Dean was back in the kitchen when he heard a sound from his bedroom. He paused, listened. Emma was calling his name weakly; he heard coughing. Then total silence.
Fuck. Something is very wrong.
He rushed down the hallway and burst through the door. What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.
Emma was lying in the middle of his bed, covered in blood. She was limp and deathly pale, her eyes were closed. He launched himself at her and lowered his ear to her mouth. He heard and felt her breath, but it was faint and shallow.
“Emma!” he said. “Honey, can you hear me?”
She didn’t even move.
Oh, God. Not again, not again. No f*****g way.
He ran his hands over her body now, frantically trying to see where the blood was coming from. He realized that it was a nosebleed and he yanked off his t-
