The wood splintered, shattering in every direction, the bookshelf now only a shamble of remains. Groaning, Henley clutched her stomach, leaning her head back against the wall. She'd bet every last penny she had that her ribs were bruised, if not broken. . .again. Just once Henley wished that when she was doing something important someone wouldn't try to murder her and everyone around her. Watching Ketch struggle to get up from across the room, Henley knew this would be her only chance. She groaned as she leaned on the wall for support, slowly hauling herself off the Bunker floor.
"Why can't you just die already?" she spit out, narrowing her eyes at Ketch as he stumbled to his feet, glaring daggers at her from across the library. He let out a scoff wiping the blood from his mouth as it slowly dribbled down his chin.
"Funny. . .I was thinking the same thing about you Winchesters."
"Trust me," she laughed, "we aren't going anywhere any time soon." Reaching her left hand behind her, Henley felt the hilt of her knife she had stashed in the belt loop of her pants. Grasping the handle, she whipped the knife out, flinging it across the room, watching as it soared quickly through the air, embedding in Ketch's shoulder. He let out a groan, a string of curses falling from his mouth as he sunk back to the floor. A satisfied smirk wormed its way upon her lips. That ought to keep him occupied for a while. Henley limped over to the table where Lady Bevel lay bleeding out in her chair, throat slit, and her father sat unconscious, still linked to Mary.
Henley winced, grasping onto the table for support, nonetheless sinking to the floor. Letting out a strangled gasp, she lifted up her shirt and looked down, biting her bottom lip out of frustration. Sweat emanated around her forehead, as her grip on the table faltered. Why the hell did her ribs have to be so damn fragile? Purple and green splotches adorned her stomach, the spots tender and becoming more swollen by the moment. She glanced up at her father, slowly making her way over to his chair on her knees. With trembling hands, she latched onto his bicep, shaking him roughly. "Come on, wake up dammit! Please, please wake up!" Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as her father remained motionless. Just as she was about to jostle Dean again, her entire body stiffened, as something hard and cold pressed against the back of her head. Shit. Groaning, Henley turned around slowly, coming face to chest with Ketch, the handgun now pressing against her temple. Gritting her teeth, she looked up at Ketch, glaring at the man who only smiled down at her in response.
"Ah ah kiddo. This fight is between you and me. Let's finish this." Grabbing Henley by her hair, Ketch dragged her backwards, across the wood floor, flinging her to the ground in front of him. "I should've finished you when I had the chance." Ketch aimed the gun at her head, and Henley knew she had to act fast if she wanted to live.
Thinking quickly, Henley lurched forward, grasping onto Ketch's legs, startling the man, as a shot rang out through the library. Henley didn't have a moment to think, and immediately sunk her teeth into his leg, biting down hard. Hearing Ketch's cry of pain brought a smile to Henley's face. As she removed her teeth from his calf, she sprung up right, Ketch swooping down to grab her. She darted around him, and hopped onto his back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. His nails began to dig into her arms, and as much as she wanted to let go, she knew she couldn't. She had to at least cause the horrid man to pass out. Squeezing tighter as Ketch clawed at her arms, Henley let go as she was abruptly slammed back into the cement wall. Sinking to the floor, she peered up at Ketch through her matted hair.
"Go on. If you're going to kill me just do it already." Henley ground her teeth, jaw clenching as she faced down the barrel of the gun. Ketch only chuckled in response, lowering the weapon.
"Oh, I'm not going to kill you kid." Henley stared up at the man in confusion, watching as he retreated backwards, making his way over to Dean. "I'm going to ruin you." Henley's eyes widened, as she scrambled to get up, her entire body screaming at her from even the slightest of movements. He can't kill Dean. He couldn't. She wouldn't let him. After her third failed attempt at standing, Henley realized she wasn't going to be able to get to her father. At least not upright anyway. Dragging herself across the floor using her forearms, she let out a small hiss, wincing every time she inched forward. "Now this," Ketch drawled, "this. . .is pathetic." Henley only grit her teeth in response, heaving her battered and broken body across the floor at a faster pace. At least this was stalling him, if anything. Her breathing became labored as each and every movement became more difficult. Where was her inhaler when she needed it? Refusing to stop, she continued on her trek, waiting with bated breath to hear that fateful gunshot that would send her entire world crashing down around her. A fate far worse than death.
Peeling her gaze from the floor, Henley looked up only to see Ketch yank the suction cups off Dean's head, causing the man to awaken, completely disoriented. Dean startled, staring at Mary, completely dazed, eyes blown wide in confusion and despair. Henley growled deep within her throat, moving even faster, causing her ribs to feel as if they were sandwiched by two pieces of rapid moving sandpaper. "Leave him alone!" Henley ground out, attempting to sound threatening. Though she realized it probably sounded more along the lines of pathetic, as a string of unceremonious coughs racked her body throughout her proclamation. As Henley continued her sluggish trek, she saw her dad look around, concerned eyes landing on her, then darting to Ketch, confusion instantly replacing the worry he held for her.
"No," Dean uttered, staring up at Ketch in surprise. The unscrupulous man simply smirked, leaning closer to Dean.
"Oh yes." Dean's confusion then morphed into pure rage, as he leapt out of his chair groping at Ketch in an attempt to either strangle him or bring him to the ground. Managing to pull herself onto her hands and knees, Henley watched in horror as Ketch launched Dean through one of the smaller bookcases.
"No!" Ketch turned at her outburst, sheer triumph written all over his face.
"Don't worry doll, I haven't forgotten about you." Shooting her a wink, he turned his attention back to Dean, who was grasping his busted knee tightly as he moaned from his position on the ground. "Oh what? Thought you'd get your mum back? Sorry, Dean. Not how this ends. This ends with me ending you. And then once your body has been battered and beaten beyond recognition. . .I think I'll finish that bitch over there once and for all." Henley let out an exhausted breath, quickly grasping one of the library chairs. White knuckling the chair Lady Bevel was previously sitting in, Henley hauled herself up into a standing position, leaning on the piece of furniture for support. She'd rather die than sit by and watch as this monster killed her father.
Henley watched with bated breath as Dean struggled to get up, moving slow, as his knee prevented him from standing properly. She could sense the anger and desperation rolling off of him, and she wished so badly that she was in better condition to fight. Scanning the area for her knife Ketch had ripped out of his shoulder, Henley's breath caught in her throat as he kicked the back of her father's injured knee as if he were about to punt a soccer ball. Henley's breath got lodged in her throat as Ketch quickly took advantage of his injury clocking Dean in the jaw, sending him to the ground again.
"I'm going to kill you," Dean panted, quickly getting back up.
"You won't, but I'd very much enjoy it if you tried." Henley felt as if someone had clamped their hand around her heart in a vice grip as her dad continued to get the shit knocked out of him by Ketch. Deciding enough was enough, Henley figured she had enough adrenaline coursing through her veins for one last attempt.
Quickly bending down to Lady Bevel, she searched the woman's blazer for a weapon; any weapon at all really. Hell, she'd be happy if the woman had a letter opener on her. Fingers grazing empty pockets, Henley huffed in frustration, turning around just in time to see her father suffer another hard blow to the face, careening backwards, landing on the hard wooden surface with a loud thud.
"You want to know what your mother said about you Dean? All those long days and even longer nights out on the road hunting." Ketch leaned down, grasping the front of Dean's shirt tightly, sneering at him. "Absolutely nothing." Henley winced, frustration flowing through her veins at not being able to do anything to help him as Ketch hauled Dean up off the floor, there faces only centimeters apart. "Now, this is fun."
Dean let out a harsh grunt, twisting Ketch's arm backwards and flipping him over, causing him to crash through one of the wooden bunker tables. Exhaustion taking over her body, Henley slumped to the ground, leaning back against the table Lady Bevell's corpse was currently underneath. She watched with lidded eyes as the fight continued to unfold, each man getting the shit knocked out of each other. Henley's eyes widened, relief flowing through her as Dean got the upper hand, knocking Ketch to the ground, struggling to breath.
Leaning on a chair for support, Dean scowled down at Ketch, wooden plank in one hand, ready to attack. "When you left us alone in the bunker, man, I knew you were psycho, but I didn't think you were stupid."
"I may be many things. . ." Ketch rasped, "but I'm not stupid." Henley choked on her own saliva as Ketch stood up, and the sound of a gun cocking hit her ears.
Looking around Ketch she saw Dean standing there, seemingly accepting his fate, and Henley squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't watch. She wouldn't. The sound of the gun shot going off caused her to let out a strangled sob, only opening her eyes when she heard her father's voice. Surly she must be going insane. As her breathing slowed down, she dared to look up, and what she saw shocked her more than figuring out monsters weren't make believe. Standing upright, a frown etched into her face was Mary, her arms outstretched, and gun pointed directly at Ketch, who was clutching his shoulder.
"Mary," Ketch gasped, sinking to the floor, gun slipping from his grasp. Exhaling sharply, Ketch looked down at his wound, as Dean walked around him, kicking the fallen gun out of his reach. Standing next to Mary, Dean shot a quick look back at Henley, to which she shot him a reassuring smile, and a thumbs up. "I always knew you were a killer. You both are."
"You're right," Dean said, as Mary fired the pistol, the bullet lodging in Ketch's brain. The sheer proximity caused the man to fly backwards, his corpse now sprawled out on the bunker floor. Henley let out a laugh of relief and Dean quickly turned around to face her, worry evident in his bright green eyes. Quickly walking over and kneeling down in front of her, she could tell he was struggling on what he should do, as his hands hovered over her.
"I'm fine dad. I just think my ribs might be broken again." Henley attempted to sit up, only to let out a hiss, and clutch her abdomen. Dean rested a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down.
"Don't try to move, alright kiddo." Dean licked his lips, quickly assessing the situation, before scooping her up in his arms, and setting her down in a chair, and propping her feet up on another one. "I'll be right back, okay. I'm going to go find something to wrap around your ribs." As Dean left the room, Henley looked up at her grandmother, who was standing next to Ketch's dead body, arms crossed over her chest, and a frown etched into her face as she stared down at the man.
"You alright, Mary?" Henley asked.
Mary looked up, startled, forcing a smile on her face. "I'm fine. Are you okay?" Henley nodded as Mary stepped over his body and made her way over to her.
"Yeah, I'll survive. Just a little banged up is all." Henley sent her a warm smile, and she watched as Mary began to pick up the place. Henley figured she felt guilty and that this was her way of atoning, or coping of some sort. Though Henley really didn't blame the women. She was brainwashed. None of what happened was her fault. The fault died when Ketch stopped breathing. Henley shook her head, as Dean waltzed back in, ace bandage in hand and a bottle of pills.
"Found some expired prescription painkillers, so. . .lucky me." Mary looked down at the floor, avoiding his gaze and continuing to clear up the mess. Dean let out a sigh, squatting down in front of Henley, shooting her a reassuring smile.
"Alright kid, take two of these, and then I'll bandage you up best I can." Henley nodded, quickly swallowing the pills dry, and rolling up her shirt, as Dean began to wrap the ace bandage around her middle. Once he was done, Dean let out a frustrated sigh. "That's the best I can do for now. I'll take you to a real doctor soon, okay?" Henley nodded, smiling at him reassuringly as he planted a kiss to her forehead, before turning around to face his mom. "Mom, you don't have to do that. It's not your job."
"This. . .all of this is because of me." Henley shook her head, sad to figure out she was right.
"It'll be okay."
"It's not okay." Mary inhaled and exhaled deeply, walking up to a distraught Dean. "Since I've been back, I know. . .I've been distant. Cold even. Leaving you, working with them. . .I was trying to make things right. Just from a distance, because. . .being here with you was too hard. Seeing what I'd done to you and Sam, I. . ."
"Mom" Dean interjected, "what you did, the deal. . .everything that's happened since, has made us who we are. And who we are? We kick ass. We save the world."
"And Sam?" Mary shook her head, letting out a breathy sigh. "I'm scared. What. . .what if he can't forgive me?"
Henley whipped her head around at the sound of her Uncle's voice from behind her.
"Mom. You don't have to be scared of me." Henley smiled, her heart filling with joy at the sight of Sam embracing his mom in a hug.
Dean clamped a hand on his brother's shoulder, a small smile of relief spreading across his face. "Glad you're back man." Henley smiled at the sight before her, bracing herself and standing up, putting her weight on the back of the chair. Making to walk over to the trio of Winchesters, Henley stumbled, expecting to hit the floor, when she felt Dean's hands wrap around her upper arm. "Whoa kid. Take it easy."
"Pfft. I wasn't going to miss out on this group hug. Now come on, let's join this chick flick moment." Dean smiled down at her, letting out a scoff. Biting his bottom lip, and looking up at his little brother, Dean wrapped an arm around Henley. Reciprocating Dean's actions, Henley wrapped her other arm around her Uncle, and buried her face in their chests, taking in the smell of them. Sweat, blood and everything in between, Henley breathed it in. Because this was the smell of people that have saved the world a countless number of times, the smell of a women who shaped the future of two of the greatest men on earth, and the smell of two men who she'd come to know and love. It was the smell of her family, and Henley knew now, in this moment, that no matter what life threw at them, they would be able to face it. Together.