The Hunt.

Ch. 39 Puppy.

Dean's P.O.V.

I walked down the street for a few hours, just forward. Angry with myself. Trying to ignore the fact I could feel Sandra gradually getting more drunk.

After a while of walking, I froze completely. Sandra needed me. I did her wrong, definitely. But she couldn't be alone getting drunk because she was sad. Like Sandra reminds me, I am a little shit sometimes, but she still loves me. And she's alone. Getting wasted. Turning around, I started running back. Back to the apartment, back to Sandra. I don't care if she throws me right back out, I have to be there. I just have to.

Opening the door, I was surprised when she wasn't in the living room. But something reeked of alcohol. Slowly walking in the our room, I opened the door. She on the bed side, an empty whiskey bottle by her feet, and another empty one in in her fingers. But slowly her grip loosened, and it fell to the ground. She was relapsing back to her old days. "Sandra," I breathed. She just let out a sigh. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I drank it all." She continued. She leaned into her hands, body shaking with silent tears. "Oh kitten," I said in sympathy, walking towards her. "I'm sorry," I said, kneeling in front of her. Gently, I moved her hands from her face. Her mascara was smeared and she stared back at me with bloodshot eyes.

Tears swelled up in her vision when she saw me, and self-loathing stabbed through me. This was all my fault. She reached her hand out slowly, cupping the side of my face. "I'm so stupid Dean," She whispered, as I stared shamefully down at the floor. Unwilling to make eye contact with her. To see what I'd caused. "Because, I still love you and care about you. I can't quit you," she continued, my heart shook in surprise. Her hand slid under my chin, gently angling my face upwards, I still looked down though, "You're my little puppy, and I could never abandon my puppy." I looked up at her in surprise, and she had a small smile on her face. "Sandra, I'm so sorry," I said, and I leaned in, and lightly kissed her. The taste of whiskey was on her lips, and I pulled back.

"Dean, can you help me to the restroom?" She asked, leaning forward and resting her face in the nape of my neck. "Sure," I lifted her frail body easily, and took her to the bathroom, she grabbed the nearest rubbish bin and threw up in it. She looked up at me, "You owe me like 20 dollars for this," she snapped, I rolled my eyes.

"How about I just take you on a date instead kitten?"