We're not calling it Babe 17/?

Aug 01, 2015 19:30

Chapter 17

Dean stopped thinking.

The cleaver was in his hand now. He'd no idea how that happened but it didn't matter.

Everything felt distant, as if Dean was watching himself through a red veil of blood. At the same time he'd never felt so alive, so there, before in his life.

The Mark was burning its way through his arm but it was a sweet agony, freeing.
For an eternity all he heard was screaming and the tearing of flesh. All he smelled was blood and fear. All he saw was red.

Old memories surfaced. He had forgotten how good it felt, how good he was at this.

The Mark whispered sweetly in his ear and Dean wanted to see the world burn.

At first Dean didn't know what brought him back. He would have liked to say that he'd pulled himself back from the edge but deep down he knew it wasn't true. The Mark was strong and each time it got harder to resist. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to resist any longer.

There was this noise again, piercing through his blood-fogged mind.

"Mac?" Dean asked, his voice only a hoarse whisper. He blinked.

He was kneeling in blood, most of it fresh but not his. The pagan gods where dead. One lay in the corner just like Brian had predicted, the other one lay in front of Dean with the stake still embedded deep in his chest. But that was not his only wound, far from it.

Dean had to force his cramped fingers to open but after a long second he let go of the cleaver.

"Mac." He repeated and scrambled forward on all fours to get to the pig. Mac was clearly injured and whimpering in pain but he was determined to get to Dean.

He was covered in blood and Dean couldn't tell what was Mac's and what not.

"Hey." Gently Dean put a hand under Mac's stomach and lifted him up, cradling him at his chest. "I got you."

Mac let out a pained noise but didn't try to get free. Dean took it as a good sign but he could already tell that Mac's injuries were too serious to deal with on their own.

"Sam." Dean shook his brother's shoulder. Sam had been out for how long? This wasn't good. "Sammy, wake up."

When Sam let out a groan, Dean let out a breath as well. Sam's eyelids fluttered and then he blinked up at him.

Sam made another noise which could have been "Dean" and his eyes locked with his brother's.

"Morning, sunshine." Dean forced his lips into a fake smile. The taste of brimstone still lingered in the back of his throat and he didn't dare to look too closely at the corpses he'd left behind.

Mac had gone quiet in his arm and Sam most likely had a concussion if not a broken skull. The day just got better and better.

"Dean?" This time the word came out clear.

"We need to leave." Dean urged, straining his ears. "Somebody might have heard us. And Mac needs a vet. Now."

That got Sam's attention. He jolted upright which he regretted instantly. With both hands he kept his head from exploding and Dean was surprised that he didn't threw up right then and there.

Sam just sat there for a moment longer, breathing through the nausea. Dean winced in sympathy, he knew that feeling.

Then Sam had his first look around.

"What happened?" He asked but that was a question Dean didn't even want to think about.

"Mac is hurt." He said instead and with his free hand he grabbed Sam's upper arm, forcing him up.

When they got out of the trailer, Dean expected people coming for them but the trailer park was dark and quiet.

They were lucky. Again. Dean tightened his hold on Mac.

By the time they reached the car Sam was almost steady on his legs again but he was in no condition to drive.

"Take him." Dean put Mac in Sam's lap where the pig just plopped to the side. His breathing was labored, his flank fluttering with every painful breath. Blood coated his whole body and even in the light of the car Dean couldn't tell what was Mac's and what wasn't. The shiny fresh spots were probably Mac's, though.

Sam used one of the shirts from Mac's nest to put pressure on the wound.

"Find the next vet clinic." Dean tossed his phone at Sam who almost dropped it but then fumbled with trembling fingers over the screen to get them an address.

Dean drove with a white knuckled grip on the wheel and the muscles in his jaw so tight that he felt his teeth grinding. He didn't dare to take his eyes off the street.

Behind his eyes images flashed. The gods, the cleaver, the blood. This time he welcomed it, it kept his mind off Mac.

"Left at the next intersection." Sam's voice came out strained and when Dean threw a glance at him he saw him squinting at the screen. The light of the phone gave him an unhealthy bluish color. Dean doubted it was all because of the phone. The thin layer of sweat on Sam's face wasn't a good sign either.

He should at least lay down and not blinding himself with a bright light. Which got even worse when Sam switched to the flashlight feature to check on Mac.

"What got him?" Sam asked when he had a closer look at the wound.

"Cleaver." Dean gritted his teeth.

Sam didn't say anything to that but Dean did hear him mumbling nonsense to Mac while he patted the pig's head.

When they finally reached the vet clinic, Dean thought it was closed. It was the middle of the night and the building lay dark in front of him.

He had Mac in his arms again, Sam followed them a bit slower and if Dean had thought about it he'd rather have Sam wait in the car than to haul his ass out here in his condition.

"Hey!" Dean banged at the door and pressed the emergency button right next to it. "Anybody there?"

Then, finally, the door opened.

There stood a woman who had been asleep a minute ago judging by her unruly hair and the pillow crease on her cheek.

But when her eyes fell on the bloody mess in Dean's arm she snapped awake.

"Down the corridor, last door on the left." She instructed and stepped aside to let Dean in. "Put it on the table."

Dean rushed forward while the doc questioned Sam. He didn't listen to Sam's answers but when the doc joined him at the table it was clear that she knew this wasn't a random pig they'd found or hit with their car. She knew Mac was theirs.

"Hey there, sweety." She said in a low tone while she scratched him with a gloved hand behind the ear. "We have to wash away the blood first. Then we'll see."

Dean was pretty sure that it was more meant for him than Mac but he hoped that if the pig knew what the doc was doing the whole procedure would be less stressful for him.

Dean took over the petting duty while she rinsed the blood out of the short fur. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Sam sitting down on a chair in the corner. He didn't say a word and Dean just hoped that there wasn't a trip to the ER due next.

"This is quite a cut." The doc said. Dean didn't even know her name. She wasn't wearing a name tag, not even a coat. Just some hastily thrown on jeans and a t-shirt. "A cleaver, you said?"

"Yeah, sick bastard just came after him." Dean tried to keep his voice low and even for Mac's sake but failed. The doc glanced up at him at that, somehow judging him, but went back to work without a word.

"He is lucky." She said which Sam commented with a snort. At least he hadn't past out over there. "The ribs stopped the blade and protected the organs. But I want to do some x-rays to see the damage on the ribs."

It was a long cut almost going from leg to leg on his side. The tip of the blade had hit near his shoulder where the cut was deep enough to see the bone but it was almost shallow over the soft side of Mac's belly.

If Mac had stood the other way around, he would have been gutted. But lucky him …

Dean sent out a silent "thank you" to any higher entity that felt like listening.

It was the middle of the night and the doc was alone in the clinic so Dean would assist her with the x-rays.

She kicked Sam out to crash in the waiting room while Dean washed the blood off his hands. He could only hope that the doc assumed it was all Mac's.

"You're not pregnant, aren't you?" She handed him a lead apron before she started with the pictures.

"No." Dean gave her a tight smile.

"He's going to be fine." She assured him and then focused on her work.

Dean followed her orders, holding Mac in this position and that, as gently as possible but he was still inflicting more pain on Mac.

"Shh, it's okay. Just a few second longer." Dean talked him through every bit and it seemed to actually help him.

"He trusts you." The doc observed.

Dean didn't know what to say to that. Their relationship was so much more than just a pet trusting its owner.

While they waited for the pictures she shaved the area around the cut and cleaned it properly.

"He is a wild animal." She said after a moment. "Not even native around here."

"I know." In his mind Dean was already making plans to bust Mac out of here if she decided to do the right thing. He liked her and she seemed to know what she was doing and if she managed to save Mac's life he would be forever grateful but he would never let her take Mac from him. The last thing he wanted to do was to point a gun at her but if that was what it took …

He was saved, for now, by the pictures.

She put them on the light screen and studied them for a moment. Dean stayed at the table, comforting Mac, and from this distance he couldn't make out the details.

"There are deep cuts in the ribs but nothing broken." She told him. "Those should heal by themselves."

Dean watched her while she put stitches in Mac's side who by now was blissfully sedated.

"Something for the pain." She shook the bottle before she handed it to Dean. "And antibiotics." Another bottle landed in his hand. He slipped the pill bottles in his pocket but raised an eyebrow at her.

"You just let me walk out of here with him?" He knew he should just grab his pig and his brother and leave but he needed to ask. "You haven't even ask if I have a permit for him."

"Look." She raked her fingers through her hair. "Usually I would make sure that everything is correct here. Not because of the law but for the animal. But with him?" She sighed, looking down on the dozing pig on the table, head snuggled into Dean's hand.

"I can't explain it." She shook her head, laughing quietly at herself. "It's just I have this feeling … I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid." Dean took her hand. "You're doing the right thing here. Mac is in good hands."

She locked eyes with him as if she was searching for the truth there and then she nodded.

"Thank you." Dean smiled at her. "What do I owe you?"

He listened to her instructions on how to a take care of the wound, as if he didn't know already, and left her a generous tip.

Then he went to look for his brother. He found him slumped down in one of the chairs in the waiting room.


Chapter 18

mark of cain, sam winchester, supernatural pet, dean winchester, season 10, bunker

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