Bound: A Supernatural Story ✔️

TWELVE

The night was long.

It was filled with the sounds of Holly's heavy breathing. She sighed, twitched and groaned under Dean's hand, which he had lain on her arm to help her fall asleep. His eyes kept roaming back to her face, her fluttering eyelids and the way her lips puckered with silent words as she dreamt. 

Dean's hand slipped to the bandage he had placed on Holly's bleeding gash. He lifted it up a bit. The wound was turning black, almost, and the skin around it was red and puffy.

"Sam?" he whispered loudly. "Come here."

His brother appeared in the doorway. "Is Holly okay?"

Dean could see that look in Sam's gaze. He ignored it.

Sitting up, he leaned against Holly's headboard. "No, look at her arm. It's infected." He looked up at Sam. "You think he could have injected something into her?"

Sam bent closer, breathing softly. "It could explain why she passed out so quickly last night."

"Yeah, she was out of it," Dean replied. His eyes roamed back to Holly's peaceful sleeping face.

"I'd clean it up now, but I don't want to risk waking her," Sam said, collapsing tiredly on Holly's desk chair.

"What if she doesn't wake up?" 

"Dean, she's fine. Look at her. She's tough, and even if things go wrong you'll be there to give her strength." Sam scratched his nose, and yawned. "I'm ridiculously tired. Mind if I crash?"

"No, yeah, go ahead," Dean murmured, leaning his head back."You're doing the food run in the morning, though. I don't even want Holly going outside."

"I know, Dean, but she's our best chance at killing this thing. Trust me, I don't want her to be bait. We can work something out." 

There it was again, that tiny tugging inside of his chest. It was such an alien feeling to Dean, and he hated it. He scratched that area, but it still wasn't going away. He grumbled.

Sam took a last look at Holly's sleeping face, and Dean caught a glimpse of that look again, the one that he always got when they worked a case with a girl. That I'll take care of you look. Dean grit his teeth.

Sam stepped out of the room, closing the door softly.

Dean wanted to get up and stretch, but he couldn't leave. Holly twitched in her sleep again.

"Vail..." she murmured, twisting her head, her breathing growing heavier. "Don't..."

She stopped, and the room was silent.

Dean folded his arms over his chest, staring at the ceiling. The witch could draw. There were many random sketches posted all over the wall, mostly black and white. He could see one by her door, one with two figures walking in the distance — one taller than the other.

Was that Sammy and me?

She must have known they were coming, and that's why she had been so terrified of them.

Holly shuddered again and one of her sketches flew off of the wall, dropping to the floor. It slid into Dean's vision, and he sat up to get a better look at it.

It was a very well-done sketch of him; right down to the colour of his eyes. It creeped him out a bit. He looked from the drawing to Holly's face, which was frowning, her thick brows furrowing. 

Another picture flew to the floor. It was one of Sam. The two drawings lay next to each other in perfect symmetry.

He felt the urge to get off the bed.