Fear Itself

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, it was because an ungodly bright light was piercing through my eyelids and startled me awake. Whimpers immediately sounded from my mouth, but my eyes clenched shut as tears stung them. I shifted around in what felt like Dean’s arms: warm, big, and soft. He immediately pulled me closer, shifting to hide my face from the light as much as he possibly could, but he wasn’t very successful. “Muscles,” I whined.

“Sh, babe,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “I know. Just go back to sleep.” His voice shifted to a frustrated grumble when he demanded, “Dad, would you turn out the goddamn light?”

“I think we need to talk,” Landon stated simply. His voice was loud. My head started to ache again, and I couldn’t keep the tears from spilling out of my eyes.

“Not the time,” Dean hissed. “And would you lower you voice please? She’s got a concussion.”

“I’m not the cause’a that one, lad,” Landon huffed, his voice just a little softer but not enough. I sobbed quietly, and Dean pulled my head closer to him.

“Lights out,” Dean growled. “I mean it.” I didn’t think Landon faltered, not even a little, because there was a pause before Dean continued. “I would do it myself, but she needs me right now, so could you please not be a twat for five seconds?”

“Muscles, I don’t feel well,” I whimpered.

His voice softened again. “I know, love. I’m sorry.” He shifted a little, and a waft of air brushed over before he pulled a blanket over us, covering my head and up to his shoulder, blocking out most of the light, but the headache persisted. “My father’s being uncooperative and rude right now,” he commented. “Do you want me to go—“

“No,” I immediately protested, shooting an arm out to grab his shoulder. “Stay,” I pleaded. “Please, stay.”

“I came to apologize, I’ll have you know,” Landon muttered. I didn’t care what Landon was there to do. I wanted to get out of my room and let me sleep. I wanted him to leave me with Dean, where I was safe and calm, and nothing hurt because he took care of me. Landon was messing all of that up, but the more upset I got, the more my head throbbed.

“To my wife, I hope,” Dean snapped. “Whatever problem you have with me doesn’t concern her, and you’ve given her nothing but shit since you got here.”

“Yes,” Landon said. “I’m very sorry, Tali. I shouldn’t have kept your mother’s locket from you, and I’m sorry for causing unnecessary problems in your marriage.”

“That’s a start,” Dean scoffed. “Anything else you’ve got to say for yourself?”

“That I don’t think you two should be together,” he added rather succinctly. How dare he! No longer caring about my headache, I squirmed away from and shot up a little too quick; the room spun, and my head throbbed. My stomach churned, but I bit it back.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I scowled. “What gives you the right to tell us we aren’t fit for each other?” I shook my head a little. Dean put a hand to my shoulder, trying to coax me back down, but I didn’t care. “You’re just a nasty, bitter, old man who spent his life alone and can’t stand to see anybody else happy.”

“C’mon, babe,” Dean persisted, wrapping his arms around me and trying to pull me back. “Back to sleep, okay?”

“No,” I murmured, but my stomach was doing flips, and my throat burned. Cold sweat broke on my skin, and I closed my eyes. The ice pack slipped from my hand and onto the floor.

“Babe,” Dean addressed me, squeezing my shoulder. “Babe. Blondie, hey. You alright?” Somewhere in the next couple of seconds, he realized something because he snapped his fingers at Landon. “The least you could do is hand me the trash can,” he sighed.

Landon pulled the trashcan from beside my desk and handed it Dean. I heard it slide across the floor. Once Dean had it in his hand, his hand gripped my neck and turned my head just as I began retching into the thing. An awful combination of my last meal and stomach acid emptied into it, leaving a searing sting all along my throat and a bitter taste in my mouth. His hand slid to my back and gently rubbed up and down my spine. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re okay.”

Dean heaved a sighed and shook his head when I finished, placing the trashcan at the edge of the bed. “Can’t you see she’s not well?” He pulled me back against him, cradling my head to his chest as he scooped the ice pack off the ground. “Whatever you have to say to me can wait until she’s better.”

“That could be days,” Landon argued.

“And I’ll stay here as long as she needs me,” Dean countered. “Even if it’s days.”

“Can you please leave now?” I murmured as Dean pressed the ice pack over my swollen eye.

Landon opened his mouth to say something, but before he could make a sound, Avery’s rasp cut him off from the doorway. “Believe she asked you nicely, mate.” Landon barely had time to protest before Avery grabbed a fistful of fabric at the back of Landon’s neck and dragged him away. He flipped the light switch off on their way out, and the doorway slid shut again.

“You okay?” Dean inquired, running his hand through my hair. I nodded a little, barely moving because the idea of throwing up again had my stomach doing flips. The last thing I wanted was to throw up again. “Okay,” he said. I felt his lips press against my forehead. “You can back to sleep now, but I had to wake you up again in a half hour.” I nodded again.

The evening consisted of sleeping and waking up every half hour, something Dean told me was necessary to make sure I didn’t die in my sleep. Granted, I already felt like I was dying: waking up to headaches and vomiting, even in the dark, even in whispers. But with Dean there, sleep was easy. Sleep was nice, even, and nobody bothered us after that, not even Avery. Not Landon, nobody. It was right.