REVOKE ▸ d. winchester [1] ✔

Chapter 8

Jackie's POV

Back at the motel, we finally get a good look at our injuries. The three of us seemed to have the same appearance: ripped and dirtied jeans, our faces covered with dirt and multiple cuts.

I didn't notice the pain from the cut on my cheek until all of my adrenaline was gone. I didn't even notice it as we made our way outside of the cave, making our final rounds to ensure our jobs were complete and that we could close this case.

But once we all stepped into that motel room, throwing our bags on the ground, pain seemed to hit us all at once.

I plop down onto the couch as Dean plops down onto one of the beds. We let out a collective sigh.

"Oh come on guys. It wasn't that bad," Sam says to the both of us.

We just groan and stay where we are.

"Well at least clean up your injuries before you crash. They'll get infected."

I let out a huff of air and slowly sit up. I run into the bathroom and grab a washcloth, soaking it with water. When I look into the mirror, I come face to face with a girl whose face is half covered in blood.

"You guys didn't tell me I looked so amazing," I say walking back into the main room.

"We wanted you to discover it for yourself."

"Thanks, Dean."

I dab my face with the damp washcloth and wipe away most of the dried blood. The nasty cut on my face doesn't seem to need stitches, but its still bleeding.

I see Sam struggling to get his jacket off, and once he does, I can see why. His upper arm has a huge gash mark in it, and I'm not sure how I missed the large slash in his jacket made by several claws.

"That looks like a deep one. Here, let me see." I have Sam sit down in a chair and standing behind him, roll up his sleeve a bit.

"You've won yourself a one way ticket to stiches. Congrats."

"Great," Sam says. "I have floss in my bag, I'll get it and-"

"Woah, woah. Two things," I say, interrupting him. "One, you sit here. I'm stictching you up." I lightly shove him back into the chair. "Two, why the hell do you use floss?"

Dean comes into the conversation. "What else would we use? Floss is... Floss."

"Well, I use the one and only..." I pause, grabbing my bag and reaching in until I find what I need. Pulling it out, I finish my sentence. "Fishing line."

Dean shrugs his shoulders and gives a thoughtful nod.

"What'll it be, Sam? Fishing line or floss? I'll use the floss if you want your cut to be minty fresh." I wink at Dean as I see him roll his eyes.

"I'll try the fishing line. Why not?"

Placing a chair right next to Sam's, I set on my task of sewing up Sam's arm while Dean takes a shower. By the time he gets out, Sam's all set and my cut on my cheek had finally stopped bleeding, beginning to scab over.

Later that night, after I had taken a shower and pulled on some sweatpants and a black racerback tank, Dean offers Sam and I some hard earned beers.

I was excited for my beer but never got to enjoy it, due to a misfortune that happened when Dean reached for three beers in the fridge.

"You didn't," I hear Dean mumble.

Confused, I look between the boys as Sam attempts to not laugh for some reason.