#dr. hess

               "Come on in, Ketch,“ you called softly. Ketch opened the door with his free hand came in. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, the very bed Ketch had occupied the night before. Ketch took in your tear-stained face. “How much of that did you hear?” Ketch shook his head, as if to deny it, but you stopped him. “Do you really think I don’t know when someone is outside my door?”

               "I brought your breakfast.“ You rolled your eyes at his attempt to change the subject. You looked at his face and saw something different there. You saw pain. And not the kind you get from a punch to the gut. The kind that comes from heartache. Your brows came together. Had you caused that? You carefully took your plate and sat down on the floor. You patted the spot next to you. Ketch looked uncertain for a moment, but decided to sit anyway.

               For a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence between you both. "Why did you run?” Ketch asked suddenly, making you almost drop your plate. You set your plate down and turned to face him. “Truth?” He nodded. “I was scared.” Ketch arched a brow. “I’ve kissed guys before, but kissing your soulmate is different. I’d never felt anything like it before. It scared me. The very thought of having someone I can’t stand to lose scares the crap out of me.”

               Hearing his own thoughts coming out of your mouth was like a slap to the face to Ketch. At least he wasn’t the only one. Fear was a foreign emotion to him, but then again, after Kendrick’s, so was love. Ketch couldn’t think of a thing to say without making himself seem vulnerable. He didn’t want that, so he simply set his plate down, took your face in his hands and kissed you again, much more gently this time. You didn’t push away, but before Ketch could deepen the kiss, his phone rang.

               Groaning, Ketch pulled away and looked at his phone. You were instantly worried when his face lost all color. He looked like he was going to be sick. “Ketch?” He shook his head and answered the call. “Arthur Ketch.” He listened intently for a moment as a frown formed on his face. The longer he listened, the deeper the frown became. “I understand. If that’s all, I have pressing business to attend to.” Without waiting for an answer Ketch hung up.

               He glanced up at you with that same look of pain etched on his face. “Are you alright?” you asked, not used to seeing him so uncertain about anything. He cleared his throat and stood. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” And just like that, he was back to his typical cold persona. Taking both plates in your hands, you stood as well and furrowed your brow. “Ketch…what is it?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he straightened his crumpled suit and walked out of the room.

               It wasn’t until he was at the door of the bunker, coat in hand, that he remembered he didn’t have his car or motorcycle. “Damn,” he muttered. You jingled a set of keys, making him turn around. “Where are we going?”

               A couple hours later, you pulled up at the British Men of Letters base. Ketch still hadn’t said what you were doing there, but you had to see what had bothered your soulmate so much and what had him texting frantically back and forth with someone. Curiosity had always been one of your strongest attributes and, when it got you into trouble, your brothers said it was your worst fault. And this time, it turned out to be a fault. A lethal one.

               You entered the base behind Ketch. He turned corner after corner and didn’t look back at you once. You could tell he was worried about something, but that he wouldn’t talk about it. When you reached a certain door, Ketch asked you to wait outside. Eventually, Ketch entered the large room with computer screens everywhere and a conference table. Standing at one end of the table was an older, redheaded woman. Dr. Hess “Ah, Mr. Ketch. I see you’ve finally made it. And Mr. Davies?” Ketch cleared his throat and replied that Mick was on his way. “Good.”

               You were still outside the room when Mick arrived. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You shrugged. “I just gave Ketch a ride.” Mick nodded and entered the room. A moment later, you heard raised voices and couldn’t fight your curiosity. You opened the door and were met with a frightening sight. Mick was facing a redhead you didn’t know while Ketch had a gun pointed at Mick’s head.

               "Ketch, stop!“ you cried, coming fully into the room and running over to him. You placed your right hand on his arm. "You don’t have to do this,” you whispered to him. Dr. Hess looked between you and Ketch for a minute. Then, she noticed the mark on your hand. Ketch’s mark . She let out a hollow laugh.

               "Dear girl, do you really expect Mr. Ketch to go against his training? To forget everything he has ever known? For a woman?“ You glared at her. "Mr. Ketch is a loyal dog. He does as commanded when he is commanded, without question and without mercy. No one, not even his soulmate can break him of that habit.” You returned your attention back to Ketch.

               His eyes were glued on Mick, who wore as mask of horror. He just knew he was going to die. “Ketch,” you whispered, stepping in front of him completely and cupping his face with your hand. “Arthur, please. You don’t have to do this. You can change. You can break whatever hold she has over you. Please.”

               Finally, he looked at you and you saw the war going on behind his eyes. You gave him a soft smile. He didn’t want to kill Mick. You could see it. There was hope for him. “It’s okay, Arthur. You are not a mindless killing machine. You are human.” You placed your other hand over his heart. “This works, remember?” Your voice was so soft now that only Ketch could hear you. Neither of you noticed Dr. Hess reaching into her handbag for something. It wasn’t until a shot rang out that either of you remembered there were others in the room.

               A searing pain coursed through you. You cried out and crumpled forward. It snapped Ketch out of his daze just in time to catch you. “Now, I normally don’t like to get my hands dirty, but you gentlemen left me no choice. Neither did she,” Dr. Hess declared, her voice void of any emotion. Ketch began shaking in rage, but it was Mick who acted. He pulled his hidden revolver from his waistband and shot Dr. Hess without so much as second thought.

               Silence. Dead silence was all there was for what felt like hours but was probably only seconds. Mick stared in disbelief at what he’d just done. It wasn’t until it registered in Ketch’s brain that Dr. Hess was dead that he moved. The weight of your body suddenly pulled both you and Ketch to the floor. His eyes met yours. You were still wearing that small smile, but your eyes were losing light fast.

               "Don’t do this. You can’t die on me now, Y/N.“ You let out a chuckle. Ketch could almost feel the pain and the life leaving your body. "I’m a Winchester. It’s gonna take a lot more than that to kill me.” You winced as more pain shot through you. “On the other hand, this really freakin’ hurts.” Ketch had placed his hands over wound to try and stop the blood. “Y/N…please.”

               You reached up to his face again. “Arthur, it’s okay.” Realization was beginning to hit Ketch like a ton of bricks. You were going to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He took his hand off your wound and cupped your cheek, ignoring the fact that he was smearing your blood all over your face.

               It just wasn’t fair. He’d finally found his soulmate and now he was going to lose you. He brought his lips down to yours, knowing it would be the last time he’d get to kiss you. When he pulled back, your eyes were closed and your chest wasn’t rising or falling anymore. You were gone. Lost to Ketch forever. Ketch let out an inhuman noise.

               After carefully setting you down in the ground, Ketch reached out for the first thing he could. He punched the table. Over and over again until he couldn’t anymore. Meanwhile, Mick called your brothers. That very night, they gave you a hunter’s funeral. Ketch felt empty as he watched the flames ride higher and higher.

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               Ketch bolted up in bed, panting.  Sweat coated his brow and he felt warm, as if he had just been standing by your pyre. He glanced over at the space next to him to see you sleeping there. You were alive. You hadn’t died that night. Hess had, but you hadn’t. They had gotten you to the hospital fast enough. Taking a few calming breaths, Ketch laid back down. He reached over and pulled you to him, your back pressed up against his chest. He placed his right hand over yours, essentially joining your marks. He breathed in the scent of your shampoo. The smell of it and the feeling of having you in his arms lulled Ketch back to sleep. ��{d

(a/n: I hope this lived up to your expectations!)

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