Hold me? (A Lydia Martin x Dean Winchester fanfic)

(Chapter 6) Injected

It's dark when we get back to the bunker. Sam takes Dean to the dungeons and straps him to the chair that sits in the middle of the Devil's Trap. I sit in another chair a few feet away from Dean, closer to the table.

"I'll be back, I gotta get it." It's been the first thing Sam's said since we got back. "Okay." It's less sad than before but this is gonna be hard till it's over. I watch as he leaves, closing the doors behind him. I hear his footsteps walking away and then complete silence. I stayed sitting sideways in my chair. I could feel Dean's eyes on me, making me feel like I had to stay still. I didn't look at him until I felt the need to. His eyes were cold, and as before, held no warmth for me.

I could hear my breathing, my heart beating in my chest, my nails tapping, a light ringing in my ears. Dean made no sound, no movement I could hear.

I tilted my head, a question popping into my head. "Why did you kill them?" He didn't answer. "They weren't evil." I stood from my chair but did not move toward the circle. He still didn't reply. Just stared like he was waiting for the right moment to say something, something cruel and negative to come from his lips. I needed to be careful. "The man before wouldn't kill them. But why now? I get the power of Cains Mark, but that's not it, is it?" I keep my face from frowning, and stepped right in front of the red line, watching as a sly smile was wanting to break open. "Crowley told us it's you-" "But you don't believe that do you?" He cut me off. "Well, he was right." I took a step back and shook my head. "No-" "I'm just not your pathetic waste of a man who should have cut you down when I had the chance." His tone was violent and I felt like I stopped breathing. Like all the air had been pulled out of my lungs.

"What?"

I saw the smirk he was hiding come out and wanting to play, and I knew he knew what I was feeling. I could tell he was entertained by how I felt. I felt my heart beat faster, my throat clogging. He was winning.

A big hand then slipped onto my shoulder and frightened me, making me turn around. "Oh. Sam." I breathed, the hostility in the air leaving. "You okay." He asked, but his eyes were on Dean. I glanced at him, Dean looked back with a smug smile. I nodded, blinking away the brim of tears that I hadn't noticed. Sam sighs well squeezing my shoulder in a comforting gesture before walking over to Dean. "Really?" He says, eyeing the black rolled-up bag and the little cooler in Sam's hands. "For whatever it's worth, I got your blood type," Sam says with a small sense of humor and I find myself chuckling. "Sam, I know you think you're gonna try and fix me, but ... Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to be fixed?" I purse my lips.

"Just let me go live my life. I won't bother you." He pauses, "What do you care?"

"What do I care?" Sam doesn't turn around, but he's not looking at me either. He shakes his head with an unbelievable expression.

Sam grabs the holy water from the cooler. I grab his hand and give him an approving smile, not from him needing it but to know I wouldn't protest. He walked over to Dean and splashes it on the floor as he begins chanting in Latin. "You think I'm just gonna sit here like Crowley? Getting all weepy while you shoot me up? Well, screw that. I don't want this!" Dean yells as Sam walks back over to me, "And we don't want you like this." I said simply. "Forget our feelings, Dean. Know yours. You're just hurting yourself." I cross my arms, "Really? Doesn't seem like it sweetheart. I might be hurting your precious feelings." his gaze on me becomes sharp, knowing. My hands clench but before I can say much Sam turns and looks at him, his stance becomes defensive. "Don't call her that." He says. His stare is protective, and he's pointing at Dean with a warning. It reminds me of Stiles and makes me smile. I looked up to him, like a brother.

"As I said." He said. He didn't look surprised by Sam's comment. Just raised his eyebrows in what looked to be amusement. Everything to him is amusing now.