Chapter 24 : Save Him

by

     I held my knees close to my chest as the water drizzled down my back. I wasn't sure what had come over me, but the moment I stepped into the guys' room and saw their bags and clothes thrown about, something in me clicked, and I fell. Everything that had happened in the last three days came crashing back to a sound mind, and I had no idea how to process it.

     This was the torture Azazel had always promised me. This is what he thrived on. Watching me battle back and forth with myself, trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do, was all too sweet to him. It was a losing battle either way, but I was far too deep to walk away now.

     If I didn't kill John, Dean died, and if I did, Dean would never forgive me. Either way, we would never end up on the same side, but for some reason, even though I knew it was the right thing to do, I couldn't walk away. I wasn't sure why, but I had a feeling it had something to do with the way he looked at me when he thought I was leaving once again or how concerned he was when I decided to go off on my own. It was familiar, and I wanted to hold onto that feeling, if only for a bit longer. 

     My hands went to my head as I pushed back the dark strands of hair. I gripped it tightly and pulled, tighter and tighter, as the tears welled in my eyes, waiting for the pain, but nothing other than a chill ran through my body, and I sat there. Quiet. Still.  There was no thudding. No humming. No ear-piercing ring that always came before a wave of pain. Silence. It was more welcome than anything in my life, and I would have cried tears of joy right then and there if my phone hadn't rung from the kitchen.

      It rang until my voicemail picked it up. I was in no hurry to explain it all to Bobby or even think about John. All I wanted to do was stare at the girl in the mirror. The former version of myself that I never thought I would see again.

      My hair was no longer thinning, my cheeks were no longer sunken, and the whites of my eyes were no longer yellow or bloodshot. I was me again, and the slight pressure behind my eyes as I tried to hold back the tears was welcomed as a reminder.

     I wasn't sure how long I had been standing there admiring every scar, pore, or knock on my face, but by the time I slipped into my pajamas and grabbed a beer from the fridge, the boys were walking through the front door.

     "You two look like shit," I said with a small smile as they kicked off their muddy boots. "Did you run all the way?" 

     "Walked," Dean growled.

     My eyes widened, and I glanced up at Sam, hoping they were joking, but he pursed his lips and dropped his head.

      "Why the hell didn't you call me?" I shouted at the two of them as I grabbed my phone. "I would have come and got yous."

      Neither of them responded as I stared down at the missed call on my phone, and as the guilt settled in my stomach, Dean shoved past me and made his way towards the fridge.

      "You drank my last beer?"

      "I'd like to think of it as my reward for saving your ass," I said before taking a sip of it with a smile. He gripped the door of the fridge and closed his eyes for a moment, but before he could spew anything at me, I offered to run down the street to the bar and get more. 

     "No, I'll go." Sam offered. "I'm starving anyway. Hopefully, the kitchens are still open."

     I hadn't realized how hungry I was until he mentioned food, and it in my stomach grew as I tried to remember the last time I could eat a full meal. I wanted to go with him and order every fried appetizer they had on their menu, but for some reason, Sam seemed a little off, so I settled for making a quick list before handing him some money.

     He left quickly, and I made my way over to Dean. He was slouched back against the counter, covered in bloodstains and dirt. I didn't notice the beating he had taken earlier until he struggled to get his jacket off.

      "Need some help?" I asked him as I set the beer down on the table. He shook his head at me. I sitting he could do it on his own. "Are you sure about that?" I asked again, realizing the shoulder of his jacket had been stuck to the burn.

      "Positive."

      He slowly walked past me, grabbed my beer from the counter, and nodded before disappearing into the bathroom. He left the door open, but I didn't follow. He seemed angry with me, and the last thing I wanted to do was start a fight with him when he was in a mood.

     "Fine, I'm gonna catch up with Sam then," I called from the other side of the door as I began to change out of my shorts and into my black jeans. "Do you need anything before I go?"

     "Scissors."

      I grinned at the irritation in his voice began searching the small kitchen area for a pair of scissors, but after a few pained and agitated growls from the bathroom, I grabbed my knife and pulled the door open.

      The jacket had fused to his skin along with his shirt, and he sat on the toilet holding it, nearly ready to just rip it away.

     "Hold still," I instructed as I waved my knife at him. His green eyes widened, and even though he continued to insist that he could do it on his own, I shook my head at him and told him to be quiet. "You're not going to be able to cut it from that angle without it pulling at your skin."

       He held his breath as I dumped the garbage can over and Settled in front of him. He was reluctant at first, but I worked carefully not to cut him as I sawed away at the thin fabric of his jacket and shirt.            "That looks pretty bad."

     "I've had worse," he groaned as he took the knife from me and cut at the shirt. Despite my insistence on staying still, he stood up and pulled his shirt off with his other arm, leaving nothing more than the small patches of fabric that were burnt into his skin. "This is gonna suck."          "I can do it if you want?" I offered, trying to keep my eyes away from the scars that littered his sculpted torso.

     "I thought you wanted a drink?"

     "Yeah, well... It's probably best I stay out of bars for a while." I said with a small smile as I dug through the cabinets, searching for a first aid kit.

        It took some convincing, more than I actually thought it would, but he sat quietly as I went to work on his shoulder. He was quiet at first, but as I removed the cloth from his skin, he began to growl and cuss until I took off my belt and made him bite down on it to keep him quiet. I was intentionally hurting him, but I hadn't seen a burn like this in quite a while, and I was never one to have gentle hands.