Broken Apart (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Just a Scratch

You had never believed the fact that critical or scary moments could happen in slow motion. You always believed they happened in the blink of an eye, with the person forgetting most of the facts. But here you were, being proven wrong. As you moved as fast as you could to where Dean was standing, you could hear the stillness of the trees, you could smell the moldy undergrowth of the forest, but you could not hear the words coming from Benny's mouth.

You dove in front of Dean just as you heard the swish of the blade cutting through the air, before you felt in slice into your shoulder. You groaned as the pain coursed through you. Your groan seemed to wake Dean from his daze, because he glanced at you in horror as Benny and the forest faded from view, turning back into the dusty, and cluttered living room.

Both of you glanced to his hand, where the blade had been. Now he was holding a shattered wine bottle, the broken glass glistening with your dark blood. Placing a hand on your shoulder, you staggered under the pain, before catching yourself from falling. Dean wrapped his arm around your shoulder, holding you tightly as he glanced you over.

"It's just a scratch." You assured him, taking your hand off of the wound, wincing as you realized it was still bleeding freely.

"That's more than a scratch. That's going to need stitches." Dean told you, glancing around for anything in the room that could be used. Muttering under his breath, he stripped out of his flannel shirt, pressing it hard against your shoulder, making you hiss in pain.

"Sissy." Dean called you, trying to take your attention away from the pain.

You shook him off, holding his shirt to your shoulder. "Dean, we have more important things to worry about here. If that sent you to Purgatory, and wanted you to kill yourself, than where is Sam?"

He glanced around, looking for his brother. "The basement!" He exclaimed, rushing through the room to the kitchen. You followed, feeling a little weak from your cut. He took the basement stairs two at a time, and soon you lost track of him as you took your time. Each step jarred your shoulder, but you trudged on, leaning against the wall as you made it down. You felt sweaty, and weak, but what you saw in front of you stopped your heart.

Sam was sitting in front of an old iron safe, one with intricate designs on the front, a bowl below it, full of blood. Sam was leaning listlessly to the side, his skin looking ashen as Dean gently tapped his cheek.

You waited, holding your breath, to see if Sam was okay. You glanced down at his arm, where you could see a deep slice across it, blood still oozing from the wound. "Come on Sammy." You whispered, sighing in relief when he took a deep gasping breath.

"Hey, Sammy, it's okay." Dean muttered to him, patting hit on his shoulder, his movements full of relief.

"Dean, no, I can't stop. It needs more." Sam pleaded, trying to push Dean out of the way to get back to the bowl.

"Sam, stop, you are in no shape to do this." Dean tried ordering, but Sam shook his head.

"No, it needs more. It needs more legacy blood." Sam kept repeating, unfocused due to his blood loss.

"Okay Sammy, I'm hearing you. But you're not the only legacy here." Dean said, grabbing the knife that was on the floor, and you winced as Dean sliced his own arm, turning it over so the blood poured down, into the bowl.

It didn't need much more, and soon the three of you heard a clicking noise, and the door opened by itself, revealing a small, leather bound book. Dean reached in and grabbed it, before turning back to Sam, helping him stand. You had already turned, and was slowly making your way up the stairs, and back into the kitchen.

Opening cupboards and drawers, you finally found what you were looking for, clean, white towels. By then, Dean had pushed Sam up the stairs, and Sam was standing unsteadily, but on his own. You took the towels over, wrapping them around his wrists, before tucking the ends in. You did the same to Dean's arm, but he pushed you back.

"How's your shoulder?" He asked, and you looked at it. In your haste to get towels for Sam, you had dropped Dean's flannel shirt. Your shoulder was caked in blood, your shirt ripped showing the shredded skin below. It had slowed down immensely, but was still painful.

"I'll live. What happened to Suzie?" You asked Sam.

"She was dead. The door finally opened, and when I got in there, she had unloaded a bullet into her mouth." He told you.

"We have the book, let's get the hell out of here." Dean said, wrapping his arm around his brothers shoulders, helping him out the door. You lead the way, opening the door, wincing as each step jarred your shoulder. Opening the passenger door, Sam fell into the passenger seat.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dean asked you, and you nodded.

"It's stopped bleeding, and it's not as deep as I first thought. I will be fine." You insisted, climbing into the backseat, leaning your head against the cool window. You were exhausted, ready to get back to the bunker, and get cleaned up.

"So Sam, any idea what's in the book?" Dean asked, handing it over to him.

Sam shrugged, the movement pulling at the slices on his arms. "I don't know. But this way it's safe back at the bunker."

Dean pulled the Impala away, pointing it towards home, all three of you quiet for different reasons. You knew Dean probably remembered what had happened in Purgatory, and was worrying over it, while Sam was thinking about the book, and what it meant about freeing Dean from the Mark. And here you were, worrying about both of them, knowing Dean was hiding so much, and Sam was worried so much about his brother. It left you in the middle, not the best place to be in, and you knew at one point in time, it would bite you in the butt.

"So Y/N. How did you get injured?" Sam asked, breaking the quiet spell. 

"Well, I went to check on Dean, and he was in a trance due to whatever that spell was. But I tried to break him out of it, and hence the new shoulder look." You told him, making light of the situation.

"Well, we're all a mess. Who would have thought going after a simple book would have resulted in something like that. I don't know about you guys, but I could go for a shower, than beer and food." Dean said, and you felt your stomach rumble in response.

"Yeah me too." You answered, but when everyone turned quiet again, you watched as Dean tightened his grasp on the steering wheel, to the point of white knuckles.