Authors Note: Hello everyone, welcome to yet another short story where I beat up Sam (and Dean!) for about the billionth time – are you guys getting tired of the same old same old from me? Honestly, I haven't even watched the show in over a year, but whenever I want to write I always seem to come back to these boys. Anyways, enjoy (and yes, I know how unlikely this whole scenario is, but I don't care haha).
Summary: Dean wakes up trapped in the Impala after an accident, unable to call for help. Sam on the other hand… Winchester whump! One-shot. This can take place in any season that you'd like - although Bobby is still kickin' in this one, cause I love Bobby!
Out of Reach
There was a horn blaring somewhere, Dean could distantly hear it, ringing in his ears as he leaned back against the familiar leather seats of Baby. His lids felt heavy, like they were weighted down by bricks, and there was the smell of copper, making his head ache and his stomach churn. Groaning weakly, he shifted in his seat and his eyes ripped open in shock as a world of pain assaulted his body.
Gasping and swallowing back bile, Dean clenched his teeth as he rode the pain out, eyes fixed on the ceiling of the Impala as he breathed through his nose. What in the fuck happened? Some sort of accident, a given considering he felt like he'd just been hit by a Semi (again), and damn but the car was freaking cold. Were the windows down before they crashed?
They.
They. Sam.
Dean turned his neck sharply to the right, ignoring the searing pain that it brought, eyes frantically searching for his little brother. The bile in his esophagus threatened to return when he saw the empty passenger seat. "Sammy?" He croaked, he tried to heave his body up and out of his seat, but white-hot agony nearly blinded him, and he realized quickly that the steering wheel had pinned both his legs, the car door trapping his left arm.
He was slumped slightly, allowing his neck the luxury of support from the seat back. Blinking back pained tears, Dean looked through the shattered windshield, blurry vision trying to make sense of the slumped form sprawled on the hood of the Impala and the glaring headlights of another car that were shining towards him.
His vision wavering in and out of focus, Dean felt his heart twist, pain that had nothing to do with his physical injuries spread from his chest as he finally made sense of what he was seeing.
Sam, oh god Sammy. His little brother had been projected from his seat and through the Impala's windshield, his body thrown haphazardly across the hood of the car. Sam was curved towards him, the fingers on his right hand loosely curled around the lip where the glass had been. Somehow the younger hunter had managed to grab hold in the midst of the crash, preventing him from flying clear of the car.
"Jesus Christ, Sam?! C'mon man, wake up." Dean pleaded, frustration setting his teeth on edge as the realization that he couldn't reach his brother washed over him. He tried to stretch out his only free limb, his fingers not even able to reach halfway across the dash. "Sonuvabitch!" He thrashed fruitlessly in his seat, the agony that washed over him felt distant in his desperation. "Sam wake the hell up!" He tried to bellow, gasping when his damaged ribs reminded him that that was impossible.
Taking a deep breath, Dean knew he needed to calm down and think rationally –but his little brother was bleeding and unconscious and god maybe not even alive what do I do what do I – "NO." He grumbled out loud, stopping that thought process dead in its tracks. Sam was gonna be fine, they both were, he just needed to get his shit together and fix this.
Okay Winchester, focus. Assess and plan. Picturing his late father speaking to him helped, and Dean felt his heartrate going down as he carefully took in his surroundings for a second time. Staring hard at his brother, he felt relief spread over him when he finally saw the hitched rise and fall of the younger mans upturned shoulder – Sam was breathing.
"Thatta boy." Dean praised, even as his green eyes carefully took in the various injuries Sam was sporting. It was impossible to see him fully from his position, and the dark pre-dawn gloom wasn't helping matters, but at least he could get some sort of idea of what he was dealing with here.
It was clear that Sam was streaked in blood, his hair shone wet in the darkness, the headlights of the other car illuminating the long dark strands. There were dark patches along his jacket, and Dean wasn't sure but from this angle it looked like his shoulder was dislocated – probably pulled out when Sam grabbed on to the Impala to keep from flying off. Only one of his giraffe legs was visible, the other probably angled out towards the front of the car.
The fact that he couldn't see Sam's right leg set his heart racing again – what if his leg had been ripped apart, broken – torn off in the crash and he couldn't even see it, let only fix it?
Stay calm, Dean. You can't help Sammy if you panic. One step at a time kiddo, you can't get to Sam – so what do you next?
Dean let out a slow breath as John Winchester's voice echoed through his ears. His dad would kick his ass if he was still alive to see him acting like a scared teenaged girl. He couldn't fall apart when Sam needed him. He had to get himself free, or dig out his cellphone and get some help.
Forcing himself to look away from Sam, Dean took in his own situation properly for the first time, searching for a weak spot in the crumpled Impala so that he could get himself loose. Unfortunately, he was jammed in tight, any movement brought on more pain, and I can't pass out. Stilling, he closed his eyes and tried to remember what exactly had happened, thinking that maybe he might remember something that could help them.
Dean was pretty sure they were in North Dakota, heading from a hunt? It was raining…
THEN
The rain thrummed against the windows, the wipers beat a continuous pace as the Impala cut through the darkness. Dean was humming along to Metallica, while Sam looked at his phone beside him. "We should stop for some pie."
Eyes not looking away from the device in his hands, Sam answered with a non-committal shrug, "It's two in the morning, Dean. Nothing will be open, this isn't New York City."
Dean frowned, "Party pooper."
Brow raised, Sam tore his gaze away from his screen and looked at his big brother. "What did you just call me?" He laughed.
"Gotta be pie somewhere, Sam. A successful hunt calls for it." Dean responded with an easy grin, green eyes focused on the wet road.
"You had pie 4 hours ago, remember? You ate three pieces of that chocolate diabetes causing monstrosity from that diner, what was it called?"
"Can't remember. Anyways, that was a long time ago. I want apple. Apple with caramel. I'll make it myself if I have to. Bobby's isn't far now, like three hours to go – less if this damn rain would let up. No pie for you though – party pooper."
Sam shook his head, still grinning as he locked his phone and shoved it back into his jacket pocket.
NOW
Using his free hand to swipe the blood out of his eyes, Dean let out a shaky exhale. He couldn't remember the cause of the crash, but what he did recall was invaluable. They were at most three hours away from home – and Sam's cellphone had last been in his little brother's jacket.
"Sammy," He called out again, "Sam. Can you hear me? I need your help, please." Dean couldn't help the slight tremble that came through on the last word. He needed his brother's phone. Unless the other driver had called for help, which seemed unlikely at this point, that phone was their best shot at getting help out here. Why had he taken the goddamn barren backroads again?
There was a breathy groan from Sam, and Dean picked up on it instantly, "Hey buddy, can you open your eyes for me? Let me know that you're with me here."
Another groan, accompanied by a flicker of lashes. Dean encouraged his brother along with gentle praise and reassurance, a far cry from his usual tough exterior. He was rewarded with a slit of hazel as Sam finally looked at him. "Welcome back Sam. Listen, stay still okay? There was an accident but we're gonna be okay."
"Dean?" Sam croaked back, his previously lax face tightening up as the pain from his injuries made themselves known. "….the f-fuck?"
"Yeah, I know man. Some asshole crashed into us. If he isn't dead yet I'll be killin' him later for fucking up Baby."
A short cracked laugh, followed quickly by a whimper of pain. Sam dug his head into the hood of the Impala, breathing heavily through his teeth as he tried to get through the sudden spike of agony in his chest. He was dimly aware of his brother cursing and apologizing to him. "S' okay." He finally managed to gasp out, focusing back on the older hunter's ashen, bloodied face. "Y-you're hurt."
"I'll be fine, I'd already have the troops comin' if it weren't for the fact that I'm fucking pinned down in here. Pretty sure my phone is shattered too."
Sam blinked slowly, processing the information through a head that felt sluggish and murky.
"Listen Sam, I need you to concentrate for a sec okay? I'm going to need you to move your arm closest to me. Your phone might still be in your jacket pocket. I remember you putting it there before the crash. Your left pocket Sam. Don't move anything but your arm, you hearing me?" Dean instructed clearly.
"Not s-stupid." Sam responded crossly, his arm moving clumsily towards his jacket.
Dean let out a small chuckle and agreed, "Yeah I know your aren't."
The lines of pain in Sam's face tightened as he moved painstakingly slow. Dean's green eyes watched carefully, waiting to tell him to stop if it looked to be too much for his brother.
Fingers slipping into his pocket, Sam felt his hammering heart plummet when he felt no trace of his phone. "Dean, it's not there." He delivered the news solemnly.
Dean cursed, using his free hand to punch the bench seat in frustration. "Okay, okay. We'll figure out another way then. Let me try and get loose again."
Sam watched through pants of pain as Dean wiggled and pushed, his eyes blinking slowly as he listened to his brother grunt and curse the car he loved so much. The world was dimming around him when the older man suddenly let out a high yelp. Everything coming back into perfect focus, Sam asked, "What? W-wwhat happened?"
"Nothing, I'm good."
His own pain now forgotten, Sam lifted his head slightly for a better look, ignoring the snarl Dean directed his way, "Damnit Sam don't move your head, we don't know how bad your spine is!"
"You're bleeding." Sam responded, eyes on the heavy flow of blood that was streaming from his brothers left side, painting both the crushed paneling and his jeans dark red. He twitched at the sight of so much blood, instinctively wanting to move closer and help.
"Stop moving," Dean hissed, "I just got caught on something, it isn't a big deal. Few stitches once we get outta here will take care of it."
I need to get us some help, Dean can't get out. I've gotta move. The other driver. There might a phone in the other car. I need to help Dean.
Pressing a hand against his injured side, Dean cursed at himself for making it worse. Watching Sam, whose head was still tilted up and staring in his direction, Dean could see the internal debate going on in his younger brother's head. He could see the decision in his eyes before Sam even spoke.
"No." He growled.
"Dean…"
"NO Sam. We both know the rules of first aid. You don't fucking move. You were thrown though this windshield, who knows how bad you're hurt. Stay still, I'll get loose."
"The other driver…m-might have a p-phone. I can m-make it."
"No, don't make me say it again." Dean warned, green eyes narrowed and furious.
Sam kept his eyes locked on his brother as he slowly slid towards the end of the hood. "S'okay Dean…" He murmured, "Got t-this."
Releasing the pressure against his side, Dean stretched out bloodied fingertips in a vain attempt to stop his brother. Snarling and threatening, he could only watch as Sam slid down to the asphalt. A small amount of relief seeped through when he watched Sam stagger away from the car on both legs.
Green eyes never leaving his brothers stumbling and swaying form, Dean watched with baited breath as Sam nearly went down, only catching himself on the others car mangled hood just in time. "Sammy?" He called out when his little brother didn't stir from his awkward position against the other vehicle.
His brother didn't speak, but held up one shaky hand, signalling that he needed a second.
Dean waited with mounting tension, struggling once again to free himself from the Impala. He stopped only when Sam started moving, clinging to the side of the truck as he dragged himself towards the driver's door. The older hunter squinted, trying to see his brother as he moved out of the glare of the headlights and deeper into the gloom.
His ears picked up the groan of a door being forced open, barely audible under the blaring horn that still permeated the night. A few moments later , the horn stopped, and silence fell like a blanket around them. Dean could hear the ticks and groans of the Impala, the chirping of birds in the trees as they woke up with sun, as well as his brother's breath as the younger man struggled with something out of sight.
"Sammy?" He called out again, "You good?"
The truck horn let out two quick little blasts, and Dean couldn't help but smile slightly at his brother's way of saying 'yes'.
It wasn't long after that that Sam came into view again, leaning up against the front of the truck so that Dean could see him, he waved a small device into the air.
An explosion of relief flooded through Dean, making him dizzy (or was that the blood loss?), he watched as Sam made the call to emergency, clumsily shoving the phone into his jacket pocket a moment later.
"Hey, no, stay over there Sam. You've done enough moving – no, don't, Sam stop moving you idiot!" Dean snarled, watching with annoyance and worry as Sam stubbornly pushed himself away from the other car and stubbornly started crossing the distance back to him.
He made it about halfway before faltering, one hand going to his head while the other swung out to catch himself on something, anything. Unfortunately, there was nothing to grab onto, and Dean heard his brother let out a small gasp of pain before he crumpled to the pavement like a puppet with its strings cut.
"SAM!" He bellowed as loud as possible, every emotion but terror evaporated as his brother dropped out of sight.
All rational thought gone, Dean struggled like a wild animal, desperate to escape the confines the Impala, oblivious to the further damage that he was doing to himself in his effort to get free. Unaware of the fresh gush of blood leaking down his side, the hunter continued to fight against the car until a particularly violent wrench sent a spasm of pain throughout his entire body, causing his vision to go black.
Dean groaned, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose as consciousness returned to him. It took only a moment for him to place the smell of antiseptic and the irritating beeping coming from his right side.
Hospital. Freaking fantastic.
"You back with us now?" A gruff voice spoke over the machines.
"Wish I wasn't." Dean moaned in response, eyes opening to slits as he peered up at Bobby. The older hunter was standing by his bedside, arms crossed in front of his chest and a stern look on his face. As per usual, Bobby looked out of place against the clean backdrop of the hospital room.
"They had to top you up, you idjit. That's what you get for ripping yourself to god damn ribbons trying to get outta the car yourself. If you had waited five minutes the firefighters would've got you out and maybe you wouldn't be feeling sick from all that blood loss." Bobby lectured, stopping only because Dean had suddenly tried to leap from the bed, green eyes suddenly frantic in his chalk white face.
"Sam?" He asked desperately, struggling to free himself from Bobby's gently but unrelenting grip. "Bobby, where the hell is my brother?" He snarled, frustrated at the way the older man was able to restrain him with apparent ease..
"Christ, Dean, calm down for just a second and I'll tell ya, alright?" He's fine – okay? Banged up and all, but the doc says he was lucky. Now stop movin' or you'll tear out all those stitches."
Dean stopped fighting, but he didn't move to lay back down either. "Where is he then? How bad was it?" He demanded.
"He's sleeping in a room down the hall. Dislocated a shoulder, got a mild concussion, odd bumps and bruises and some stitches on his back. He broke a collarbone and some ribs, but all in all he's going to heal with no lasting damage. The doctor said he was really lucky considering that he was thrown from the car."
Dean winced at the large list of injures but was relieved that it wasn't as bad as it could have been. "I told the dumbass to not move, but he decided not to listen." He growled, shaking his head with frustration.
Bobby squeezed his shoulder, "From what the emergency crew told the doc, you were pinned and losing blood. If Sam hadn't moved and got that phone outta the other car, you might've lost too much before you were found, you guys were in the middle of nowhere. The other driver didn't make it, sounds like he had a heart attack behind the wheel and died instantly."
Digesting this piece of news, Dean stayed silent for a moment before he continued on stubbornly, "I'm still gonna kill the little bitch – he could've had a broken back for all we knew. Help me out of here so I can go see him."
Less than forty minutes later, Dean found himself sitting stiffly in the chair beside his brother's bed. Sam was pale, but a small amount of colour was returning to his cheeks. His younger brother was awake, albeit still groggy from the painkillers.
Dean had discharged himself immediately, but he was refusing to do the same for Sam, insisting that the younger man needed at least one night in the hospital – just in case. Eyeing the TV, he shifted slightly in his seat, wincing as the movement pulled on his fresh stitches.
"Dean go back to the motel with Bobby, I'll be fine." Sam murmured, tired eyes still catching the uncomfortable lines bracketing his big brother's mouth.
"Nah, I'm good. Think I'll stay here and watch bad cable instead. We both know that Bobby snores."
"Dean…"
"Leave it, Sammy. I'm not going anywhere." Dean growled, one eyebrow arched in warning.
Sam grumbled, something about stubborn older brothers, and flicked his gaze back to the terrible show that was playing. "Could just both go back." He spoke up again after moment of silence, his tone slightly hopeful.
"Nope, not today. We can blow this place first thing in the morning, but you were thrown through the windshield and I'm not taking any chances. The doctor thinks you should stay at least one night."
Sam sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "I'm fine – the doc said so. You're the one that should still be in bed, Bobby told me how much blood you lost. The doctors didn't want to release you either."
"Yeah, but I'm freaking batman." Dean responded with a shit eating grin, before his tone turned more serious, "…and you and I are going to have a long talk about not moving when one blows through a windshield in a car accident."
Groaning, Sam used his good hand to pull the thin hospital blanket over his head, escaping his brother's sharp eyes.
Dean patted Sam's blanket covered thigh, noting with fond amusement that with the blanket pulled above his head, his not so little brothers sock clad feet were now exposed. "Get some rest Sammy, we'll talk about it later."
The blankets grumbled in response.
Grinning, Dean stood up stiffly and grabbed the extra blanket from the end of the bed. Unfolding the yellow cloth, he spread it out over his brothers' feet. "…and Sammy? Thanks man." He mumbled quietly as he moved back to his chair, his cheeks red. He had never been good with this kind of thing – it was more his brother's territory.
But of course, the younger hunter knew that.
Sam let out a loud and very unconvincing snore instead of responding, and Dean was grateful that he was being spared the chick-flick moment. He didn't need his little brother to speak to know what the other man was saying.
Don't thank me, jerk.
"Damn you're worse than Bobby," Dean complained as he made himself comfortable, settling back into his spot by his brothers side, "Shoulda gone to the motel after all."
Shut up and accept it, bitch.
END
Please let me know how you liked it!
-Ashley