26. WILLOW

Every minute Dean’s gone, doubt starts to weave its way back into my mind. He’s been gone longer than he promised and I’ve no clue if he’s even alive. Every possible scenario plays out in my head and I’m starting to panic.

What am I supposed to do if he doesn’t come back?

My hand shakes as I take two painkillers at the bathroom sink. I’m still sore from how Dean took me before he left and it seems like no amount of hot baths will ease the ache. Then again, he did say he’d fuck me so hard I wouldn’t be able to forget. I can’t help but feel glad to have the reminder of how it feels to be owned by him.

If he doesn’t come back I will eventually forget. A world without Dean can’t happen. I need him here to make me feel good and tell me it’s okay when my emotions feel too much. I can’t fall back into that empty hole that I only recently came out of, but feeling nothing is better than feeling anything without him.

I just need…him.

Maybe I should take this as a sign to leave?

I’ve already decided that if I ever end up leaving here without Dean then I’ll just make myself disappear. I can’t go back to my dad’s and I could never tell anyone what Dean’s done. The thought of him being arrested leaves me feeling sick to my stomach.

I force myself downstairs to get something to eat and I tell myself that if he doesn’t come home tomorrow then I’ll just find a way out of here and quietly disappear.

Late into the night, the low rumble of a car engine wakes me up. With my heart in my throat, I sit up in bed and listen closer. A door closes with a dull thud and the weight I’ve been dragging around with me since Dean left disappears in an instant.

Dean’s finally home.

Grabbing a hoodie, I pull it on over my clothes and head to the door. But then I hesitate as an uneasy feeling creeps over my skin.

What if something happened to Dean and it’s not him downstairs?

Slowly, I turn the handle and poke my head out enough to listen for anyone but the house is silent.

“Dean?” I call out, when I reach the stairs. Something doesn’t feel right and it’s putting me on edge. I’m about to go back to the bedroom to hide when I hear the front door open followed by a heavy thud.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I head downstairs. The door”s wide open, letting the brisk night air in. As I step closer, I see a figure lying motionless on the floor.

“Dean?!” I cry out, forcing my body to move faster. “Dean?”

He’s lying on his front, his face turned to the side, his eyes shut and I can already see how pale he is from here. “No. Dean. You cannot die on me, you asshole,” I start to sob. As I roll him onto his back, he makes a small murmur.

“Oh, thank god. Dean, can you hear me?” I lean over him and listen to his heart, it’s beating faintly but at least it’s beating. I start to search his body for injuries and my hand touches something warm and wet on his side.

“You don’t get to die on me! Not after everything you’ve put me through. I refuse to let you go so open your eyes!” This needs to be some elaborate trick, a mind game to make me see how much I need him but the blood on my hands is all too real. If I don’t help him then this might actually be it.

I’m not ready to say goodbye to him.

I search his pocket for his phone and with a shaky hand, I hold it over his face to unlock it.

Who do I even call?

I lift his shirt to get a better look at the wound but there's so much blood I can’t see how big or how deep it is. As fast as I can, I pull off my hoodie and hold it firmly over the area.

If I call an ambulance the police will get involved but there must be someone he goes to when these things happen. I remember he mentioned a doctor before when I had to stitch him up.

Looking through his call history I see the most recent one was to Bones, the friend he was supposed to be with tonight. He seems to be the person he’s in contact with the most so I press call.

He answers on the third dial.

“Miss me already?” A smooth voice says that I can only assume belongs to Bones.

“Please, help me! Dean’s hurt. I think he’s been shot or stabbed, I’m not sure. He's not moving, I don’t know what to do!” I ramble out breathlessly.

There’s a short pause before Bones finally responds, “shit, okay. Does it look like the bullet’s gone straight through?”

“Umm, I’m not sure, I think so, it looks like it hit his side. There’s so much blood.”

“Okay, just keep pressure on it. I’ll call ahead to the hospital, you call for an ambulance, as soon as I hang up.”

“But the police,” I quickly say before he can end the call. “Won’t they—,”

“I’ll handle that, just take care of him.” Then he hangs up.

It feels like hours before the ambulance arrives. I don’t leave Dean’s side until I have to go open the gate with the keys from his pocket.

The paramedics gather around him and start asking me questions but I stand back unable to answer any of them. They exchange odd glances as they see the still fresh cuts on his stomach. Someone asks me what happened but all I find myself repeating is I don’t know.

I can’t take my eyes off Dean as they move him onto a stretcher and start wheeling him away. If they drive away with him I won’t know if he’s going to be okay. It’s not like they can just call me to let me know, I’m not even family.

I quickly say, “I’m coming with him, I’m his wife.”

No one objects as I climb into the back of the ambulance, I try to hold his hand but I’m told to sit out of the way so they can help him.

I sit there helplessly, begging him not to leave me.

I don’t have anyone else and I realize I don’t want anyone else. I’d give anything to be back in his bed with him, tied up or not. I don’t care, as long as he's with me forever.