Unknown.

Ch. 18 Attached.

They bandaged up Dean, and I inspected my lip in the mirror. Apparently he only had the burst of strength when he saw me, because by the time he was carried back to the house, he was passed out. I almost was too, but I didn't let myself, there was still a chance his wounds could be fatal. Sadly that whole spontaneous-werewolf-strength thing didn't heal the huge cut on my bottom lip where I chewed it till it was raw and bloody.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Dean was on my bed, his torso was all bandaged up, and my clothes were soaked in blood, not my blood, but other people's. Even now I was having vivid flashbacks of all the brutal deaths I'd witnessed, that I'd caused by summoning the pack. It made me sick. Actually when I got back to the house Diane had to hold my hair back while I threw up my guts into a trashcan.

I'd pulled up a chair, and I sat by Dean, holding his hand lightly in mine, soon I fell asleep. My head was right next to his and I was slumped over. When I woke up again, his hand was on my cheek, and he was sideways instead of on his back. He should be on his back because of his shoulder wound, so slowly I eased him onto his back, and sat up. I'd showered, but I just knew I still smelled like blood. Or at least I felt like I did. I was tainted.

I held Dean's hand, but his arm was bent. His elbow was on my knee, and I held his hand, running my fingers across his knuckles, and my lips were close to his hand. Suddenly when I looked at his face, his eyes snapped open. He looked over, his icy eyes looked like they were melting.

"Sandra." He breathed, his voice raspy.

Instead of throwing my arms around him, I just pressed my forehead against his hand, and started crying. I've never cried in front of anyone really, or cried in general. Crying was something I never let myself do, but I couldn't hold back my tears as every worry that built up in me withered away. "Sandra?" He asked, struggling to sit up. My tears fell onto his hand, but I cried silently, I was shaking, but no noise was coming out. My grip was tight despite the fact it probably hurt him since his hand was bandaged up too. "Please, look at me." He urged, and I did. He stroked my cheek and he couldn't move his hand since I held it tightly. Like I thought he might just get up and run away.

"Why... why would you do that?" I demanded, swallowing tears and closing my eyes as more tears slipped out. Dean sighed but didn't answer. "How could you do that to me? Do you even know how much you mean to me? The only way I was able to sleep the last three days was if Diane gave me sleeping drugs and even then it was only a few hours. I was so worried, every part of me thought you were dead, and that they were going to carry back your corpse to the house." I accused, my tone soft as I struggled to talk over the hard lump in my throat, and the tears that slipped down my face.
Dean's eyes were wide with surprise, and he was speechless. My lips brushed against his knuckles, and my eyes were closed. "I thought I was helping." He managed, I shook my head. "You couldn't help me that way, because when you left it was too late." I responded, my eyes flicking open, I looked at him.

"Dean, I love you."

It was time itself froze as we just sat there and stared at each other. I just closed my eyes, and held his hand close. I heard rustling, and then felt a hand under my chin. I opened my hand, and Dean gently tilted my chin so I was looking up at him. He was sitting up completely, he must be ignoring the pain. "I love you too." He said, and slowly we leaned in. But our kiss wasn't like before, it wasn't just pure lust. It was gentle, it was love. Our lips touched, and suddenly light flashed before my eyes, and I was overwhelmed with emotions that weren't just mine. Also I was intensely aware of where Dean was, and when I pulled back the world seemed brighter somehow. It was really disorienting, and I had to blink a couple times.

Dean was leaning against the head of the bed, and he smiled a little. "Guess you can't get away from me now." He said teasingly, his voice held a little pain, probably from sitting up.

"We're attached."