"I've been told plenty of times I'm a monster - it's time to prove them wrong. Even the devil knows that's a compliment."
Her friend was one of many to die at the hands of the Winchesters. Another splash of blood on their red stained hands. They di...
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The door slammed open, smacking against the back wall. "Sam," Dean's cracked voice echoed, coughing into his hand. The hunt had gone well, but Dean had walked away with more than just a few cuts and bruises - no thanks to Cas. They'd been hunting down the monster when Cas froze, concentration drawn on his face, and the next moment, he was gone. Dean was left all by himself, not only to take down the monster, which had been an ex soldier vampire, but to also drive home, and he was not impressed with the amount of blood he managed to get on his car. No bleach will be able to get rid of the taint of betrayal.
The scratch on the car and now this; his baby had suffered enough.
He coughed again, having to lean on the door for support. This wouldn't have happened if Cas was there, and didn't abandon him like everyone else. "Sam," he cried out again, hoping his little brother could hear his pain and come to his aid. His plea was met with silence, and grunting, he powered forward, blood dripping down his hand that clenched at his abdomen. It left droplets behind him, a trail of agony, and marred the once pristine floor.
"Sam!" He screamed, pressing harder on his chest to stop the relentless flow. Dean was becoming more desperate: he could feel the tan leaving his face, only a waxy complexion remaining.
"Sam," he whimpered, dragging himself down the stairs, the cold of the metal rail sending shivers down his spine but reminding him he's still alive. He's still there. The blood pouring out of his chest was another reminder, and despite the pain it was he felt over the moon for being alive. A smile lit up his face, and this thought gave him the courage to let his body carry him down another step.
His foot made contact with the step and in one heart stopping moment he slipped. Rolling down the stairs, he groaned non stop, his head clashing violently with each stair. The world twisted and turned, and he felt as though he had been sucked into Wonderland. His head spun, and he felt a pull towards sleep.
Crashing at last at the bottom, he sprawled out, hand no longer blocking the wound pumping blood. It bled more furiously, as though it was begging to leave his body, dampening his plaid shirt and pooled around him. His head was lolled to the side, and his face was a picture of peace - a strange and rare emotion to pass Dean Winchesters face.
Sam bolted up at hearing the bangs, grabbing his pistol and pushing Ebony behind him. She rolled her eyes, quickly rushing into the kitchen to snatch up a knife and shoving past Sam, sneaking to the front of the bunker where they heard the noises. She thought it was extremely foolish of Sam to think she was safer behind; she had the perfect angle to attack. In the three days they'd stayed alone in the bunker he really had taken a shine to her, she noticed smugly.
Creeping along on her tiptoes, she gestured for Sam to wait where he was and she'd check it out. He didn't like that one bit, glaring at her but not moving from his position, his finger never off the trigger.
