Wow, I went back and checked when I actually first started this story...and it was December 2007...O_O I had NO clue it had been that long and even less of a clue as to why I never finished it until now when it was almost done when I sort of left and forgot about it. But regardless, here it is.
First off, this is NOT a romance fic. This is a sequel...sort of, you don't have to read the first "part" to understand the story. Awhile back I wrote the fic Savin' Me which told a story about a woman who was saved by Sam and Dean and it was retold in the first person from the woman's point of view. So this is a sequel in the sense that it is basically the same idea, but flipped around. I'm sure you can figure out from the title how it's "flipped" but if you can't, then I'll just shut up and let you read for yourself: )
This fanfic is rated F for some Fangirliness and situations of Fantasy...(Not the guttery kind, people. Sorry.)
Seclusion. I've always loved the luxery and feel of complete privacy; the rush you get knowing that you could walk outside stark naked and bust your best dance moves and not a soul would see you. Not that I am speaking from personal experience or anything; that would just be bananas.
That's the thing that I love about my little cottage. Nestled out in the country side of western Oregan, my house is the only one for a good 40 minutes in any direction, a single place of residence situated at the end of a long, mostly dirt road. Sure, it's risky. What if something happens? How would I get help? blah blah blah, I don't care. That house and that pure sense of independence is like crack to me. I bought it two years ago on my twenty-eighth birthday when I decided that people sucked and I no longer wanted to see them unless it was totally and completely necessary. Hermit? Spinster? Rogue? Maybe, but whatever. A nasty label is a small price to pay for complete peace of mind.
Anyway, to get to the point. Humans never come anywhere near my house or property. The only other company I ever have besides my red Daschund, Sienna, is the occasional coyote or bear that decides to casually stroll across my front lawn; I'd actually be more startled by a person standing at my door than a wolf. The point is no one ever comes out here.
It was the dead of winter of last year when I met the first person I had in awhile, and under the most bizarre circumstances I can recall throughout my entire life.
Snow blanketed the ground in a thick mass and more floated lazily from the darkened clouds of nine P.M. It was freezing outside and the fireplace in my living room didn't seem to want to heat up fast enough. I threw down my book, it was boring anyway, and tugged a wool blanket tighter around myself. I tried to keep my teeth from chattering as I stared into the dying coals of the fireplace, but they clicked restlessly as if feeling the need to remind me just how cold I was.
My eyes drifted to the beady ones I felt staring at me. Sienna was giving me a pointed look that I've seen few to no other dogs pull off with such human likeness. A little green sweater covered her shiny fur and she stared at me with an almost regal air as she sat on her extravagantly plush dog bed. I sighed.
"Fine, I'll go get more wood."
I rolled out of my chair, technically a loveseat, situated in front of the fire and tossed aside the blanket. Stalking to the door, I pulled a down winter coat on and zipped it all the way to my chin. Ugly rubber boots followed and hefty leather gloves (splinters are a complete bitch, and my stock of fire food always seems to have an unlimited supply of them). Readying myself for the cold, I opened the door and stepped out into the snow. It was absolutely freakin' freezing! And a little too dark for my taste. I flicked on the spot light before shutting the door behind me. The brilliantly bright bulb caused the snow to sparkle with diamond-like lustre. I trudged through the growing drifts surrounding me and headed back towards the towering stack of firewood at the rear of the house.
A twig snapped, drawing my attention only for a minute before becoming just another sound of the night. I had gotten somewhat used to the strange sounds of the forest, but I still believed in exercising caution and being aware of your surroundings at all times. Also, I still have minor issues with the dark hollowness that the gaps between the trees take on on cold winter nights.
Finally reaching the wood pile, I began to gather as many logs as I could carry in my arms. I have strong arms and though I often criticize the size of my biceps, which are unusually strong for a woman my size, I appreciate when they come in handy for lifting arm-fulls of much needed firewood.
Another twig snapped, pulling my mind back from its strange train of thought about my own arms. I straightened up and looked around me. I waited a few extra moments, listening for additional noise. Several seconds of complete silence satisfied me that it was just a small creature somewhere; perhaps a squirrel in a tree. I began to quietly sing one of my favorite Bad Company songs and went back to selecting logs.
The sound of Sienna's barking came muffled from the house, abruptly halting my mumbled lyrics. That was it, squirrel or no squirrel, I was starting to get a little freaked. Grabbing one last log, I moved to head back to the warmth of my house. Upon turning, it became clear what the catalyst of Sienna's barking had been. I froze, my legs ceasing movement and firmly refusing to do what they do best.
An intake of cold air sufficed as a gasp as it sucked in between my teeth. A creature stared out at me from the partial cover of darkness. Only half of its snarling face and its large paws were visible as they peeked out of the tree line. My heart beat hard against my ribs, as if trying to break me of my frozen spell of terror and warn me to run. The creature emerged fully from the trees and into the light cast only by the spot light I had turned on minutes before. It stared at me with eyes that looked like two small moons contained within its head; the orbs had the same luminous quality that cat's eyes get when light is shone on them. Its long teeth stuck out of its mouth at odd angles and came down to razor sharp points. There appeared to be no fur covering its enormous body -the creature stood over five feet tall at the shoulder- just pale skin so thin that every vein was visible and prominent. Air puffed out in clouds as it breathed audibly, each exhale was accompanied by a low, staccato growl.
Snow crunched beneath its clawed paws as it advanced two slow steps closer to me. The arm full of wood I was holding slipped from my grasp and I took two retreating steps back. As if excited by my fear, the creature threw its head back and let out a screeching roar. Upon finished the ear-piercing cry, the creature bounded towards me. My brain snapped on and ordered my legs into motion. I ran. I ran as fast as the deep snow allowed towards the door of my house. I could hear the creature behind me. It knew just as well as I did that it was gaining on me, and it barked triumphantly.
A cry of surprise ripped from me as I felt it push against my back with its large paw. I flew forward, hitting the ground and skidding a mark through the fresh snow. It was upon me before I had much chance to get up. The creature pushed me back to the ground and snagged my right boot in its powerful jaws. Desperate whimpers panted out in short bursts of breath as my hands grabbed for something, anything, that might hold me back from being dragged God knows where by this thing. It was pulling me into the forest, into the terrible dark of the trees. I cried out in terrified defeat and began to realize I might never see my little Sienna again.
A shot rang out. The beast dropped my booted foot and gave an infuriated cry. Three more shots went off, followed by a heavy thud and the sound of branches being crushed by what I could only assume was the beast's dead weight.
I remained face down, breathing a hollow spot in the snow, terrified to look up. There was complete silence for a few moments, only the barely audible patter of snow hitting dried leaves. Slow, halting footsteps crunched heavily through the snow and moved closer to where I was lying. I heard something drop down next to me and a hand gently touched my shaking shoulder. I violently twitched away from the touch and rolled onto my back, ready to defend myself.
"It's ok, it's ok. I'm not..." The man before me was pale-faced except for blood escaping from a cut on his left cheek and dirt decorating a good portion of his forehead. His breathing was raspy and shallow and when he spoke it was quiet and broken up; it was evident he was injured. He took a few deep breaths then finished his sentence."...Not gonna hurt ya."
Strange thing was, I believed him, trusted him.
"You...al-...right?" He wheezed out.
I slowly sat up and nodded after a moment. "Ye-yeah, I think so."
I noticed that he held his right arm tightly against his side and saw that the same hand was covered in blood. The man nodded slowly and swallowed; both actions looked like they took a lot of effort on his part.
The nearly whispered word had hardly passed over his lips when he slumped forward. Moving quickly, I grabbed the shoulders of the man's tattered jacket and stopped his fall. He sucked in a breath and tensed as I touched his right shoulder. I quickly drew back my hand; it was washed with a fresh smear of blood. I noticed for the first time the multiple, bloodied holes in jacket. I was surprised that I hadn't noticed sooner. Pushing aside the jacket, I found identical holes in his t-shirt, and I bet good money that those holes carried on through his skin as well. I pushed him back so he sat up a little more and I could get a better look at his face.
The man's eye lids were fluttering in obvious attempt to stay conscious. His head drooped and then drifted back up in a similar effort. He managed to get his eyes open and he looked up at me lazily.
"Is it...Is it dead?" He breathed out.
I looked back towards the woods where the creature had fallen. It was still there, exactly in the same place as before. I watched for it to breathe, but saw no rise of said action.
"I think so..." I gave it one more moment of observation and looked back at the man. "Yes, it's dead."
He sighed loudly and closed his eyes. A faint smile pulled at his lips.
"Fugly bastard." He whispered.
My puzzled though amused smile faded quickly as I noticed the patch of bloodied snow right next to the man. My eyes traveled up to where the blood dripped from the bottom of his jacket, then up farther to the torn fabric partially concealed by his right arm, still tightly held to his side. I touched the arm, he flinched and resisted.
"Let me look."
He reluctantly let me move his arm away. I gasped quietly. The right side of his jacket and the shirt beneath that were torn to shreds. Blood flowed freely from four gashes traveling diagonally from the upper right side of his chest around to his lower back. My hand trembled and dropped the fabric. "Oh my Go-...oh my God."
The man had begun shivering. Whether from the cold or shock, I didn't know, but I had the feeling that he would be beyond help very soon. My stupor-like gaze at the man's impressive wound was broken as he moaned softly and more of his weight was placed on my hands. I braced myself against the ground and put my arms around him.
"We need to get you inside. Can you walk?"
"Cold..." Was his only response.
"Yeah, don't feel too toasty myself. That's why we should get back inside."
I felt him nod against my shoulder and I prepared to stand us both up. The process was slow, stilted even more by the stifled groans of pain that he often let out. We finally made it back to the house. I opened the door and stumbled inside, almost falling over with the momentum of us both. Sienna pranced at our heals, barking incessantly, as I guided the man into the living room.
"Shh, Sienna! Sienna! Shut up, damnit!"
Sienna stopped her yapping. She continued to trail behind us though, hiding behind furniture and peeking out like some covert Dachshund spy. We trudged over to the fire and I fell heavily to one knee. Taking his arm from around my shoulders, I carefully lowered him to lay on the floor. His lips were tightly pressed together as a quiet grunt remained mostly in his throat. Standing up, my eyes darted around quickly. I spotted and grabbed the blanket I had previously been using and spread it over his shaking body before grabbing a pillow and easing it under his head. I noticed my hands and blinked in detached shock. They were covered in blood. I scrubbed them hastily over my coat then quickly removed the article of clothing.
I rushed about my house gathering the things I thought I'd need to help the man. I'd never had anyone's life in my hands before. It wasn't a good feeling, and my heart didn't like it much either. Having nothing other than basic first-aid knowledge and the help of too many visits to the cinema, I added a bottle of Grey Goose vodka -I had run out of rubbing alcohol- to my pile of mismatched items and returned to the man's side. My eyes desperately assessed him. His color had not improved, if anything he was even more pale, and his head lolled lazily to the side. I dispersed my armload next to him and leaned over him.
"Hey, hello? Uh..." I realized I did not know this stranger's identity. "What's your name?"
I gently took his face in my hands and turned his head towards me. His pained features seemed to relax at my touch and his eyelids fluttered a bit. "Hey stay with me, okay? What is your name?"
His eyes opened slowly and focused on me after a moment. I noticed for the first time that they were green. A beautiful, intense green that made my heart add a skip to its racing.
"Dean." He said finally.
I smiled at him, trying to put as much comfort into it as I could.
"Dean...Dean, I like it." I remembered that in the movies they always talked to the injured to keep them alert...alive. I took a pair of scissors from my gathered pile and carefully cut off Dean's shirt and jacket.
"I'm Christa. That's Sienna." I nodded at Sienna where she stood at Dean's feet, staring at him with seemed fascination.
Dean lifted his head slightly to look at the dog. Sienna's tail began to slowly wag and she sat down while she continued her staring. I smiled at Dean.
"She likes you. You're lucky, you're one of few. Back in L.A. she hated everybody."
Dean's head fell back and he ground his teeth together with a groan as I peeled away the shirt covering his bloodied side. I tossed his ruined clothing into the coals of the fire, ignoring the metallic smell that they wafted through the air as they went up in flames. I was finally able to get a clear look at his injuries. Multiple puncture wounds formed in a large half oval on his right shoulder. Upon checking, I found them on his back as well. I froze when I realized what had caused them.
"It bit you..." I breathed out quietly, surprise stealing my voice.
The bite went deep as far as I could tell, but the punctures were small enough to require no stitches. The wounds on his side, however, looked very deep and in serious need of stitches...and a lot of them. The four wounds looked near infection and still had refused to stop bleeding. I couldn't help the tears that pooled in my eyes as I looked down at Dean. It seemed strange, almost unfair or wrong, that a man of his stature could look so utterly helpless and small. My emotions did not go unnoticed. I felt something tug at my sleeve and I looked down to where it hung at my side. Dean's middle and index finger gently held the cuff of my sleeve. I looked up at him through my blurry eyes and he smiled weakly at me.
Ironic. He was the one severely injured and he's still the one offering the comfort. The gesture forced a waiting tear from my eye. I sniffed and smiled back. Nodding, I turned to the pile next to me. Dean's eyes had reduced to slits, but they still watched me carefully as I picked up the bottle of vodka and slowly unscrewed the cap. I took a deep breath and puffed it out.
"This is gonna hurt."
Dean swallowed hard and nodded weakly. I gave him an apologetic smile and poured the alcohol over the gashes on his side. His body jolted as the vodka splashed into the wounds and his back arched a little. A loud groan pushed harshly from his throat. He was obviously trying intensely hard not to scream; I was pretty sure that was for my benefit. I squeezed my eyes shut as Dean writhed before me. I grabbed a towel and pressed it gently over the wound, taking his right arm and placing it on top to hold it into place. Next was his shoulder. Bracing myself, I tipped the vodka over the bite marks. Dean couldn't hold back the choked gasp this time. His hand grasped desperately for something and finally found my hand. His hold was crushing, but I endured it and squeezed right back. I hadn't realized I had had my eyes closed again until Dean's grasp on my hand loosened a bit. He gave a little tug, bringing my attention back to him.
"Have you ever done this before?" He ground out through clenched teeth, his voice sounding like broken glass. I shook my head numbly, feeling somehow like I'd let him down by saying no. His eyes slid closed momentarily and he nodded. "Disinfect, clean, dress."
I nodded along with his simple instructions; they sounded simple enough anyway. "And call Sam."
I started to nod but stopped when I realized that I didn't know how to get a hold of this Sam person. Dean seemed to noticed my confusion.
"Phone...front left pocket."
I nodded vehemently and watched as his half-mast eyes tried to roll back. He breathed out a loud sigh and looked back up at me.
"F'I pass out...don't...ge'scared, alright?" His voice was hoarse and weak. I didn't like his request, not at all, but it did seem rather cruel for him to be awake while a needle was worked through his skin. I nodded again, starting to feel like a bobble-head doll, and suddenly got an idea. Real genius that I hadn't thought of it before.
I lifted his head off the pillow a bit and poured some vodka into his mouth. Dean swallowed it with a slight grimace and I eased him back. I poured a little more over his wounds, the alcohol appearing to not have such an intense impact on him this time, and continued to clean the wounds with a clean towel. Dean smiled softly, his eyes closed.
"Y're betr a'this than y'think."
His words slurred together and his voice was barely above a whisper. I taped the last spot of the gauze down on his shoulder and looked up at him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was infrequent. I frowned a bit, not sure I could promise him about the not getting scared part. I placed two fingers under his jaw. Nothing. My heart jumped in panic and I pressed my fingers harder. I felt it that time. Dean's heartbeat. It was soft and sluggish...fading. My face trembled a bit and I hastily wiped another tear from my cheek. I wasn't doing too well at all on the whole "poise under pressure" thing.
"Dean?" I just needed to confirm he was alive, that's all. At least for the time being. "Dean?"
His face remained motionless, his eyes still closed softly. I just wanted to know he was still with me somehow. I looked down. His hand still lay close to me. Feeling a little silly, I picked it up and gave it a gentle squeeze. I waited. A movement, a muscle twitch, anything. Just an indication that he wasn't-there! A light squeeze. I smiled and let out an unconsciously withheld breath. I brushed a thumb over his hand and put it down, getting back to patching him up.
I pride myself that I can say that the stitches weren't terrible, in fact they were even decent. Dean, thankfully, did not wake during the procedure. Nor for the rest of that night. He was still very pale by the time I had finished cleaning and dressing his wounds. I washed the dirt off of his face and neck as well as the blood of off his hands. When I finished, I sat quietly next to him, my back propped up against the couch, and let the evenings events fully wash over me. Dean had saved me. I felt tears spring to my eyes again. How had I somehow forgotten that significant detail? I hadn't thanked him. Hadn't thanked him for saving my life from whatever the hell that thing was and I suddenly feared that I might never get the chance. What kind of damsel in distress would I be if I didn't thank my knight in shining armor? I was beginning to worry about myself and fear that I had seen one too many romance flicks when I was startled by the sound of a rock song that I couldn't quite place. I blinked, recognizing that it was a cell phone ringtone and at the same time realizing that I had forgotten to call the person Dean had requested of me.
I located the black LG phone just where Dean had said it would be and looked at the screen: Sam. I smiled weakly at my own luck and slid open the phone.
"Dean? What the hell happened to 'meet me back here in thirty minutes'? I've been looking everywhere for you."
The man's voice was smooth and deep and laced with aggravation and intense worry. I was almost scared to be the one to have to explain why Dean hadn't met the thirty minute mark.
I realized I hadn't said anything yet.
"Oh um...hello." I said lamely. There was silence for a moment.
"Who is this?"
All aggravation had drained from the voice, leaving only apprehension.
"My name is Christa. I um...found this phone in Dean's pocket?"
A moment more of silence.
"Where is Dean?"
"Here's right here. He was hurt, I helped him." The words had barely left my mouth.
"Hurt?! When? How badly? Let me speak to him."
The words overlapped each other in a rush to all be heard at once. I decided to go with the last request and carefully leaned over to try to wake Dean. I placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder and gently shook him.
"Dean? Can you wake up for just a minute please?"
A line formed between Dean's eyebrows and his head turned slightly towards me, but his eyes remained closed.
"Mmm?...Smm?" Dean breathed out.
I heard a muffled "Dean?" from the phone still held in my other hand and I wondered how the hell Sam could have heard that.
"Sort of. He's on the phone, he wants to talk to you. Here." I held the phone up to Dean's ear.
"Smmy?" Dean slurred into the phone, and I couldn't help a knowing smiles. They had to be brothers. And I'd bet good money that this "Sammy" was the youngest. Dean seemed to relax after a moment, the pained lines on his face less evident. He nodded. "M'fine. Yeah. Mmmhmm. I will." Dean lifted glassy eyes to me. "H'wants talk t'ya." The words made me nervous. Like I used to feel when I was told to report to the principle's office at school or when I would get myself into enough trouble to be called Christa Amelia by my mother.
"Christa again." I said after lifting the phone back to my ear.
"Where do you live?" It was clear Sam wasn't one to exchange formalities in a situation such as this, so I did not waste any time giving him directions to my house. There was silence on the line for a few minutes then something that sounded like a growl. "Damnit. It'll take me about forty minutes to get there." I realized that apologizing for the secluded roads and rough terrain was pointless. I heard the sound of an engine turning over and a weary sigh. "How's he doing?"
"I don't-..." I looked down at Dean. He looked about the same. Eyes closed, breathing shallow, perhaps a bit paler. "Not too good."
"Son of a bitch."
"But I'm not a doctor." I added quickly. "And...h-he seems to be a fighter."
A soft snort.
"You have no idea."
Roughly thirty minutes later, Sienna started to yip again and I quickly realized it was at the sound of a car coming up the long, winding drive leading to my house. Headlights shone into the living room and reflected through the window to shadow the shape of the cross section that separated the panes of glass onto the wall. I had returned to Dean's side, as Sam had requested, after I got off the phone. Not too long after that, Dean's face had become flushed and sweat started to form on his forehead. My hand only got half way to feel for a temperature before my question was answered by the heat radiating off of Dean.
I was relieved when Sam finally showed up. Intuition and a little applied logic made me suspect that he would be a whole lot better at this whole first aid thing; perhaps even be able to pull off the whole "don't freak out" thing as well.
"Help is almost here, Dean. Just hold on." I said softly, leaning forward so he might hear me better. I realized I still never thanked him and it occurred to me that this could be my last chance. I reached up and gently brushed the short gatherings of hair away from his forehead where the sweat had caused the hairs to stick. "Dean?" I wanted to know that he would hear me. "Could you open your eyes for a minute?"
A quiet, throaty groan was my only reply, but after a few moments, Dean's eyelashes fluttered and parted just enough for me to see the piercing green that hid underneath them. I felt a smile form automatically on my lips just from the effect his gaze had on me.
"I just wanted to thank you." I said quietly, gently smoothing his damp hair back away from his forehead. "I'd be God knows where right now if it wasn't for you...You saved my life." The eyes closed momentarily in a long blink, and I knew that was the best "You're welcome" Dean could muster at the moment. In a sudden bout of inspiration that I blame fully on going to the cinema one too many times, I leaned down and kissed Dean's feverishly warm, full lips. I felt him return the gesture ever so slightly before I pulled away and thanked him once more.
Sienna suddenly hopped up from her curled position between Dean's boots and galloped towards the door, her nails making a skittering sound against the hardwood. Outside, a car door squeaked shut and a moment later a heavy knock rattled my door. I quickly got to my feet and ran to the door. I opened it and was taken completely off guard when I had to literally look up to see the man's face. Sam's appearance matched his voice with complete impeccability: powerful, intense, and not to be messed with. His hair was longer than Dean's, and darker, and it fell across in forehead in dark wisps of bangs. His face was clearly chiseled from the same block of marble as Dean's, but instead of mossy green, soulful sea-green looked down at me. A part of my brain acknowledged the lack of commotion issuing from Sienna's mouth; I realize now she must have been as floored as I was.
"Where is he?" Sam asked, before I could even manage to pick my jaw up off the floor. I blinked and gave myself a little shake.
"Oh! Sorry. He's in the living room." I stepped aside and Sam was past me and halfway into the house in three, long strides. I pushed the door closed and hurried after him. I saw his stride slow as he rounded the sofa that obscured Dean's recumbent position and the intense expression that had greeted me at the door instantly softened. Sam swallowed hard and immediately went to kneel next to Dean.
"Damnit." I heard him breathe out. I stayed standing behind the sofa, suddenly feeling very out of place in that moment as Sam reached up and placed a large hand on Dean's forehead. The touch pulled an immediate reaction from Dean. He turned his head into the touch, his lips parting a little.
"Yeah, Dean. Right here."
I felt like I should lurk in another room or something, but I couldn't not watch these two men interact. The strength of the bond they shared was fully revealed in a matter of exactly five words.
"Gah, you're burning up." Sam commented before taking his hand off of Dean's forehead and folding down the blanket to examine the wounds.
"S'a nice chnge fm b'ing cold." Dean mumbled, a shaky smile dying quickly on his lips. Sam stilled as he lifted the bandage I had put over Dean's stitches. After a few moments he dropped the dressing and quickly moved to Dean's shoulder, pulling back the bandages there too. He sucked in a sharp breath. The young man's ensuing silence suddenly made me uneasy. I watched nervously as the muscles in his jaw rippled and clenched tightly.
"Is it dead?" Sam said in a low, deadly voice. Dean nodded weakly. Sam mirrored the movement, his jaw relaxing just a little. "Good." He growled, and I suddenly felt very sorry for the fool whoever messed with Dean, past or future.
"Sav'd th'girl." Dean said quietly, bringing Sam's eyes up to me. I felt myself relax when his expression softened and he sized me up quickly.
"You alright?" I could only manage a quick smile and a curt, zealous nod. Sam nodded too, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Did you do this?" Sam moved his head to the side, indicating Dean's bandages.
"Yes." I said coyly, looking down and picking at a fraying seam of the couch.
"Thank you." The tone in his voice was so childlike that I had to look up to make sure the same man who had been so intimidating just moments before was still the one speaking to me. As my eyes lifted back up to Sam, the first, rather whimsical, thought that came to mind was that he had before been under the influence of the same cake that Alice had eaten to make her grow tall and while I was not looking he had taken a drink from the bottle that caused him to shrink. That explanation seemed like the only one that could account for just how he could go from being so impressive to looking so very small in just under ten seconds.
I smiled at him and nodded.
"I did what I could."
"You saved his life." The amount of gratitude in Sam's voice was disconcertingly humbling.
"Guess I don't have to worry about the whole 'eternal debt' thing then, huh?" I said, chuckling nervously. Sam smiled softly at me and I felt a warm, fuzzy sensation inside over the dimples that were revealed with the movement. I wasn't sure why I was so curious to prove my theory right, but I had to ask. "Is he your brother?" Sam's smile turned a bit sad and he nodded.
"Stubborn, reckless, older brother." I chuckled appreciatively, oddly pleased that I had guessed right.
"I knew you were the baby." Sam's smile warmed again and he hung his head, a slight flush coloring his moment ended when Sam looked back down at his brother, the dimples instantly retreating along with his smile.
"I need to get him to a hospital." He looked back up at me, the Sam that had originally walked in my door instantly returning. "How far is the closest one?"
My brain worked quickly to recall the right answer.
"There's a clinic about forty-five minutes away. It's kinda small, but all the other facilities are in the bigger cities."
"Damnit." Sam looked quickly away from me again when Dean's fingers gripped at the elbow of his jacket. "That'll have to do."
Obviously done wasting time, Sam pivoted around to crouch by Dean's left and uninjured shoulder. He spoke softly to his brother, and though I could not make out the words, I saw Dean nod weakly.
"Can I do anything?" I asked, stepping around the couch. Sam threw a quick glance over at me.
"I'll need some help with the door and getting him in the car."
Sam had draped Dean's arm over his shoulder and he carefully hauled him to his feet a moment later. I bit my lip in intense sympathy at the groan that pushed past Dean's lips and the pained look on both brothers' faces. I snagged the fallen blanket off the floor as Sam readjusted his hold, then quickly scurried back to open the door as he and Dean made careful progress across the room.
The snow proved slightly problematic, but Sam managed to maneuver them both through it and over to the large, black -and I might add, very, very nice- car. I immediately went to the opposite door that Sam opened and leaned in to help him transfer Dean onto the leather seat. Once he was situated, I handed Sam the blanket, which he draped over Dean, gently smoothing creases and tucking in any gaps. I whispered one last thank you in Dean's ear before standing and closing the door. Sam did the same a moment later and jogged quickly around to the driver's side of the car, his steps making soft crunching sounds in the almost fresh snow. I turned to look up at him as he approached and stopped in front of me. We stood for a few awkward seconds before I remembered that I still had Dean's cell phone in my back pocket. I retrieved it and held it out for Sam to take.
"Oh! Wait..." I said, drawing the phone back from Sam's large, outstretched hand. "I know you're in a hurry but uh..." I quickly called my own cell phone number, let it connect, then ended the call. "My number will be under the recent calls list now." I handed the phone back to Sam and smiled a little. "Call to let me know he's okay?"
Sam nodded curtly.
"Of course. And again..." He blew out a foggy breath and looked down at his brother through the car window before returning his attention to me. His eyes shown with genuine gratefulness as they gazed down at me. "Thank you for what you did."
I smiled and nodded my head slowly, my eyes welling unexpectedly. I stepped to the side and jerked my head towards the car.
"Go on, now."
Sam gently squeezed my arm as he passed by. The car door squeaked loudly as he opened it and dropped into the seat. He threw me a quick, dimpled smile over his shoulder before closing the door. I back-stepped away as the engine growled to life, taking one last look at my fallen hero in the back seat. The car backed up a few feet before pulling forward and rolling away in the same tread marks it had made upon its arrival. I stood in the snow, arms wrapped tightly around myself, and watched as the car disappeared into the dark and until the headlights were out of sight.
I blinked. Had that all really just happened? In just over three hours I had gone from minding my own business, really having no one else's to mind, to being attacked by...damn I really should have asked one of them what that had been. To being saved, to having someone's life in my hands, to minding my own business again. Though now, for reasons I really can't explain, seeing as I had met one about three hours ago and the other ten minutes ago, I had the strange feeling that I was really going to miss those two brothers that had so strangely found their way into my life.
I looked down to find Sienna, standing in a small trench made by her little body, the snow line almost clear over her head, also looking in the same direction I had just been. I pulled in a deep breath of freezing air and looked in the direction where I knew, or God I hoped, the creature still lay dead in the snow.
"I require a very large, very alcoholic beverage." I said, looking back down at Sienna. Sienna's collar jingled softly as she craned her neck to look up at me, her ears flopping back against her head. "You get milkbones." Bending down and retrieving Sienna from the frozen ground, I turned and followed the small path she had made in the snow back to the door.
After retrieving the wood that I had forgotten about completely and adding a few logs to the fire, I sat with my bottle of Grey Goose vodka that I'd gathered from the pile of supplies littering the floor in my living room and stared into the fire until the coals died down to warm, glowing embers. I lost track of exactly how long I sat there, but by the time my phone rang, orange and pink had started to color the horizon. True to his word, it was Sam. He informed me that Dean would be fine. There was a minor infection in the bite marks on his shoulder which had spurred a decent fever, but it had been properly treated and with a few days of bed rest and antibiotics he would be good as new.
I did ask what it was that had done that to Dean in the first place, to which I got an answer of complete silence. A second inquiry provided me with an answer that caused a bout of complete silence on my end of the line. After a patient and detailed explanation from Sam, I was able to understand more about the Adlet that had attacked me and Dean. After saying goodbye and hanging up the phone, I got the distinct feeling that something this bizarre was not very foreign to Sam.
Not a day has gone by since then that I have not thought about that night, about Dean, and about Sam. At first, I considered moving. Not back to L.A., but perhaps somewhere a little more populated than Nowhere, Oregon. But then I realized...I had survived being attacked by an Inuit creature that was a cross-breed of a woman and a dog -that's right, I did the research. Not that I didn't have significant help, but I figured if I could live through something like that, nothing else the wilderness could dish out would scare me...that and I decided to keep my Granddaddy's old 45, loaded with silver rounds on a tip from Sam, in the utensil drawer in my kitchen, right between the spoons and the meat cleaver.
Still, the irony of my meeting with Sam and Dean still strikes me. For, as I've said, no human being besides myself had set foot on my property since I'd bought my house, yet the two that did that night were perhaps the most interesting, mysterious, selfless, bizarre, and, above all, unforgettable men I've ever encountered in my entire life. I moved away from civilization because of the lacking of goodness in humanity, and in doing so, I found exactly the quality of person that this world needs more of. Or rather, that person found me...and he saved my life.
-That Is All-
A few more notes
I really had a lot of fun writing this story. It wasn't written in my usual style, and that was a fun experiment to try. It's practically useless, but the Voices made me do it; )
Soo...Ya'll likey? Did'ya like Christa? The Story? Something else? Nothing else?
PLEASE LET ME KNOW! Cause this isn't the norm for me and I wanna know how it turned it.
Reviews are like getting a confirmed 5th season of Supernatural...and I am THE WHOLE FREAKIN' FANDOM YAYAYAYAYAY!:D