Where Do We Go From Here? ↳ Dean Winchester

Thirty

Early the next morning, I get a phone call from Layla. She sounds frantic; it's hard for me to understand her when she sounds that way, especially when I'm still half asleep.

"Slow down, Layla," I murmur, pulling the blanket off of me. I sit up and unplug the alarm clock so it won't go off in ten minutes. "Okay, now one sentence at a time," I say, slowly, so she understands that my brain is not awake yet. "What's going on?" I hear her take a deep breath on the other end of the line.

"Alright," she starts. "They flew Jasper in about an hour ago. He came in the doors—with his face half covered in blood— and some guys were helping him walk. He wasn't even fully conscious. They said he was shot in the shoulder and he broke his leg..." She trails off, and I'm pretty sure she's on the verge of tears. When I imagine Jasper in that condition, my heart winces a bit as well.

"Is it okay if I come down there and see him?" I ask, sitting at the table. The lamp next to Sam switches on, and his sleepy form comes into view. I shush him as he starts questioning me. Dean wakes up shortly after, mouthing words to his brother.

"Yeah, he'll probably want to see you when he wakes up," she replies, sniffling a bit. "Just...stay in the waiting room when you get here. I'll come and get you when they let me, alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be right down." We mumble our goodbyes as we each hang up. I move from the table to put on my shoes. I have not seen Jasper in two years. Also, going through all that fighting and bloodshed probably changed him a lot. How bad is it going to be?

"What's going on?" The elder Winchester asks, his voice sleepy, and so damn attractive. I shake the thoughts from my head, reminding myself not to get distracted.

"Layla's brother just got back," I say, grabbing a soda from the fridge. I know it's early, but I need to get woken up better than this if I'm going to see my best friend again. "He's wounded pretty badly, so I thought I'd go down and see him."

"Now?" Sam rubs his eyes. "It's five thirty. Aren't visiting hours a little later than this?" I roll my eyes, opening the motel room door.

"I know people there. Besides, he's my best friend. I have to be there for him." I start closing the door, but Dean's voice stops me.

"Well, if you're going, than we're going with you," he says, standing up from the bed. I turn on the room light and lower my eyebrows at them. I cross my arms and give Dean a look. "Well, if we're gonna do this trusting thing, than we're gonna have to stick together." I scoff, unfolding my arms.

"You think I'm making this up? You think I'd get up at five thirty in the morning, and make up something like that so I could just sneak off? You really think I'd do that?" He purses his lips together, heading towards the bathroom.

"I don't know think I know hardly anything about you, sweetheart, but I think I'll find out." A teeny smirk lingers across his lips as he shuts the bathroom door. I raise my eyebrows in slight shock. I would normally be upset about what he said, if he didn't add that last little part. No one has ever called me anything like that before, or said anything like that to me ever.

"You should see your face," Sam says, laughing a bit. Still caught in a small haze from what Dean said, I shake my head and lower my eyebrows at Sam. "You are blushing like crazy. I think your ears may catch on fire." Blushing even more, I step outside, slamming the door behind me.

I'm not sure what it is, but it is difficult for me to be around people for so long. Maybe it's because I used to get bullied a bit before (and right after) my brother died, or maybe it's because I'm afraid of getting close to people that I know I could lose just as quickly.