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Joanna Beth Harvelle (harvelle) wrote in wariscoming,

Her eyes were filling with tears and she was glad it was dark enough that he couldn't see them, couldn't fully see her, because if he knew she was crying than he would know how bad it really was. Stubbornly, she shook her head. "It's not your fault. And no. You're not going to die." He couldn't, because they hadn't beaten Lucifer yet and they hadn't gotten married and she was carrying his child. "You're going to be just fine. I'm going to call for help and they'll come and we'll get you back to camp. You'll have a cool scar in a few weeks you can show off, okay?" Jo tried desperately to keep her fear out of her voice, because in reality she could feel how much blood he was losing around her hand despite her effort to keep the pressure on, and she knew that he wouldn't survive after losing so much, because they didn't have a real doctor and there was no way to give him a transfusion.

"You're going to be fine, Chuck, I promise." Her voice broke a little on the word, and she never noticed that the tears were starting to fall on his face. She let go of his cheek to fumble into her pocket for her phone. It slipped out of her fingers into the grass and she shook her head - it wouldn't do any good - and instead lay her hand on his cheek again.

"I know it hurts, baby, but you have to hold on, okay? Long enough for Dean to come with help," because she couldn't have been the only one who heard the gunshot. "You have to fight, okay, Chuck?"