Abducted: Part Three (SPN | Dean x Reader )

Chapter 29: It Was Just A Scratch

August 2015

Even though there were extra people in the room and you had the added nuisance of wearing your clothes, you still managed to get comfortable next to Dean. He lay on his back with you snuggled between him and the wall side of your designated bed.

As well as giving you an angel blade to keep near you, he held his favoured demon knife in the hand that wasn't resting on you, while his gun was at the ready under his pillow. He had even made a point of checking the magazine, and cocking it on and off in front of Len and the others.

If it had bothered Len, he didn't show it. The younger man now sat happily with Cass in the front of the room, watching the police scanners and chewing the angel's ear off about Lizzie Borden.

Dean had to grumble a few times for them to keep it down, but he soon dozed off, filling the room with his heavy breathing and occasional snorts.

You slept, but it was restless. Memories of Charles plagued your mind the second you closed your eyes, but it was the one of his illusioned self on one Sydney train platform that was interrupted by the sudden movement below your head.

"Dean!" a deep voice called out your boyfriend's name from somewhere far away.

"Cass!" Dean shouted next to you.

The bedcover flew off and your eyes flew open as the mattress shifted below. Dean had jumped up and was already on the move with a dishevelled Sam, hot on his heels.

"Sammy, get the cuffs from the trunk," Dean barked from further away.

You sat up, confused to see Sam race out the door and three bodies moving by it. A fight had broken out and Dean was swinging punches at a man with greasy-blonde hair.

Cass was part of the struggle too, but Len was missing.

Quick as a flash, you grabbed the angel blade and your gun from under the pillow you hadn't used and touched your bare feet to the floor. Then you scanned the room for Len, but you couldn't see him.

"Len?" you called out.

But there was no response.

Shit.

Where the fuck was he?

It wasn't like there were any places he could hide. The room was the same size as any other you'd stayed in with the guys. If anything, it was larger, with room dividers, two beds, an armchair, the table, and a vast floor space between it all.

Your eyes flicked over the curtains, as if expecting to find the burly man cowering behind them, but no, there was no sign of him.

It wasn't until you stepped forward that you saw it. The base of the divider had concealed a large pool of crimson liquid. Footprints had trodden through it and made a glistening trail of smaller drops, laying out a path towards the bathroom.

Fuck. There was a lot.

You first thought to glance back at Dean, who had been thrown against the wall, but you couldn't see any red staining on his clothes, and you realised he was okay. Winded, maybe, but at least the blood wasn't his.