she didn’t want them to. “I want to be dead.” She whispered.

“Why?” Dean asked, remembering Sam telling him to talk to her.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Leila admitted, sobbing into Dean’s chest.

“You’re sixteen, sweetheart,” Dean panted. It was as if in the heat of the moment, while stopping her, he’d stopped breathing. “It gets better.” Even if Dean didn’t truly believe that, he could at least convince her it did.

“That’s bull,” Leila sobbed, “Nothing gets better.”

“Come on,” Dean said, trying to lighten the mood, “Just wait until you have sex for the first time. Mmm, trust me, you’ll want to stay.”

“I don’t want that, Dean,” Leila said, sniffling, “I want to be dead, and I should be already.”

“Yeah, speaking of that, let’s get you patched up,” Dean said, not waiting for her answer before standing up with her in his arms. He carried her shaking figure to the bed she’d slept on the night before. “Stay there, and stay out of the bathroom.” He said, shaking a finger at her like a mother.