Fear Itself

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Shane?” I snarled as I stormed out of my office and into the main room. The broadcast was supposed to air at 5:00 PM sharp. It was only 4:45 PM, and Dean still hadn’t come back from work yet. He was still there, due to be there until 5 o’clock, and everything was supposed to run on a tight schedule so that nothing bad could happen. “You’re fifteen minutes early!”

“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered, eyes wide with fright. “My clock must be off, I just—“

“No shit!” I shouted. With a breathy groan, I turned around and paced back toward Avery’s room, grinding my teeth and murmuring, “Knew the bastard would jump the gun. Should’ve just done it myself, goddammit.”

Behind me, a door slid open. Sam’s familiar stutter reverberated from the walls. “What j-just happened?”

With a huff, I stopped and turned for just a moment. Before Shane could murmur out an excuse I frustratedly explained, “Somehow, Shane’s watch is an entire fifteen minutes off, so he’s just put people in danger. But hey, fifteen minutes doesn’t make a difference, right?” My biting sarcasm had Shane dropping his head against the control panel’s surface. If I wasn’t more concerned with my husband’s life, I might’ve felt bad.

Sam heaved a bothered sigh and rolled his eyes. “Somebody call Dean.”

“On it,” I shouted as I made my exit into Avery’s room, taking no time for formalities as I swiped the phone off the desk, told him I was borrowing it, and left for the privacy of my own room.

Once behind the doors, my composure started to slip. I gripped the phone tightly in my hand, but tremors rattled my arm as I tried to keep it steady long enough to press the call button. My hand grasped the phone so tightly my knuckles were noticeably placid, almost purely white. I licked my lips as the phone began to ring. “Come on,” I muttered. “C’mon, babe, pick up the phone. Come on.” I wiped a few beads of sweat from my head, but I didn’t feel any less dizzy. I held my breath as I waited, waited for the ringing to stop, for Dean to answer and give me a sign that he was alive.

There was a click, then a, “Hello?” My heart nearly jumped out of my throat. I’d never been so excited to hear a phone call connect before.

“Hi, babe. Sorry to rush—no time to talk,” I rambled. “You’ve gotta get out of there right now, babe, d’you hear me? Right now. Drop whatever you’re doing—it doesn’t matter, just go.”

“Blondie, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he chuckled. “Everything’s fine. Just calm down.”

“I’m not gonna calm down, Muscles!” I exclaimed, now frantic. My chest constricted, tightening my shoulders. My stomach was stiff and frozen as I began to shake again. “Shane fucked up! He played the broadcast too early, you need to go!”

“He what?” Dean asked, but his voice stopped abruptly to give way to the sound of rapid gunfire. He swore under his breath; I could hear his chest heaving for air. There was noise, lots of noise, lots of guns.

“Dean—“ I whined, but he didn’t let me finish.

“Gotta go, Blondie,” he rushed. A crash sounded over the phone, then more guns. “Love you.” A click. He was gone. He hung up on me. That was it.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me!” I shouted into the receiver, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me anymore. “You bastard!” The doors slid open again, but I glared at the person standing there until I realized who it was.

“I can hear you through the walls,” Gabe told me with a smile and a softened face. He stood rather relaxed in my doorway, watching me. A laugh slipped from his mouth. “Pretty impressive, considerin’ they’re supposedly sound-proof.”

A tingling sensation swept up my spine and over my face. Oh God, he’d heard me. Nobody was supposed to hear that, but I was distraught enough to scream straight through the noise-canceling panels in the walls. “Nobody was supposed to hear that,” I mumbled. This couldn’t be happening. I must have been imagining things. Yet he strode right on in and sat down on my bed, just as real as ever.

“C’mon,” he beckoned, patting beside him on the mattress. “Take a seat.” I hesitated. I looked at bed, and he laughed again. “Sit down,” he requested, a little more forcefully now. Again, I stood still. Clearly sick of asking, an amused smirk flickered across his face. He reached out, grabbed my hand, and forced me to sit. “Good.” He grinned. “Don’t that feel better, now?”

“Not really,” I huffed, slumping over and resting my elbows on my knees. I raked my hands through my hair and drew a shaky breath.

“What’s goin’ on? What’s botherin’ you?” he asked softly. “And don’t say it’s nothin’. People don’t yell over nothin’.”

Something about Gabe’s voice made me want to answer him. The soothing tone made me want to just come and tell him my entire life story, just spill all of my problems to him like they were no big deal. But I couldn’t. I had no room to complain. I wasn’t the only one here going through a rough time. Chandler had just died, and people were in shambles. Who was I to lay more problems on them? “Can’t say,” I murmured. I wanted to say. Quite badly, really. Couldn’t though. It wasn’t the time.

“‘Course you can.”

“Can’t,” I insisted.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause it’s stupid,” I sniffed.

“No such thing,” Gabe contended, shaking his head and sitting up straight. “Your problems are just as important as anyone else’s, love. Now, you wanna tell me what’s really goin’ on?” Yes, I did. “You can tell me.” No, I couldn’t. Barely knew him. “You can trust me.”

Well, that seemed convincing enough. “I’m terrified that Dean’s going to get himself I killed,” I blurted out. I turned my head from him and bit my lip. “I don’t think he’s worried about his own life. I think he’s just gonna run headfirst into danger without a second thought, and I’m terrified I’m gonna lose him.” Ever since Chandler died, there’d been a change in Dean. I knew he was angry, knew he had a temper, knew that he had a hard time controlling it. Never had I seen him meticulously plan to slaughter hundreds of people.

“Of course, he cares,” Gabe tried to reassure me. He put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged him off.

“You don’t know!” I protested. My eyes burned under the heat of my eyelids and began to sting with tears. “He’s never cared. Not once has he ever cared about himself. He’s been throwing himself into chaos for almost ten years, Gabe. Death is just part of the job. He acts like it doesn’t matter, like it’s just a possible outcome. And to him, if it happens, it happens, and that’s it, that’s always how it’s been for him—“

“Yeah, maybe that’s ‘ow it’s been,” Gabe interjected and shrugged his shoulders, clasping his hands together in his lap. “Not ‘ow it is, now, though.”

And how did he know? I scoffed. “Yeah, right,” I laughed half-heartedly.

“No, he’s told me,” Gabe said with a nod. “Told me plenty of times ‘ow you changed everything.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” I chuckled, wiping at my eyes.

“Promise. He’s said it. You’re the best thing that’s ever ‘appened to him.” A soft smile crossed his face again. “Chandler told me all about you two, you know. Told me all about Dean’s track record and ‘ow he spent months tryin’ to push you two together ‘cause he knew you’d be good for Dean. He was right, and Dean’s thankful.”

“He’s never said any of that to me.” Not once had I heard a bit of that story. Blinking, I looked up to Gabe, waiting for him to continue.

“There are some things a man is too proud to tell the girl he loves,” Gabe explained. “He really loves you.” He touched my shoulder again, but this time, I let him. “He’ll find a way to come back safe.” He rose to his feet and took a deep breath, then he reached down to ruffle my hair. “No worries, little lady,” he chuckled as he made his way for the door. “Everythin’s gonna work out fine.”

Time seemed to pass quickly. I don’t know if that was because my heart was racing or because I couldn’t focus on a single thought long enough to make sense of anything but the ache in my stomach. I frantically tried to distract myself with anything I could. Thought maybe I should eat, but I wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t fixate on anything but the thought that Dean was in trouble and that I had no way of getting to him, that I couldn’t help him. I was pacing around my office for god knows how long before I heard the clamoring elevator moving closer. Once the sound stopped, I charged through my automatic doors and across the main room, flinging myself onto Dean in a tight hug and essentially losing every ounce of poise I had.

“Blondie,” he grunted as soon as I collided with him.

I pulled away just as quickly, now breathlessly choking back sobs and blinking back tears when I spotted the bruising around his eye, the drying blood under his nose and on his chin. “Muscles,” I murmured. My voice was so cracked it sounded like nothing but a pitiful, little squeak. I swallowed hard, trying to calm myself, but the sight of a bloody, open hole in his right shoulder left spots flashing in front of my eyes. Everything started spinning again until I gritted my teeth together. My back molars were grinding uncontrollably against each other as I was suddenly slapped with the realization that he’d lied to me.

“You promised!” I shouted, thudding my fist against his chest. “You said it would be alright!” I cried.

“Blondie—“ He winced and grabbed his shoulder.

“Don’t ‘Blondie’ me, you wanker!” I sobbed, eyes narrowed on his beaten face. “You told me it would be fine, and you got hurt, you can’t just—“

“C’mere, Cassidy,” Avery grumbled, swooping in and grabbed Dean by the arm. “Princess, you can see ‘im later.”

“Excuse you!” I huffed. “ I was talking to him!”

“Princess, go to bed,” Avery commanded as he tugged Dean away from me.

“Blondie, I’ll be right back,” Dean told me. Damn right he’d be back. I wasn’t finished yelling at him yet.

“Mumbles, that’s rude!” I retorted.

“Bed, Princess,” Avery repeated before pulling Dean behind the doors and disappearing into his room.

I didn’t know how much time actually passed, but it seemed like I had been waiting alone in my room for hours. I sat on the end of the mattress with my legs pulled into my chest, arms hugging my legs and my face hidden in the shadows formed between my knees and my chest because I didn’t know how else to calm myself down. I fidgeted a lot, constantly shifting position, but that was how I ended up every time. I always settled back that way because every other way was either too hot or too cold. I was sweating, or I was shivering. This was the only way that felt right, even though I was cramped and curled up and gasping like I’d run a mile, though I hadn’t moved an inch.

Dean was hurt. He got hurt, even though he said it was going to be okay. I should have stopped him from going, could have. If I begged him, maybe he wouldn’t have gone into work. I didn’t care what the real purpose was—whether or not he was looting the armory one last time. He put himself in danger. I could have lost him in there.

The doors slid open faintly beside me, and footsteps padded softly toward me. I couldn’t bring myself to look up. My whole body was shivering, even my insides and all my organs were shaking, and if I looked up, I might’ve started crying. I didn’t want to cry anymore. There used to be a time when I didn’t cry over people, when things like this didn’t hurt.

Weight sank into the bed and shifted toward me. “C’mere, Blondie,” Dean whispered, wrapping his one good arm around me nice and tight. Warm. Safe. I sank against him and felt the bare skin of his chest under my cheek. Felt his heart beat and knew he was still alive. He was still with me. I trembled in his grasp, and he hushed me. He held me close until the shivers stopped, until I didn’t feel like I was going to cry anymore. “Everything’s alright,” he assured me, running his fingers through my hair. “It’s all over. I’m okay.”

I shifted and squirmed away from him. His arm fell loosely around my waist. His face was still bruised but not so bloody now. His shoulder was bandaged and wrapped up, sort of in a makeshift sling. My forced smile faltered. “Muscles, you got hurt,” I whispered.

“I know,” he replied quietly, brushing my hair back off my forehead. His eyes were telling me it was okay, but this wasn’t okay.

“Dean, you’re not invincible,” I told him. He told me he knew, but I shook my head. “No, I don’t think you do.” I swallowed hard, looking just past his shoulder, so I didn’t have to look at his face. “You’ve been lucky, Dean. Really lucky. I don’t want you to keep taking chances until your luck runs out because—“ I sniffed, swallowed again. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. “Because it’ll be too late, then.”

Dean was done talking now. He didn’t answer me, just shifted and gently pulled me down on the bed with him. He laid on his back, looking at the ceiling for a moment before his eyes fluttered closed. For now, I’d let him rest. We could talk later. I kissed the bruises on his chest and settled against him, thankful that today was one more day we were both together. Both alive.