DOWNFALL ° DEAN WINCHESTER

THREE

"GET HIM INSIDE," DEAN'S VOICE came through foggy, far away, like she was underwater. "Come on!" Sam and Milan attempted to carry the strong man into the motel room, gently placing him on the uncomfortable mattress as he faded in and out of consciousness. The gash in Robbie's side was bleeding profusely through the makeshift bandage.

"Robbie, you have to stay with us, okay?" Milan's grip on his hand was almost painfully tight.

It was the wife. The priest was in on it, but she was the creature, killing innocent people because of her close-minded opinions.

"Listen here," Milan said, holding up the mixture of rosemary and salt. "You don't kill innocent bystanders and get away with it."

"They aren't innocent," the woman bit. "They're sinners. They're probably rotting in Hell right-"

Milan charged her in an attempt to slow her down, get her in the throat. However, the lamia tackled her to the ground, grabbing her throat.

"You bitch," Milan spat, despite her air being cut off.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" The monster rasped. "You're a sinner, too! I should just kill you right now." The claws that grew from her fingers made Milan squirm, trying her best to get away from the creature before she ended up like the others.

Robbie had jumped in front of her, pushing her away, letting the lamia tackle him to the ground, its claws tearing into his side with brute force.

"Hey!" The sound was a reprieve, a reverie. The deep voice of a man whom Milan had just met echoed through the church, and she silently thanked God for it. He had his own salt and rosemary, and he threw it onto the lamia before she could hurt him. She was dead within seconds. Milan rushed to Robbie's side, attempting with all of her might to stop the bleeding. She ripped the flannel from his shoulders, creating a tourniquet, but the blood still oozed from the wound, hot and tactile.

"Hey," Milan slapped Robbie's face as he began to drift away, eyes closing. Her heart almost stopped as she watched the life fading from his eyes.

"Milan, I," He began, eyes still closed, voice barely above a whisper. "I know this is probably the end and..."

"No!" She stood up, tangling her fingers angrily in her long, chestnut hair. "Don't you dare, Robbie! This is not the end. Sam and Dean are gonna stitch you up and you're gonna be fine, okay?" The two Winchester brothers looked on, the sight one too familiar.

"Do something!" Milan screamed, motioning to Sam and Dean. Her hands and face were covered in crimson, and she could feel the stickiness on her fingers. Sam immediately stood, grabbing the closest bottle of alcohol, fetching some fishing wire from his duffel.

"Okay, Milan," Sam began calmly, a hand on her shoulder. "Can you hold this?" He passed her the roll of fishing line, and she took it from him, hands shaking wildly. She tried to steel herself, tried to make herself believe that things would be okay, but she just couldn't. She had seen everyone she love perish one by one in the most sinister ways, and she wasn't going to let this go. Milan Bradshaw fought for her friends.

Sam was sewing up the wound and Robbie had passed out from the pain. Milan gripped his hand tightly, making sure that he didn't go limp, that he was still breathing. Robbie was Milan's only friend that was still alive, and she wasn't going to lose him. Dean stood behind Milan, occasionally rubbing her shoulder or placing a comforting hand on her back. His fingertips were warm, leaving traces of himself everytime he pulled away.

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When she woke up, it was light outside. She was laying on the other bed, the one next to Robbie's still sleeping form. Sam was asleep at the table, and Dean was asleep in the armchair in the corner of the room, a beer bottle hanging from his fingers, the remnants of the bottle dripping and creating a puddle of amber on the wooden floor.

She watched Robbie carefully, eyes trained on his chest and the rising and falling of it. He was alive.

Milan stood up and went into the restroom, pulling her mangled hair up into a ponytail, strands still falling in her face in thin tendrils. She splashed water onto her face, breathing in deeply, and finally, she relieved herself.

When she exited the cramped bathroom, Sam had stirred, but Dean and Robbie were still asleep.

"Is he okay?" She breathed, looking back at her friend. Blood was still seeping through his shirt, but there was only a trace of crimson.

"He will be," Sam replied, giving her a soft smile. "He took a hard hit for you."

"I know," Milan responded, hands gripping the back of the wooden chair. "I'm poisonous. I can't put him in danger anymore."

"Milan-"

"No, Sam," the women kept her voice level, careful not to wake the sleeping men. "I'm leaving him behind. It's the only way he'll be safe."

"You can't hunt alone."

"I've spent the last six months hunting alone," Milan explained, lifting her tank top to reveal a scar. Large bite marks. "This is the only time I've gotten hurt. Stupid werewolf."

There was a hint of a smile on his face, but he remained somber. "At least come with Dean and I." The offer was tempting, but she wasn't about to put their lives at risk, either.

"No. I'd rather die for my friends than have them die for me. I don't want to put you in harm's way."

"Sweetheart," A new voice caused Milan to turn to the other man sitting in the chair, who was rubbing his neck. "We're the Winchesters. We're already Heaven and Hell's most wanted." He stood, moving toward the door. "Sam and I are going to pack. If you want to come with us, which would kill your boy-toy over here, be ready in half an hour."

The two slammed the door, which caused Milan to flinch and Robbie to startle awake. He tried to sit up, but Milan rushed to his side, stopping him.

"Wait," she pushed his body back down onto the bed. "You're hurt. I wouldn't recommend that."

"I saved your life, though, so it's worth it."

"Robbie," Milan sighed, running a sweaty hand over her face. "I'm leaving."

"What do you mean?" He reached out a hand, but she didn't take it.

"I can't keep putting you in danger," she breathed. "I love you, Robbie." His face lit up. "Like a brother." It fell. "And I can't stand to see you hurt. So I'm leaving. With Sam and Dean."

"You can't," his voice broke.

She grabbed fresh gauze and redressed the wound and grabbing her things, leaving Robbie without a second glance.