He glanced up at Brendan and Jasper, only to see they were crying too. Dean was about to order everyone out to give Silas some privacy, when the omega suddenly jumped to his feet.
“The hunters have circled back,”said Silas through the bond. He unsheathed his wicked looking dagger, a frantic, vicious look in his dark eyes, and he tore out of the room as if the hounds of hell were after him.
Dean tried to sit up, to go after him, but Malachi pushed him back down onto the bed with alarming strength.
“No,” said the healer resolutely. “I like my intestines on the inside. Imagine if he comes back to find you died permanently this time because I let you get up.” Malachi glared at him ferociously. “Stay down!”
Dean surrendered. “The hunters have come back! Go help him!” he snapped at the betas instead.
Brendan and Jasper glanced at each other. “I think he’s got this. We’d only get in his way,” replied Brendan.
Dean groaned. They were probably right. It didn’t mean he’d enjoy lying there whilst his mate went after eight hunters all by himself. Hunters who had killed him. Dean shivered. He felt fine, he was sure of it. Tired, but nothing else. The thought that he had been dead was immensely unsettling.
Silas had seen him die. The pain of that realization stole his breath away. The thought of the suffering he had caused his mate was a thousand times greater than the horror he felt for himself. No wonder Silas had been so upset. If the roles were reversed… Dean couldn’t bear to finish that thought. He did manage to consider what he would do to the hunters, and he was nowhere near as ruthless or as vicious as Silas. Suddenly he felt a little sorry for the humans.
But mostly he was tired. Apparently, dying was exhausting. He closed his eyes. Sleepy, even though his mate was out there fighting all alone.
“Don’t go to sleep,” ordered Malachi.
Dean opened his eyes. “Why?”
“Because I don’t know where you will go,” said the healer.
Dean suddenly felt wide awake. “I can’t sleep ever again?” he asked weakly.
Malachi shook his head. “It will probably be fine, but I think the first time you do, Silas should be here.”
Dean thought that sounded like a very sensible idea. So he lay there, wide awake. Waiting. He didn’t want to look down the mate bond in case he distracted Silas at a crucial moment. He was helpless, useless, and it was annoying. He couldn’t wait to be fully recovered and back on his feet.
Malachi kept taking Dean’s pulse and peering at him anxiously. The healer said nothing, so Dean assumed all was well.
“Don’t tell anyone you saw Silas being upset,” said Dean sternly, glaring at each of his wolves in turn.
They all nodded eagerly. Dean stared at them a moment longer, making sure they understood how important it was. Judging by their pale faces, Dean didn’t think they were going to talk. Probably more because they were scared of Silas than that they were obedient to their Alpha, but Dean didn’t mind. As long as they kept quiet. Silas had his reputation and pride.
They waited in silence. Dean strained his ears, trying to catch any sounds of fighting, but he heard nothing. He was just getting really worried when finally Silas walked in. Covered in blood. Like something from a horror film. As if someone had poured a whole bucket of it over him.
“Angel!” gasped Dean.
Silas dropped to his knees by Dean’s bedside and took his hand. “It’s not mine,” he reassured.
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Did you get them?”
Silas nodded, eyes glinting in satisfaction.
“All eight of them?” asked Dean.
Silas merely nodded again, staring at Dean as if he never wanted to take his eyes off of him again.
“Okay, we should go. This place was a trap. It’s still not safe,” said Dean.
Silas shook his head. “No, you need to rest. We have eight zombies guarding the perimeter.”
Dean stared at his mate, completely lost for words.
“What?” grumbled Silas, a little defensively. “They pissed me off.”
Hunters turned into zombies. The thought whirled in Dean’s mind. Hunters were humans who had discovered the paranormal and hated it so much they devoted their lives to killing as many as they could. They burned their fallen on huge pyres as soon as possible, to stop any chance of them becoming what they hated. Silas had killed them and turned them into their own worst nightmare.
