"Back to Reality"

The crunch of leaves beneath Dean's feet was the only sound that broke the silence as we walked, the darkness of the forest swallowing us whole. I could feel the warmth of my blood seeping through my clothes, and I knew I needed to get stitched up ASAP. Dean finally stopped in front of a rundown motel, the neon sign creaking in the wind. "We're almost there," he muttered, his voice still laced with anger. Sam helped me out of Dean's arms, and I winced as my injured side brushed against the doorframe. Dean pushed open the door, and we stepped inside, the fluorescent lights overhead making me squint. The lobby was dimly lit, the only sound the hum of the vending machines. Sam quickly got me settled onto the bed, and I collapsed onto the worn mattress, exhausted. "Sam, I need you to stitch me up," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Sam nodded, his face pale, and quickly got to work. Dean, on the other hand, was pacing back and forth across the room, his anger and frustration evident in every step. "This is all your fault, Abby," he muttered to himself, his eyes blazing with a fury that made me shiver. I knew I needed to let him vent, to let him get his anger out. Sam worked quickly, his hands moving with a precision that I admired. I winced as he probed the wound, but I knew it needed to be done. "You're going to be okay," he said softly, trying to reassure me. But I knew I wasn't going to be okay. Not until we figured out what had attacked me, and why. Not until we took care of the real problem. As Sam stitched me up, Dean's pacing grew more agitated. He was furious, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he exploded. I tried to focus on the pain, on the sensation of Sam's hands moving over my skin, but my mind kept wandering back to the attack. What had attacked me? And why? The questions swirled in my head, but I knew I wasn't going to get any answers anytime soon. For now, I just needed to focus on healing, on getting better. And on figuring out how to deal with Dean's anger. As Sam finished up the stitches, Dean finally stopped pacing, his eyes fixed on me with a glare. "We're going to get to the bottom of this," he said, his voice low and menacing. "And when we do, someone is going to pay." I knew that look, that tone. It was the look of a man on a mission, a man driven by anger and a desire for revenge. And I knew that I needed to be careful, to make sure that Dean didn't let his emotions get the better of him. But for now, I just lay there, trying to catch my breath, trying to process what had just happened. The attack, the pain, the anger. It was all swirling together in a mess, and I wasn't sure how to untangle it. As I lay there, I couldn't help but think about how this was going to affect our partnership. We'd been a team for five years, and we'd always worked well together. But tonight, something had gone wrong. Tonight, I'd disobeyed Dean, and I'd gotten hurt. I wasn't sure how Dean was going to react, how he was going to handle this new dynamic. But I knew one thing - we needed to talk, to figure out how to move forward. And fast. The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy weight that seemed to press down on all of us. I knew that we had a long night ahead of us, a night that would determine the course of our partnership, and maybe even our lives.