CHAPTER TWO !

───── THEN ─────

The sounds of cocky laughter haunted Dean's ears.

     He hated this.

Every loathing second he spent dwelling with these men tore him limb to limb. They were weak, a waste of oxygen to humanity itself. Feeding off others' agony fed them with pride—with the dangerous intention of power.

     In this world, the living and power mix like fire and gasoline.

     Their words singed the strings of Dean's cold heart, "Don't look at me like that, Dee. You should've seen it—something we've all wanted to do." Joe's grin was so tight; it must have hurt. He propped a cigarette between his lips before chuckling lowly, "Can't blame a man for acting on those thoughts."

     Dean's ears ached, sending an intense pain down his spine while the men erupted into a loud fit of evil laughter. He felt sick.

     Something we all wanted to do.

All he wanted was to put a bullet right through Joe's thick skull.

     At this moment, Dean knew that no matter what happened next, they must die.

     It didn't matter if they were together or picked off one by one—they must die for what they've done to Vienna—for everything they've done.

Instead of lashing out and putting shells of silver through the cowardly man's brain, Dean stepped back, staggering over his own two feet. He needed to get away from them. So, he turned and faced the trees, ignoring Joe's taunting voice and the men's mocking calls.

     He needed to find Vienna.

     When he found her, she was deep in the woods.

Her sobs shook the vast trees. Mother nature could hear her cries. The girl rested her slim back against the wooden bark of a willow tree. Tears stained her cheeks like blood. She felt disgusting, used—hollow. She might've started to scream if she hadn't heard the crunch of Dean's boots against fallen leaves.

The noise brought her back to reality: she was still living, unfortunately.

     For a moment, it felt like she was gone.

     When the sound ceased, Vienna looked down, avoiding eye contact with Dean. Now, any man who put her in possible danger terrified her. He was the last thing she wanted to see.

Mainly because he wasn't there to save her from Joe, the one time Dean should've been by her side—he wasn't. But a part of her needed to see him. There was a feeling of comfort that Dean's hard stare gave her, but when reluctantly she met his eyes, they were soft.

     "We're leaving."

• • •

───── NOW ─────

The world went silent, and just for a moment, Vienna's heart stopped.

It was brief, nothing tarnishable, but she knew the effect would last forever.

It left her vacant. Now, something was missing. It scarred her heart, a lasting reminder of loss. She'll forever mourn the death of her glimmer in the dark, Dean.

Time began to bleed, slowing the world around her. A faint clatter was still stinging her ears in response to the blasting gunshot. She could hear muffled voices, strained and in panic. It must've been the two survivors clamoring. When she finally looked up with faded vision, she could only see blurry faces. But, the more petite figure hurried down the grass, dragging his weak leg across the yard while the young man's hand gripped his shoulders, pulling him away from the tragic scene.

Death moved like a double-edged sword, slicing her soul and mind once she realized it was Dean's blood, dampening her fingertips. In a stunned trace, she reached for her dying friend, paying no attention to the survivors overseeing from afar.

"No. No, no, no." She muttered breathlessly, struggling to pull herself up to her knees. In the back of her mind, she knew it was coming. All she could do was mourn. Her quivering fingers cupped Dean's aged face, staining her fingertips with more red. There was blood everywhere on Dean's chest, face, and shoulder blades. The crimson covered her arms, splattering her ivory skin.

Vienna gawked in utter despair. Her worst nightmare came true at dawn.

They were supposed to be better.

"D-Dean," Her voice was hoarse, "Everything's going to be okay." She lied, choking on the air. Hot and solemn tears coated her cheeks while they began to soak. "I can't do this without you."

With encouraging yet tired eyes, she searched for any sign of life in Dean. Luckily, he blinked. Dim eyes fight the abyss while he meets her tearful stare. "Y-You need to go." He gasped, pressing a hand against his bloody wound, fighting to give her his words.

"Run."

His eyes burned with tears. The girl he vowed to protect—to save was about to watch him die before her eyes. Dean always knew he would die for her, but he hoped it wouldn't be like this.

     "I'm sorry," He breathed.

They ran out of time.

If only he had listened to Vienna.

Ignoring his words, she raced to check his pulse; fingers slid down his arm and prodded against his wrist. One, two, three, she counted the beats. They were faint.

     Still, he fought death's grip. "You're right. I am such a Jackass." He joked.

His remark drowned her with sorrow. I was wrong. She wanted to say but couldn't find the strength—he needed help. Her words didn't matter now.

Out of pure hysteria and desperation, she turned to face his shooter and the injured boy. They both observed from a further distance.

The young man, Mitch, aimed his gun at Vienna's head. Just in case, he thought.

The child watched the unfortunate death before him, somehow feeling guilty for everything. "W-We should help her." He muttered so quietly that even Vienna couldn't hear.

Mitch chose to stay silent, eyeing what he had done. With watercolor eyes, he lowered the scope.

He didn't mean to kill him.

By all means, if he were to shoot to kill, it would be the leg, not the man's abdomen—where it counts.

     Although it was a mistake, he shook with trepidation. He has killed people before. So, why does it feel so different this time?

     Possibly because the consequences of his actions stood right before him in a sobbing, unruly mess, there was no escaping what he had done. He did this. He's a murderer—that's all he was meant to be, just like Dale had once compared him to. While unwanted thoughts cluttered his mind, a radiant light struck the sky.

     Mitch's glassy eyes looked up to the ominous atmosphere. Thunder growled in the sky as a wicked storm brewed above.

"Please! He's still alive. Help me, please."

The girl's voice was husky, sounding like she had just spent the night prior screaming songs at a live show. But instead of a concert, she was screaming sorrow. Meeting death once again and unwillingly facing it in all its dreadful glory. She usually wasn't one to beg for help. In this burning world, she liked doing things on her own. Because now she could, but this time was different.

Desperation melted time.

But Mitch ignored the cries and rooted his boots into the soil. He would not risk Carl's life again, especially after that man harmed him. Although it was selfish, he needed to reason.

Still, he couldn't help but ache at the sight of death, mainly because the blood was on his hands.

He was drowned with the remembrance that this man had someone who cared for him. And seeing the girl in distress destroyed him.

It wasn't fair. But Mitch had his reasons. He needed to keep Carl safe. After the countless groups of evil, they met along their journey, he refused to take a chance with strangers. There was no need for him to attempt to bargain. It wouldn't have worked. This was the only way. And deep down, everyone, including Dean, knew it had to be this way.

Letting out a shout of frustration at their uselessness, she faced Dean again. "Focus on your heartbeat; keep it going. I know you can, Dean. You've done it before." She urged the dying man on, who only gasped in response.

"Please. Please don't do this to me." Her words were gentle, sounding more like a plea than an order. She shook her head aggressively, trying to shake away the misery.

After all they've been through, day by day, Dean remained strong—untouchable even. He dealt with casual wounds every week. In ways, he's survived worse than a bullet wound. But maybe this was his last breath. His luck had run out.

Vienna's mouth widened after noticing his bleak features.

As always, her futile begs couldn't reverse death. It was inevitable, and she was about to lose this battle.

But, when Dean's heart became vague enough that she couldn't feel the gentle beats—she snapped.

Like a switch flicking into kill mode, she pushed herself up from the forest floor, and in a single motion, she whipped her blade free. The two survivors oversaw with confusion while tears streamed down her distraught facade.

The morning gloss of blue dawn shimmered onto her features, turning her once ghostly complexion to a champagne tint, highlighting her wet cheeks and red nose. Mitch watched the girl's eyes change from despair to vengeance. At first, she seemed broken, "What did you do?" She sounded like a lost girl, losing a war with her mind. Then, her voice was wicked, and her tone became unquestionable. "You killed him."

     Vienna wanted to kill the young man. And just like that, she forgot that she wanted to be better. Within seconds, she became the person she never wanted to be: Dean.

"Listen—" Before Mitch could muster a few words, the girl lunged. It happened faster than expected. Thankfully, Mitch had enough time to push Carl out of harm's way before the short blade met his abdomen.

     "Mitch!" Carl yelled.

Eye for an eye.

A loud grunt escaped Mitch's lips.

That sound invoked a flame in Carl's eyes. He needed to do something to save him.

In seconds, Carl reached for Mitch's carbine that now rested on the morning dew. Ignoring the fiery pain from his aching leg, he pushed on.

Using the weapon's rear, Carl smashed the side of Vienna's skull, knocking her unconscious, wincing childishly at the impact.

When she hit the ground, her life with Dean flashed before her. Every memory that clipped floral vines of hope to her brain charred into an ash, wilting the blooms.

Only a few feet before her, a suffering Dean hopelessly watched the girl he considered family fall to the grass, becoming one with her dead flowers. There was nothing he could do to make it better. And that realization destroyed him: he failed to protect her from his own demons.

He wished he could've been better for her.

Mitch and Carl watched her exhausted body meet the soil and lie hopelessly beside her death-ridden friend. Both regretted ever leaving the prison this morning—Rick's words about going too far out spun about their minds. As always, the former Sheriff was right.

At this moment, Vienna realized she was meant to stay hidden. She should've never raised her bow. Nothing good ever came from her help.

If only she had listened to Dean.

NOTE.  This chapter is so short compared to the last, but I think it needed to be... if that makes sense. But, yeah, that's how Vienna and Mitch meet. 😍 Enemies to lovers (real).