Amnesia

chapter 19

The clang of metal got his attention. Perfect, he opened the door just enough so he could slip inside. The flickering light in the room concealed him enough to sneak up behind the man. Quietly, he reached down for the knife and suddenly froze, pain shattering the left side of his body. Looking up, he gritted his teeth. My mistake, he stared up at the man's face.

He smirked before yanking the knife out of his shoulder, pointing the blade drenched with his and her blood at Dean. Am I going to die? He half imagined that this was just a bad dream, that he would wake up in his bed, safe from harm. Yet the pain felt so real. If agony won't wake me up, what will?

He glanced over at Dawn. "I'm so sorry," he lowered his head slightly. "I failed you." A sharp jab to the side and he crashed into the floor. His vision swam, but he could make two things out. The figure of the man, and his burning eyes that were now targeting him.

Dean struggled to his feet but was kicked down before he could stand. He got onto his hands and knees, blood trickling from his nose. "Why?" He looked up at the man. "Why do you do this? Why us?"

Instead of an answer, he socked him in the jaw, knocking him back. Dean stared up, his vision dotting. Get up Dean. She needs you more than ever now. He rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

His vision focused and he once again struggled to his feet. Gritting his teeth, he tackled at the man's from behind. "Get off of me, you bloody-" the man didn't get to finish his sentence. They both ran into the desk. The clang of metal broke the fight.

Dean released his grip from the man and went after the knife. The man scrambled after the knife a few seconds after him but was too late, he already had a grasp on the knife. Standing up, he pointed the blade at the man, his heart beginning to beat faster. "Go ahead, try." The psycho held his arms out wide. "You won't be able to do it."

He was right, he wasn't able to do it. I can't take the life of someone else, no matter what they did. The tip of the blade shook violently. The man grinned. "I knew you couldn't do it, you-" he was interrupted once more as Dean shoved the tip into his stomach.

The man's eyes went wide with shock as his arms went limp and dropped to his sides. His mouth, still open, expressed that of an -O. "Y-you actually did it?" The man's face was steadily going pale. "H-how did my plan fail?" His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He let the body drop on the floor before he approached Dawn. Crouching down onto one knee, he brushed one hand against her battered cheek. "Dawn, wake up." She didn't respond. "Dawn." He said a little louder.

She still didn't respond. He grabbed her hand, and closed his eyes for a second. Her hand is so cold. Gulping, he rested his head against her chest and closed his eyes. He tried listening for her heart beat and bit his bottom lip. I can't be too late.

Opening his eyes, he looked at her peaceful face. "You can't leave us Dawn. You can't." Tears were sliding down his cheek. He grasped onto her lifeless hand.

"Please, wake up." His voice was hushed. "Please." Someone was sobbing behind him and he felt the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder but he was too wrapped up in grief to care or turn around. "Dawn." He cried out, even though he knew she couldn't hear him now or ever again.

The hand was gone and was replaced by the soft touch of gentle fabric. Someone grabbed his hand and pulled him up on his feet, but he no longer had the will to fight. The person started to lead him away. As they walked out the door, he looked back, and now saw a place of despair and what could of been instead of what should of been. Closing his eyes, he faced forward, turning his back on the broken promise and the broken dreams.

Dean sat in the back of the ambulance as people examined at his shoulder. His gaze was focused on the entrance. He watched as two police men walked with the respond team as they carried the man out on a stretcher and loaded him onto another ambulance. In a few seconds the ambulance drove off, the siren wailing off in the distance. His gaze moved back to the entrance.

He watched as the Coroners went in with a bag and refused to look away. I couldn't save her. The tears had dried up, but he felt empty inside. What am I going to tell Rachael? The Coroners came out, carrying the filled body bag and he lowered his head. Poor Dawn, what did she think in her last moments?

He stared down at his hands and clenched and unclenched them. Was she afraid? Did she cry? He hoped she died in peace, that she went unconscious, but that too much to ask. Why couldn't it have been me?

Looking back up, he froze. Rachael was a shriveled mess wrapped in a blanket. Her cries seemed inhuman. She already knows. His heart dropped even more. I can't face her now, not like this.

Nadia was by her side, saying something too quiet for his ears too hear. Probably words of encouragement. Or grief, he sighed. The house is going to be empty without Dawn. He lifted his head when he realized someone was screaming.

His eyes landed on the infant and his froze in his throat. Dawn? He thought he saw a ghost, but after rubbing his eyes he realized that, like the moment, the baby was not an illusion. What else was she hiding from us? He didn't know the answer but he knew what was right in front of him.