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Protecting the Winchesters

Lost and Found

Stepping down from her stolen truck, Emily pocketed the keys before digging for five dollars in her over-sized sweatshirt pocket. The ends of the sleeves were fraying after so many years, but it still held the faint smell of him. And that was worth it. Just before she could turn the corner and reach the door of the breakfast nook, strong arms grabbed her from behind, one hand covering her mouth, muffling her screams for help. Her heart faltered as she was suddenly airborne – the strange man was flying. Remembering everything Dean had taught her, she fought it the whole flight, tempting the beast to just drop her and be rid of it’s burden; it would be a better death than whatever she was sure it had in store for her. Soon, the creature was carrying her through sewage tunnels to a small cage where several other women were being held. Seeing her chance, she attempted to escape as he reached for the cage door. When she pulled away from him, one of his long nails dug into her skin, and she cried out in pain. As he dropped her in the cage, she thumped painfully to her side, breath momentary stolen. As soon as the creature left, the girls flocked to her, seeing if she was okay.

“I’m fine – I’m fine!” she said, trying to push them away and pull herself up to a sitting position. Leaning against the wiring, she tore off a piece from the bottom of her shirt, tying it tightly around her wrist where the creature’s nail had buried into her flesh.

Softly, one of the girls spoke up. “You seem like you’ve done this before.”

Grunting, she nodded as she tied off the knot. “Special Agent Gennings. I’m not going to be much good to you in here, though.”

“All agents have trackers though, don’t they? Like, in their cellphones or something?” the girl asked.

Ripping another piece for her wrist, she lied easily, “I was off duty.”

They left her alone for a while as she wracked her brain for what species could possibly have taken her. One girl was sobbing quietly into another’s shoulder, mumbling all the things she would miss out on if they killed us; among her gibberish, Emily heard her say, “I’m gonna die a virgin. I had a boyfriend. We were gonna do it last night...”

“Wait,” she said quickly, remembering the gold bracelet the creature had around it’s wrist; she was grateful Dean’s necklace was tucked safely in her shirt. “Were any of you wearing something gold that they took?” The majority of them nodded. “This is an awkward question, but I need you to be honest, okay? How many of you are virgins?” All the girls tentatively raised their hands.

“What is it?” the outspoken girl asked. “Does he have a type and just…needs money?”

Emily thought this option would be better than the truth. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“What do we have here?” the man above her suddenly appeared as he opened the door to drop another girl in with them. “A hunter?” After the new girl had cowered into the corner with the others, he reached in to drag Emily out, nails digging into her shoulder; she couldn’t muffle the grunt that was wrenched from her gut as she was thrown to the grating. She had little time to collect herself as the dragon quickly sealed the door once again with his molten hand. “Do you know what we do to virgin hunters, little girl?” he hissed, crouching down to her level. She closed her eyes tightly as if she could close her ears, as the dragon’s breath made her hair stand on end and his threats turned her legs to jelly. “Did you hear that, girls?” he suddenly roared to the cowering women in the cage. “We’re going to make an example out of this one.”

A gasp was torn from her throat as he pulled her to her feet by her hair and roughly tied her wrists behind the metal railing with a piece of leather he seemed to procure out of thin air. “Listen, I can explain-OOF!”

Her breath was knocked from her once again as the dragon’s fist buried itself in her stomach; as she desperately gasped for air, a second blow hit her rib cage with a dull thump. After several more hits to her chest and abdomen, he finally let up as her hunched over form gasped for breath, body straining against its own arms as if attempting to rip them off. Spitting a mouthful of blood to the floor, she smiled slightly as she grinned up at him with blood-stained teeth and mumbled, “You wanna play rough, fine. That all you got…tough guy?”

The blow to her ribs was excruciating, and she was sure she heard a crack. Seeming to just arrive at the idea in that moment, his hand began to glow a molten orange. His movements suddenly ceased as muffled voices came from down the sewer pipe.

“Help!” a brazen girl from the cage immediately screamed. As the footsteps approached, the dragon was suddenly gone, his form streaking upward.

As the girl continued to call for help, two men suddenly emerged from the right sewer.

“Emily?!” came Sam’s roaring voice as his face immediately entered her view. “What the hell?”

“Sammy,” she began weakly only to be cut off.

“We’re gonna get you out, alright? Dean’s here and–”

“Sam, shut up. Listen to me,” she ordered, using what resolve she had left to attempt to speak clearly and quickly. “There are two dragons. You need a sword forged i–”

“I know, we’ve got one. Are you okay? Jesus, I can’t believe it’s you.”

She sighed, letting her head rest on his hand which had moved to the side of her face. “I’m fine, Sammy. Get them out.”

As she painfully lifted her head to find Dean’s eyes, her chest was suddenly very painful, right where her heart was, and she hadn’t been hit there. His face plainly showed all his emotions: pain, loss, but mostly surprise. Dean always had a façade, no matter who he was talking to – to have it shatter like this meant something.

Her focus was pulled from Dean as Sam moved to open the door of the cage; the girls became frantic, shoving each over to get closer to their freedom. As Sam was about to pop open the door, one of dragon grabbed him from behind, throwing him backwards, the crowbar clattering to the ground. Dean, knocked back to reality, grabbed the sword – no…half-sword?…whatever – and faced off the dragon. She could only watch helplessly as Sam dropped the sword, it’s hilt standing a foot below the metal grate; as the second dragon grabbed Dean, another pain shot through her chest. As she screamed his name, straining against the ties, his eyes flashed to meet hers, and something in him snapped as he pounded the dragon’s jaw, sending him to the ground. Just as it raised its molten hand toward Dean, Sam appeared seemingly out of nowhere and thrust the broken blade into its back, severing its spine. As the first flew off, Sam was immediately back to the cage, forcing the door open. As the girls began to climb out, Dean’s rough hands brushed against her wrist as he cut the leather strap. Adrenaline wearing off, her legs buckled, and she collapsed into his arms.

“This is too damn clique,” she muttered, looking up at him.

With unidentifiable emotions raging through his eyes, he only looked down at her as he quietly replied, “Yeah. I hate chick-flick moments.”

“You cut your hair…” she weakly accused.

A slight smile graced his lips as he said, “Yeah…it, uh…got to uncontrollable.”

Sammy called to Dean causing him to snap his head up, breaking eye contact. “I’ll bring the girls up. Meet me at the car.”

With a curt nod, Dean’s focus was back on her as he hoisted her legs into his arms to hold her bridal style. “Dean,” she immediately protested. “I’m fine – I can walk.”

“Not from what I just saw.”

“Let me try again.” At his resistance, she said firmly, using what strength she had left, “Put. Me. Down.” Sighing, he reluctantly placed her back on her feet, but refused to relinquish his hold on her arm. “See?” she smiled slightly; as she turned to look up at him, what happiness she had immediately faded. Dean’s eyes were glistening as he stared down at her – her Dean who never cried in front of another living soul. “Dean,” she whispered, hand moving up to gently touch his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I…” his voice faltered as his hand immediately covered hers, holding it against his face. “Em, I missed you. Is it really you?”

“I missed you too, Dean,” she mumbled as a tear suddenly rolled down her cheek. “Shit,” she immediately turned away to wipe her face dry.

Catching her wrist, he said sharply, emotions erased from his face, “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine, Dean,” she insisted; her claim, however, was invalidated when Dean lifted her off the floor once again causing a sharp pain to burst in her side. “We’re going…now.” As she clung to his neck and watched his determined gaze stare straight ahead, her vision began to fade as everything became fuzzy and darker. The last thing she heard was Dean’s voice desperately calling out to her as his gait quickened.

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