Supernatural: Season One Dean Winchester Love story

Faith (2)

Faith (2)
Kylie's POV

I stared up at the motel room Sam and I were currently staying in, a mountain of research was covering mine and his bed.

I needed to get out, I needed air.

I had told Sam that we needed coffee, and I needed beer so I got both and now I was just sitting in the Impala wondering whether or not it was a good idea to go in.

The research wasn't going to get us anywhere, and unless John answered his damn phone we had nothing.

I did the stupid thing and tried again anyway, the phone pressed firmly against my ear as I reached back into one of the bags, grabbing a beer.

"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 866-907-3235."

I gritted my teeth as I waited for the beep. "Hey John, it's me Kylie. The one keeping your boys ass safe because you're too damn stubborn to be here." I swallowed angrily. "Dean is sick, the doctors say there's nothing they can do, but don't you worry John because I'll take care of it just like I always do." I brought the bottle to my lips, sipping. "Do me a favor John, if you can't be here that's fine but be a dad, no be a man, and call your son back because I can only take care of one Winchester man at a time." I hung up the phone, tossing to the side as I squeezed the wheel harder.

"Alright, I'm going to do it." I told myself before chugging my bottle of alcohol preparing for the pain.  "Alright you son of a bitch." I let as I closed my eyes tight, hoping to get that flash of light and put into the future, but instead I stayed in the Impala. "Come on!" I yelled at myself slamming my hand on the wheel. "I need to save Dean!" I glanced around the parking lot, my vision shaking slightly.

Missouri said that the visions were controlled by my emotions, the angrier I got the better the vision.

"Alright, I killed Dean." I let it out. "If I wasn't careful, if I didn't pay attention then he would be fine. It's my fault!" I yelled, slamming my hand on the wheel again, my head pounding. "I can't save him!" I raised my hand to punch the wheel again, but as I did, the wheel disappeared.

I wasn't in the car anymore . . .

I was running? 

Not from one but just jogging, I felt as if there was someone behind me, so I ran faster and faster until I stopped.

I turned looking behind me, looking but there was no one there.

"Hello?" I called in a now manly voice. I could feel my heart pound in my chest, but not from the running.

My chest hurt, my body cold despite the long jog. 

The pain in my chest radiated into my back and my left arm, it made me drop to my knees, my breath coming in pants, slowly becoming less and less, until my body had nothing left to give.

As I gasped breath I glanced up at an older man, who stood in a suit smiling creepily at me. 

I reached my hand out to him, wanting help until the darkness took over.

I coughed, hard.

I couldn't breathe as I was brought back to my own reality. I opened the door to the Impala, falling to my knees as I coughed up blood.

I wheezed as I looked up from my pile of blood before weakly getting to my feet.

What a waste of time, a waste of energy.

"I need to lay down." I told myself as I stumbled into the door of the Impala. 

I paused to take a breath steadying myself before reaching into the car to grab the beer and coffee.

I stumbled to the motel room, almost falling a few times, before I got to the door. I struggle for a minute trying to get my key before actually getting in.

"Are you drunk?" Sam asked as he put down his phone, tears in his eyes.

"No, I have a migraine." I told him giving him his coffee before sitting on the bed next to the pile of books. "Find anything?" 

"One of dad's friends said something about a specialist in Nebraska." Sam suggested.

I nodded, pulling out a beer and cracking it open. "Worth a shot. I can call him see if we can-"

I was interrupted by a knock at the door. I glanced at Sam who was already up and moving to the door.

"Sam." I sighed as he twisted the knob, opening the door was Dean, who looked worse than he did in the hospital.

"Dean." I went over to the door, hurrying to help him inside.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked as I led him to my bed.

"I checked myself out." Dean smiled at me.

"What, are you crazy?" Sam said before I could.

"Well, I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot." Dean glanced at me as I raised a brow. "They can't all look like you baby."

I rolled my eyes. "You know this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing? It's crap." I nodded as I helped him with his jacket. "I can see right through it."

"Yeah, whatever," He glanced behind me at Sam. "Dude, have you even slept? You look worse than me."

I noticed Dean's inability to look at me, to only give me quick glances almost as if he was afraid to look at me.

"I've been scouring the internet for the last three days. Calling every contact in Dad's journal." Sam explained.

"For what?" Dean groaned.

"For a way to help you. One of Dad's friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist." Sam went on while I ran my hands through Dean's wet hair, comforting him.

"You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you?" Dean asked us.

"I'm not gonna let you die, period. We're going.