As It Was - Dean Winchester

Part 70

"Henriksen! Hey," Sam said to gain his attention. "Is that you in there?"

The federal agent looked dazed and confused but managed to get up enough to sit down on the bed. His face was wet from the holy toilet water, and his eyes darted across the room disorientedly until he noticed the Sheriff's dead body.

" I... I shot the Sheriff."

I knew it was coming before Dean even opened his mouth, and I closed my eyes to search for strength.

"But you didn't shoot the deputy."

When I opened my eyes again, I saw a boyish grin telling me he was proud of his joke. He dropped it when he noticed Sam's expression, then looked at him as if searching for support. Whatever he saw on my face made him turn back to Henriksen again.

"Five minutes ago, I was fine, and then..." The clearly shaken agent trailed off in disbelief at what he had experienced.

"Let me guess," Dean filled in. "Some nasty black smoke jammed itself down your throat?"

"You were possessed," Sam added.

Henriksen looked between the brothers and me. "Possessed, like... possessed?"

"Possessed as in demonic possession," I clarified.

"That's what it feels like," Sam told him, leaning against the cell bars, still on the floor. "Now you know."

Dean looked down on Henriksen, saying, "I owe the biggest 'I told you so' ever," before gesturing for me to return his gun.

Henriksen appraised us for a moment, then accepted the gun. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and then got to his feet. "Officer Amici. Keys..."

"No need," I interjected, pulling my hands free with little effort, then stepped out of the chains around my feet. Sam did the same, and not until then did Henriksen seem to notice that Dean was also already free of his chains. He shook his head, "How?"

I smirked. "I told you you had no idea what you signed up for. You would never have gotten us to that supermax in Nevada, chopper or not."

He looked at me and ran a hand over his face to wipe away some of the water and regain his composure. "All right, so how do we survive?"

And at that, I grinned and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad you finally asked."

---

Sammy began to spray paint devil traps at all entrances and under windows while I patched up Dean the best I could. I was no medical expert, but I had devoured my fair share of books on anatomy and medicine after we discovered Sammy was immune to the Croatoan virus. Besides, I was born a hunter. I had done a few patching-ups before.

Nancy acted as my nurse, handing me whatever I needed, and Amici and Henriksen took stock of the weapons in the police station.

"Well, that's nice. It's not gonna do much good," Dean commented as they dumped their guns, rifles, and ammo on one o the desks.

Deputy Amici looked at Dean as though he had been dropped on his head as a baby. "We got an arsenal here."

"You don't poke a bear with a BB gun," the hunter scoffed. "That's just gonna make them mad."

Henriksen began to loosen his tie. "What do you need?"

"My family's Colt back," I mumbled, only loud enough for Dean to hear.

"Salt," Dean informed them, snaking his good arm around my waist and moving me from his right side to his left as I finished patching him up. "Lots and lots of salt."