THE SAVED AND THE SAVIORS

My Weakness I Feel I Must Finally Show

Bursting through the door, Sam set her down on the nearest bed before ordering Dean to grab medical supplies. Mentally apologizing to her, he ripped open her shirt to see the wound. The older brother instantly applied a wet towel to her gut, and, in return, received a groan of pain from Dakota. 

"Dakota!" Sam took her hand gingerly. "Hey, it's okay. We've got you, and you're going to be alright." Hot tears pricked at his sunflower blue-green eyes, and he looked away, unable to face hers

"Sammy, come on. You've gotta focus and help her, okay?" Dean comforted with an urgent tone. 

Sam nodded before helping tend to her wound, tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn't want to lose her, especially with all of these new emotions surfacing for her that he'd pushed away for so long.  Within a few minutes, the boys finished by wrapping a bandage around her torso. Wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his coat, Sam made eye contact with his brother, who gave him a sympathetic smile. But Dean's eyes showed just as much worry as Sam had. The tall brunette ran a hand through his hair and let out a ragged breath. 

 Dakota reached out and grabbed Sam's forearm, trying to get his attention. He looked and met her eyes. "Can you speak, Dakota?" He asked softly. 

Her chapped lips curved into her lopsided grin. "Ground control to Major Tom," she whispered.

Sam smiled as he rested his head on her shoulder, a small chuckle of relief, escaping his mouth. With Dean's help, she sat up and, without hesitation, Sam hugged her, careful not to touch her torso. Dakota held his head to her shoulder and gently rocked back and forth. "Shh, it's okay, Sam. I'm alright, just like you said I would be," she cooed into Sam's hair. 

As Dean put away the medical supplies, he smiled to himself. Seeing his younger brother happy is all he wants to see. Even though Dakota got hurt, the older brother mentally noted, she makes Sam a better person, and I know she has some real skills that will help us along the way. "Although," he muttered. "She reminds me of Boston. God, I miss her." Dean bit his lip at the thought of his old friend. 

Walking back to the pair, he saw Sam helping Dakota to her feet. She wobbled a bit but managed to start tottering toward the exit. Dean caught up with them, grabbing the duffel bag as they made their way to the Impala. Sam helped the redhead into the backseat before mentioning that they had to get rid of the body. 

"It's already taken care of," Dodger appeared suddenly, brushing her hands off. 

"Jesus Christ," Dean clutched his heart. "Will you clear your throat or something next time? You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Your heart is perfectly healthy. I do not see how I could induce such a thing." The angel cocked her head to the side curiously.

"Forget it," Dean closed the trunk. "You angels and your innocence, I swear," he muttered, clambering into the driver's seat. 

The grey-haired girl appeared in the passenger seat as he turned the key. "You seem to be longing for someone," she said in a melodious voice. 

"Me? Longing? Psh, no. I'm just getting over the panic of thinking Dakota was going to bleed out," Dean avoided her gaze. His heart panged at the thought of Dodger's eyes, always filled with affection whenever she looked at him. Clearing his throat, he reached for the radio. But a small and soft hand stopped him. 

"Dean," she whispered. "Please talk to me." 

He sighed and put his hand on the wheel, trying to ignore her. Her gaze stayed fixed on him the entire drive back, and although he paid full attention to the road, Dean could feel her eyes on him. The angel was waiting for his response and had no intention of giving up. When the group returned to the motel, Dean got out and went inside as quickly as he could while Sam and Dakota took their time. 

"Sam, I can walk a few feet to the motel," she chuckled.

"Are you sure?" 

"I'm already at the door," she walked inside laughing. Grabbing her sweatpants and tanktop from her bag, Dakota went into the bathroom and quickly got changed. She stepped out a few minutes later while wiping toothpaste off of her lip. She crawled into the bed nearest, not paying any attention that Sam was sitting under the covers, typing away at his computer. 

Dean sat on the side of his bed, an old polaroid in his hand. The picture showed three small kids, all three laughing heartily. The kid to the left was Dean, about 13 years old, and covered in soap. The boy to the right was Sam, eight years old at the time with bubbles on his cheek. And in the middle was a girl, about 15-year-old with a bucket of soap and water and her clothes soaked. 

Her neck-length blonde hair was bouncing with her joyous step. A birthmark on the left side of her hairline was visible. The birthmark faded into her hair, creating stripes of darker blonde. In the background was the Impala, covered in soapy water. 

"Dean?"

The apple-green eyed man looked to his left to see Dodger sitting next to him with a hand on his shoulder. She peered at the photo and pointed to the girl in the middle. "Is that who you were thinking about earlier?" Dodger asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, her name is Boston Singer, Bobby's daughter. She used to be our best friend as kids. In this picture, we were washing my dad's car." he smiled at the memory. "It was a hot summer day, and my dad's car was filthy. The three of us thought it'd be a good idea to clean it for him. But in the end, it turned into a bubble splashing war."

"What happened to her?"

"Well, after we got older, dad stopped taking us to Bobby's while he worked jobs, so we got to see her less and less. We drifted apart, and I haven't talked to her in..." his voice trailed away. "In years." 

"Then why don't you contact her?"

"Because I don't know where she is. I don't even know if she's still alive." 

"Don't think like that," Dodger placed her hand on his. "I'm sure if you visited Bobby, you could see her again."

Dean gave her a hopeful look. "Do you think so?"

Dodger's heart melted at his face. "I'm positive. But in the meantime, get some rest, Dean."

"Okay, mom," he joked.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled as he laid down. She disappeared, leaving a note on the other pillow. As Dean rolled over to get comfortable, he saw it and unfolded the small paper. 

'Just because you can't see me doesn't mean I can't tell if you're asleep or not. If you don't sleep, I'll use my, as you call it, "angel mojo"' ~Dodger 

Dean chuckled as he placed the note on the nightstand before clicking off the lamp.