Cowboys and Angels (A Dean Winchester/ Supernatural FanFiction)

Chapter 9: Stay

He growled seductively in protest, pushing me onto my back, holding my hands above me. I tried to pull them away, but his grip was strong. He leaned down to kiss me once more, but pain suddenly split through my back. I cried out, surprised. Dean sat back, pulling me up.

“You forgot about your wounds, didn’t you,” Dean asked, concern flashing in his eyes. I nodded. I had been too preoccupied with taking care of Cas and had completely forgotten about my back. The pain had slipped to the back of my mind, going unnoticed until now.

“I’ll be back,” Dean said turning and heading out the door at the back of the room again. I sighed, twisting around, attempting to get a better look at my wounds, but instantly regretting the movement as pain split through my upper body again. I gritted my teeth, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I hadn’t been in this much pain in awhile. My recklessness was going to end up killing me.

The door at the back of the room opened again a few minutes later. Dean came walking through the door again carrying a fit of whiskey, a needle, dental floss, and a washcloth—the equivalents of what I used to patch up Cas. I reached out, intending on taking them from him, but he held them out of my reach.

“Let me do it, please,” he said motioning for me to take my jacket off. I hesitated. That just happened to be one other thing I had forgotten to do. I had been so preoccupied with treating Cas I had forgotten to change clothes. Dean raised a mischievous eyebrow, smirking. I sighed, unzipping my jacket, deciding to make the best out of this.

Ever so slowly I slipped my jacket off, letting it slide down my upper body, gradually revealing my black, lacy bra, watching as lust lit up his bright green eyes. Letting my jacket fall to the floor on top of his, I slid up onto the table, turning my back to him, crossing my legs. He sat down in the chair I had previously occupied, examining my back.

“Oh Grayson, what are we going to do with you,” Dean said running a gentle hand across my back. It took me a second to realize that this time, that wasn’t a rhetorical question. He was actually asking me. I glanced back, gasping when I saw the two jagged vertical lines that ran across my shoulder blades, showing through the bloody mess, almost as if something had been there before, but had been torn away.

“These marks aren’t from glass,” Dean said pouring some of the whiskey onto the washcloth and dabbing at the gashes. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep from crying out.

“They’re jagged, glass usually cuts clean,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Meaning that they might be claw marks, but-”

“The Wendigo never got close enough to hurt you,” Dean finished. “Or, well-,” but the older brother stopped. I glanced back at him, but he averted his gaze, turning his attention back to my wounds.

“Dean,” I coaxed, looking back at him, my eyes narrowing. He sighed.

“When the Wendigo first tried to attack you, there was a bright flash of light. Even if it only lasted for a second, I could tell the light was coming from your body-- and it repelled the monster. It couldn’t get close enough to hurt you.” I paused, my eyes narrowing. I had forgotten about that episode. It had been brief—but the distinct pain in, well, my back, now that I think about it, was hard to forget.

“Any idea what happened?” I shook my head, somewhat bewildered.

“Not a clue—but I do know for sure that that light caused those wounds to appear.”

“How, then?” I shrugged, flinching, realized my bad decision too late as pain split through my back again. Dean cringed when I cried out.

“God dammit that hurts,” I growled clenching my fist, taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself down before continuing. “Anyway, I don’t know—it just makes more sense than anything else. There was this—this white hot pain that just ripped through my back—like the light was ripping my soul away from my body.”