Fish out of Water (A Sequel to Flightless Bird, SPN FanFic)

Pain Killer (8)

"Game over." he said and I heard the hammer cut through the air behind me. I braced myself, still on the ground and watched blood drip from a head wound to the floor as I waited for him to deliver a final blow. However, nothing of the sort transpired. The hammer fell to the ground and a struggle broke out behind me with grunting and heaving. I turned just enough to be washed over with relief. Castiel had saved me.

"It's over." he says quietly at first but Dean continues to growl and try and fight Castiel who had his arms wrapped around Dean from behind, holding him in a sort of bear hug. Dean's eyes turned black and Castiel's lit up a vibrant blue. "Dean, it's over." he yelled and I closed my eyes, sighing as all the fear began to decimate. "It's over." 

"Scarlett!" I hear Sam's footsteps running down the hall towards me and he slid onto the ground in front of me, taking my arms which sent a shock through my shoulder. My mouth hung open and and I whined in pain which caused Sam to let go. "What is it? What hurts?" he asks me in a state of panic. he lifts my chin and examines my face. Before he could make a comment his eyes shoot daggers in Dean's direction. His face softens as he looks as Castiel. "Cas, thank-"

"I'll take care of it." he responded and cut Sam's gratitude short. I heard Castiel struggle to lead Dean away but didn't focus much on it, my mind was clouded by throbbing pain in my shoulder. 

"I could kill him," Sam says bitterly as he stares at the gash on my head. I smile. 

"No you couldn't."

Sam got me off the ground and walked me down the now eerily quiet halls to our bedroom. When we got there, he fixed up the bed sheets and left me standing by the door holding my arm close to my chest, gently. He arranged the pillows and patted the bed, indicating for me to come sit. I walked over, holding my tears back and sat down in the bed, resting my back against the headboard. He unbuttoned my jeans and hauled them off, throwing them across the room and taking the blankets up over my legs, making me comfortable. He then crossed the room and walked into the washroom off our bedroom, returning with a first aid kit and a wet cloth a few moments later. He began dabbing the blood off my face, gingerly. I winced as he hit the open wound which was sore and surely bruised. 

"Dammit Scar," he sighed, shaking his head and staring at me with deep sympathy. 

"I've really lost my touch," I say quietly. "I couldn't protect myself, I wasn't always this useless."

"We're not going there." he said. 

"I wouldn't have said it if it weren't true. It seems like since I got back, all you've been doing is saving my ass." I say. 

"I don't mind." he responds and smiles lightly. "It comes with the job." I hold my tongue while he continues cleaning up my face when he finally says. "On the bright side, you're not going to need stitches." he tells me and takes steri strips out of the first aid kits and places them over the wound.

"I think he messed my arm up," I tell him. "it's hurt like a son of a bitch." I chew my lip and he lays the cloth down and unbuttons my shirt. He helps me slip my good arm out of its sleeve but as soon as he tried with my other arm, we both knew it wasn't going to happen. He pulled it gently which caused me to suck in a sharp breath and tears began to roll relentlessly. 

"Hold on," he said and took his knife out of his pocket and raised it to my sleeve. 

"I really like this shirt," I muttered through tears as he began the cut me free. When he got me out of it, his face let me know it really wasn't good. I looked down slightly and saw my forearm was black and blue from where Dean had first struck me, however, I didn't have the guts to look at my shoulder.