Supernatural Imagines

Florence Nightingale For A Night (Dean)

This was your seventh missed call to Dean's phone. No answer, once again, piled on top of all the worry and concern. You paced around, dialing Sam's number. Three rings later, he picked up, to your relief.

"Oh my God Sam! Where the hell have you been? Why isn't Dean answering his phone? I've been worried sick!" You said in a rush. Sam groaned, "We were attacked badly. Dean's alive... but he isn't going to be for much longer-"

"WHAT?!" You were about to explode. "He got shot in the thigh and he's bleeding buckets," Sam said, a bit shaken. You heard Dean yell loudly with agony. You bit you lip, "Where are you guys? Close by?"

"We're two minutes from the motel," Sam said and ended the call. You stood there, frozen with shock. You mentally slapped yourself to come out of the trance.

You rushed to the washroom, retrieving the first aid kit from one of the drawers. You opened in up, searching if everything you needed was there.

The door of the room swung open. Sam trembled as he helped Dean walk to the table. You pushed everything off, but carefully picked up Sam's laptop. You helped Sam lay Dean down on the table. Dean yelled in pain and you winced a bit. You turned to Sam, who had a sad look.

"Are you okay?" You asked, holding his arm. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just help him out," Sam said and walked into the washroom, shutting the door.

You ran a hand through your hair and tied it into a messy bun. "Okay Dean, be prepared for pain and misery," You removed his hair off his forehead and kissed it, "You'll be fine."

You looked around the room for a towel and you found a small white one. You folded it up and asked Dean to open his mouth.

"What? Why?!" He asked, clearly confused. "It's going to hurt like hell so... it'll help," You answered. He opened his mouth slowly and you stuffed the towel in his mouth. He looked at you with anger, saying something but it was muffled. You rolled your eyes.

"Babe, this is going to hurt a lot," You took your tweezers and looked slightly afraid. Dean looked at it and he looked afraid as well.

"I need to get this bullet out. I know you've gone through this before," You said and he held your hand. He was actually scared, you've never seen him like that.

"Deep breath, Dean," You said and went for his wound. Dean immediately jerked, squeezing the life out of your hand. He had tears streaming down his face, you felt so bad for him. "Shhhh... It's almost done," You said, then whispered, "Where is that freaking bullet?"

As disgusting as it sounds, you dug around the bullet wound for the object that caused it.

Finally, you found it, hiding a bit deep inside. You took it out carefully and showed it to Dean, "Here's the bugger." You placed the bullet on a tissue and covered it with another.

You rubbed your hands together, "Now one last thing. This is going to hurt more." Dean was panting, looking extremely tired.

You picked up the bottle of anit-septic and took another towel. Dean started to shake his head. "Baby, I have to do this," You said and kissed him, this time on his lips.

You poured a generous amount of liquid on the towel and looked at Dean. When he nodded, you covered the wound with the towel. Dean jerked again, this time more harder. You had to hold him down. He screamed, through the towel in his mouth.

"Shhhhh, it's over baby," You said softly and started stiching him up. You then wrapped his leg with a bandage. Once he had calmed down, you helped him sit up.

He was breathing heavily, as if he had just ran a marathon. Dean was sweating and tear stains were on his cheeks. He removed the towel from his mouth, teeth marks permanently embedded.

You stepped closer to the table and he rested his head on your chest. He hugged you and you hugged him back, rubbing his back slowly. "My brave soldier," You said and kissed his head.

He shut his eyes as you swayed a bit, he was really tired. You rubbed his shoulders, looking down at his face. He was sleeping.

"Baby, don't sleep here," You bent down a bit and mumbled into his ear. You helped him off the table and took him to his bed. He didn't bother changing his clothes, only removing his flannel shirt and leaving the black, and comparatively clean, shirt underneath.

You tucked him in. "Goodnight," You said and kissed his head once again. You started walking away but he grabbed your arm. He tugged on it, pulling you back to the bed.

"Sleep with me," He said tiredly. You thought for a moment then got into bed next to him. You got under the covers and lay your head on his chest.

"Thanks for fixing me, Florence Nightingale," Dean said and you smiled, surprised at the fact that he knew who that historical person was.