I felt him collapsing into my arms, losing consciousness. He was hit.
"No no no you are not dying you don't have the privilege of dying you are gonna be fine I won't let you leave you have a family to come back to." I kept muttering all the time, dragging him to the helicopter and placing him on the floor, near the others. I bandaged him quickly and checked his pulse. It was unsteady, and he looked like he didn't eat or drink in a week. Suddenly, his heart stopped.
"No no no." I started performing CPR, pressing his chest repeatedly. With every press I said a name.
"Bobby. Sam. Ellen. Jo. Charlie. Me. Mary. You are not leaving us." I pushed two strong breathes into his lungs, and kept pressing. Thirty times, two breathes, and I checked him. He was breathing on his own now, and his heart beat, almost unsure whether to keep going or stop again.
"Winchester, you have work to do!" Pamela yelled at me. I pressed his hand lightly, like that day at the hospital, and got up.
"I'll be back soon." I whispered and walked away, blocking my emotions.
I took care of the other hostages. They were all conscious, all terrified and all terribly injured, cut and tortured. They talked about a man so monstrous he laughed at their suffering and drank their blood as he tortured them. He came at their last month there. They were forced to watch him torturing their friends. I patched their wounds until Leo came to me. He was a new guy, young and shy.
"You are wounded. I'll help you." He said, not even asking. He dug in my flesh to pull the bullet from the back of my shoulder and stitched me. I held my breath, not allowing my pain to show. He finished, and I stood up.
"Thanks kid. You did well today. I'll drop a few words about you at the high windows." I winked and walked to Dean. His face was less pale, and his breath more peaceful. Someone stuck a needle in his arm and connected it to an IV bag. Good. He will be fine. I checked the bullet wounds in his shoulder. It stopped bleeding, but the bullet was still in. I took tweezers and slowly pulled it out. New, warm blood streamed throw the wound. I quickly cleaned the place and patched it. Dean flinched. I knew it's a good sign. It meant that he was feeling. Alive. I set near him, awake, until we got to the hospital.
DONTSLEEPDONTSLEEPDONT
I forced myself to stay awake and watch Dean. I couldn't leave him alone. They forced me to handcuff him to the bed, in case he wakes up and tries to hurt himself or others. He won't want to be locked after a year, four months, thirteen days and around nine hours of torture. I counted the hours without him. Suddenly, as I drifted in my thoughts, he started shifting and breathing heavily. His eyes shot open and he looked confused, fighting the handcuffs.
"Hey Dean it's okay you are at the hospital we rescued you you are out you are not there anymore" I repeated, caressing his hair and holding his handcuffed hand. I unlocked the handcuffs and let them fall, holding my husband while repeating this one sentence: it's okay. You are out. You are free.
Slowly he stopped fighting and gave up to the broken sobbing. I lay on the uncomfortable hospital bed, and held his head close to my chest.
"'m sorry. So sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry." He muttered shakily.
"It's okay. You've been through so much. But it's okay now. You are out." I whispered slowly, trying to calm him down.
"I'm sorry. It's just anxiety. It'll pass soon." He shivered. I held him until he relaxed.
"Sorry, Cas. It's just anxiety. I'm pretty experienced with that. Sorry for making you worried. I... I just can't believe I'm here, and you are here. I still wait to wake up down there." He said.
"You seem familiar with all this." I said, waiting to see if he will explain.
"I... It started when I was young. My father... He would beat me for every mistake I did. And then he would leave me, on the floor, shaking and crying. I had to... Be quiet, so Sammy won't worry. I-" he started, and I knew he wanted to apologize.
"It's okay. Relax. No one will hurt you. No one. I'm here. It's okay. It's okay. You're safe."I whispered, moving my hand slowly all over he scarred body until he fell asleep.
The next six months were hard. Dean had to readjust to the real world. At the beginning, he could barely move because of the time he spent tied up to a wall, and his mental state was unstable. He would barely sleep, eat, or move unless he was forced to. His eyes were distant, like he looked through me. But slowly he started getting better. He would get out of bed, eat, and look at me. He would even talk a little.
"Cas, I'm not missing Mary's birthday again. I can't. I need to see our daughter, and so do you. You weren't home for six months. The girl needs her parents." He said. I agreed. He seemed better recently, and the family did miss him.
"Okay." I sighed, and he smiled.
We stood in front of Sam's house, and Dean looked nervous. He knocked on the door.
"Wait a second!" We heard a very tired Sam yelling. His footsteps were heavy as he walked to the door. When he opened it, his face filled with shock.
"Dean?"
(A/N: Hey guys, how are you? I hope you enjoy the story! I had troubles writing "Don't be Jack", so it took me tons of time, but I'm back now! Please, comment. It's very important to me.)
