My Winchester

Goldie Locks

"Hey, you're okay, it's okay. We're just going to get you to the hospital," Dean tells me when I cough myself awake in the back seat of the Impala. "What?" I croak. "No, no hospitals."

Dean shares a look with Sam. "Carmen, the docs can patch you up better than I can. And you've got bones out of place and.." Dean trails off, running a hand through my hair. I'm not sure what changed his mind, but a few minutes after he looked down at me, he was telling Sam to step on it to the motel.

I wasn't going to die or anything. I mean, I was beaten up pretty bad, but it could have been a lot worse.

I drifted off again before the boys got me back in the room. I groggily opened my eyes again to hear Dean barking at Sam.

"...and more dental floss. We're gonna need a lot of gauze too, and get some pain killers," Dean was shouting out the door. A few minutes later I heard the Impala pull away.

***

"You're up again," Dean states, hurrying to the bed. She groans as he sits down, and he winces as he looks over her broken body. He thinks back to when Bobby first taught him how to patch up a wound, and begin step number one.

Make some space.

Dean takes a knife from his pocket and cuts away her bloody shirt, not even glancing at the parts of her it reveals. He then unbuttons her shorts and pull those off of her as well, along with her socks and shoes. "Dean.." she mutters weakly.

"Shh, it's okay," He tells her, standing to get a wet rag. Coming back to the bed, He can't help but think that this isn't how he wanted to see her naked again.

Step two: wipe up the blood. Look at what you're dealing with.

He wipes at her wounds gently, wincing every time she groans in pain. Dean's frightened by all the bruises. Practically her whole body was black and purple. "God, Carmen, what the hell did he even do to you?" he asks, meaning it to be a rhetorical question.

She shocks him when she replies, "A baseball bat. And some kicking, hitting." A single tear rolls down her cheek as she swallows hard. Guilt pangs in Dean's chest, and he has to look away from her face, remembering Bobby again.

Three, stitch 'em up. Biggest to smallest.

He looks over her body to find the biggest wound. He finds a slice across her thigh, too deep to just bandage. "Okay, Carmen, this is going to sting like hell fire but I need you to lay still, okay?" Dean tells her, right as Sam comes in the door bearing shopping bags. He lays the bags on the floor, quickly coming over to gently press Carmen into the bed.

Without warning, Dean drenches the wound in whiskey. His heart breaks just a little more as he listens to Carmen scream. He takes some kind of cream from a bag and slather it into the wound, watching as the blood slows down. He quickly threads a needle with floss and begins to stitch up the gash, just like Bobby taught him.

Four, repeat.

So that's what he does, working from the biggest gashes down to the smaller ones that only need bandages. Carmen passes out at one point, her screaming silenced while the whiskey pours over a huge gash in her back. He had to wrap gauze all the way around her midsection for fear she would rip the stitches open.

Carmen wakes back up as he is searching through his bags. He pulls out one of his shirts and walks over to her. Sam helps him sit her up, and he slides the shirt over her small body. She seemed more fragile now than ever.

Why didn't he just take her with me?

He glances at her out of place shoulder and back down to her possibly broken ankle. He's not good with broken stuff. He nods his head towards her foot, and Sam nods. "Hey, Carmen, can you move your foot for us?" She lets out a loud groan but moves her foot in a circle. Dean sighs with relief that it isn't broken.