A/N: First Weechester! This is another one of my one-shots, since I was encouraged from the number of views I got from my last one. That's a good thing right? By the way, just so it's clear, I'm not abandoning The Missing Memory. I was just stumped for a little while, and I lost my internet connection… Which would prove to be a good thing since my imagination has ran a little wild since then and I wrote so many things which I'll post tonight simultaneously—a few one-shots and the new and improved version of TMM. Anyway, you know the drill. R&R please? Thanks a lot! You guys rock!
Dean hated being left in the motel, or in this case, the cabin. Sure, it was fun to be around his adorable baby brother—though he was quickly losing his cuteness over the years as he kept on complaining and complaining about more stuff—and he sure as hell wanted that more than going to school and pretending to be normal, but the constant waiting for his father to return from a hunt were simply unbearable.
He knew, of course, why he had to be left here. He had to protect Sammy and that definitely took precedence over anything. But that did nothing to crush his growing unease whenever he had to wait for his father to call. He barely ever did whenever he was in the middle of something, for which Dean was very annoyed. Couldn't he at least call to assure his sons that he was still alive? Or I dunno, assure himself that his children were still alive? Dean thought rather venomously.
The twelve-year-old Winchester had once shouted at his father for that a while back, shocking the older hunter because his eldest rarely, almost never, questioned any of his orders ever since that shtriga hunt that almost got his younger brother. "Don't you even wanna know how we're doing!?" he had screamed. John Winchester, pro-hunter but definitely not "Father of the Year" nominee, had just shrugged that outburst off after the initial shock. And Dean went back to being the good son.
Now, however, Dean wished he had pressed for an answer. The clock ticking ominously did nothing to calm him down. His dad was taking out a nest of vampires about two towns over, and he worried. Dean knew that his father was the best hunter there is, but no matter how much he assured his younger brother that their father was going to be okay whatever happens, he still worried about him. He just can't lose another family member.
Sam Winchester lay in bed, tossing and turning. Only recently had he been informed about the true nature of their father's work, and it truly bothered him. It was a good thing to be not kept in the dark for once, but the things he saw from his dad's journal revolted him. And right about now, his dad was fighting those horrible things. Sam couldn't hold back the shudders that racked his small form as his consciousness slipped from him and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
Dean flipped through the channels and settled on one that showed a rerun of The People Under the Stairs without really seeing what he was watching. He'd seen this about a hundred times throughout the fifty states of America and it had since then lost his interest. He's been meaning to stay awake throughout the duration of the next two days when his dad should be done with the hunt, but the young hunter felt his eyelids drooping and without putting much of a fight due to his tired state, he fell into a fitful sleep.
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Dean shifted a little to ease the worsening soreness on his back. It seems as if he has fallen asleep sometime in the night as he watched TV sitting on the couch, but he lacked the strength to get up and reposition himself on a much comfortable bed. This would just have to do, he told himself sleepily.
That's when he heard the barely audible noise of jiggling on the door. He was alert and upright in a matter of minutes.
Inspecting the door, he saw that it was, in fact, shaking a little. Someone's picking the lock, Dean thought frantically.
Checking in the room he shared with Sammy, he was glad to see that his baby brother was fast asleep. He closed the door as silently as he could and locked it from the outside. No need to have Sammy running out and getting caught in the fight, he rationalized. That would make it easier for the intruder to get inside, but hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.
He had no idea what time it was and didn't bother to find out. He grabbed the sawed-off shotgun he kept by the door of their room and stood in front of it protectively. Whatever it was trying to get inside their cabin, it would have to go through Dean's cold, lifeless corpse before he could get Sammy. Dean really wished it didn't come to that. His brother was still untrained so he wouldn't be able to protect himself well. He'll just have to finish this off as quickly as he could then.
The front door suddenly flew open, a gust of wind accompanying it. It was in the middle of November, and Dean remembered hearing in the news that a blizzard seemed to be on its way to this tiny town. He shuddered a little—from the cold or the anticipation, he didn't know—cocking his shotgun in front of him just the way his father had taught him.
A dark figure loomed on the doorway and, as it approached, it became even more distinctively human. He, or rather, she soon came to the light that Dean had left on in the room and he saw the undeniable set of fangs it had. "Vampire," Dean muttered under his breath, his weapon limp in his hands. His gun was useless.
The vamp smirked, obviously delighted to see that her supposed opponent was a mere child. Gun would be pretty much useless, but it should slow her down if I could only blow off one of her legs, Dean thought to himself, already formulating a plan as the she-vamp made a show of licking her lips soundly. Oh yeah, you're definitely going down.
Before the she-vamp could advance on him, Dean aimed and pulled the trigger. The sound echoed inside the room and Dean momentarily heard his brother stir from his sleep before he propelled himself towards the duffel bag of weapons that lay on the small table in the kitchen. He tugged at the zippers with nimble fingers and almost got out a machete before a pair of hands grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and pulled.
The action had Dean tumbling onto the monster as she bit onto his throat and sucked. He cursed a little at that, struggling to keep at bay the scream he knew was coming. Dean, unwilling to be monster chow, jutted an elbow behind him to get her to stop. By now, his baby brother was clearly screaming and crying and pounding on the door. The bloodsucker turned her attention there and tossed Dean to the side like he was nothing more than an empty can of beer.
His back collided painfully with the wall, but Dean completely ignored it, his older brother instincts kicking off into extreme gear. He stood up immediately, disregarding the protest of his sore back. Dumping a hand into the duffel, he retrieved his hand that now clutched a huge machete the size of his arms. He didn't miss a beat and rushed forward onto the she-vamp, meaning to decapitate it before it even noticed that he was already rightfully armed.
Dean's plan backfired, though, and the creature whipped around just in time to avoid a lethal blow and grab Dean's arm that held the machete. She squeezed it and the young hunter felt pain shoot up his elbows. The pain was excruciating and Dean scarcely had time to register the dull thud as his knees gave out on him, his mouth screaming at the agony even though he did everything he could not to.
Darkness was threatening to pull him down and he almost didn't hear the she-vamp say, "I guess I'll just have to deal with you first before I snack on your brother then." Almost.
Through the blinding pain and the spots dancing in his vision, Dean Winchester managed a weak punch with his free hand. It wasn't strong enough to knock the bloodsucker off him, but it shocked her enough into loosening her grip on him and he was quick to take advantage at her dazed look and close proximity.
His right arm was no doubt broken, mangled even, and his left shoulder was still freely pumping blood from a vampire bite but, between the adrenaline rush and the fierce determination to protect his brother, Dean gripped the machete tight with both hands, lifted it above his injured shoulder letting his weapon gain momentum. "Adios, bitch," he growled out before viciously swinging his weapon forward, decapitating the beast in front of him with one blow.
Its detached head thudded on the wooden floor and rolled away, its face frozen in an eternal gape, definitely unconvinced that a twelve-year-old boy had killed her.
The young hunter almost passed out then, but again, he forced himself up to close the goddamn front door. He got sheets from a cabinet and covered the dead body, grabbing the head by the hair and placing it near its neck. Once that was done, he dragged his heavy feet towards the door where his little brother has been pounding on relentlessly, unsure of whether to open it or just call dad. He chose the former when he heard his brother's heart-wrenching sobs and unlocked it before collapsing on his knees, the loss of blood and the ache all over his body taking its toll on his young frame.
When Sam had heard the gunshot, he first thought that he was having another nightmare. He's been having them a lot lately, and it always frightened him. More so now when he saw that his older brother was not beside him on the bed. Pushing his blankets aside, he started heading for the door, needing his big brother, his protector and comforter, to make the dreams go away.
However, he stopped short when he heard commotion outside the door. It scared him at first, but then he heard his brother curse with a pained voice and he immediately sensed that something was very wrong. He tried opening the door then, overcoming his fear, but it wouldn't open. Crying now, he screamed as loud as he could, "Dean! Dean! What's happening!? Dean, are you okay!? Dean, open the door please!" He kept that up as he hammered at the door.
But then he heard his brother scream, and he just couldn't take it anymore. He cried even louder, if that was even possible, and punched and kicked the door that wouldn't let him see his brother. And then, mercifully, everything was quiet outside. He tried thumping on the door again, calling out his brother's name over and over again until he felt his throat go hoarse. Suddenly, there was a clicking noise and the door swung open.
Sam's eyes were assaulted by the sudden brightness, and he stepped back a little, just in case it wasn't his brother who opened the door. A little figure stepped by the threshold before collapsing. He instantaneously recognized it as his brother and he ran forward, his eyes filling up with a fresh wave of tears. His brother's voice was a strangled cry from his lips. "Dean!"
"Hiya, Sammy," Dean managed to call right back.
He hugged his brother tightly, and it drew a loud protest from him. "Oh, sorry," Sam muttered. "I'm just relieved you're alive!"
A deep but painful chuckle rumbled in Dean's chest. "Do you mind calling Uncle Bobby, squirt?"
"S-sure," Sam stuttered, letting his brother sink down onto the floor a little more as gently as he could. Dashing for the cell that dad left them, he hurriedly dialed Bobby's number.
At this time in the night, he didn't expect him to answer immediately, but thankfully, he did. "Bobby!" he cried out as soon as the older hunter picked up the phone. "Need help. Dean's injured, Dad s'not here. It's really bad," he rattled out in short sentences that were barely intelligible, but Bobby seemed to get it.
"Where are you?" The rustling of clothes sidetracked Sam for a while before Bobby yelled out, "Sam! Where are you?"
"We're at a cabin just outside Sioux Falls."
Bobby uttered words that Sam's father has always told him not to say. But then he must've remembered that Sam was on the other line. "Okay, I'm coming," he replied hurriedly, and Sam heard the rumbling of an engine.
"Hurry, Bobby!" he said urgently. "I think Dean's dying!" he cried out, spying on the unmoving form of his brother slumped on the jamb of the door. His eyes were closed and blood was continuously spreading all over his shirt and onto the floor. It was the first time Sam has been this scared and he didn't know what to do. There was no Dean to comfort him.
"I'm coming, boy, I'm coming!" Bobby thundered. "Just hold on Sam, I'm coming!"
Sam mumbled a shaky okay before he ended the call and approached his brother again. "Dean?" He was afraid to touch his older brother, but he wanted to assure himself that he was still alive, and so he shook him a little on his unhurt shoulder. "Dean."
Hazel eyes snapped open, looking around wildly first before focusing on him. "S'mmy," he whispered, smiling a little. "Called Bobby?" Sam nodded. "G'd boy, S'mmy. G'd boy."
Dean eyes began to close again and Sam's began to water in response, "Dean, please don't die."
"'m not dying, b'by bro. Not dying yet. Not here," he answered quickly though his voice was more hushed this time.
Sam shuffled over to his brother's side and let his head rest on his shoulders while they waited.
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Bobby Singer's cell number was only given to his most trusted friends, most of them hunters. The others either received the ones labeled as different government agencies or his telephone line. So when the familiar ringing of his cell rang, he was immediately roused from his perch in front of his desk. Answering it, he didn't expect the young voice of Sam Winchester to call out to him hysterically at this time of the night.
"Need help. Dean's injured, Dad s'not here. It's really bad," the kid had said before he could even answer. It instantly had his old heart into hyperdrive.
"Where are you?" he asked, focusing on the task at hand. It wouldn't do to panic now. The boys needed him. He started to get a parka on himself when he noticed that Sam still didn't answer. "Sam! Where are you?" he repeated, getting the boy's attention.
"We're at a cabin just outside Sioux Falls," Sam sounded dangerously close to passing out.
"What the hell!?" Bobby exclaimed before catching himself on time. "Okay, I'm coming," he replied just as he grabbed his keys and ran outside, pulled the door open with enough force to almost unhinge it from the main frame, stuck the key onto the car and revved the engine.
"Hurry, Bobby!" Sam said urgently. "I think Dean's dying!"
"I'm coming, boy, I'm coming! Just hold on Sam, I'm coming!"
The boy mumbled something before he ended the call and Bobby stepped on the gas. He dialed another familiar number as he pushed the truck well past its limits. As expected, John didn't answer. Must be why the boys decided to call me instead, he thought spitefully, The next time he saw the eldest Winchester, he was seriously gonna beat him up.
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The sound of a car pulling up had raised Sam's hope. He glanced over at his brother to say so when he noticed that his brother's eyes were closed yet again. He shook him a little just like he did earlier and whispered his name, but this time, his eyes remained resolutely shut. Panic set in Sam's stomach. He shook Dean much more brusquely but still there was no response. Sam started to cry again as he did the best he could to wake Dean up.
The door burst open then. Bobby came inside and took in the form of the two brothers: Sam shaking his brother awake and Dean just lying there, his breathing dangerously shallow. Bobby noticed a body covered up in sheets a few feet away from them and briefly wondered about that before coming over to Dean and carrying him up. "We need to take him to the hospital now, son," he explained to Sam as he carried Dean out; he noticed that the boy had put on some weight since the last time he saw him. A quick assessment told him that the older Winchester had lost a lot of blood from a neck wound that strangely looked like a vampire bite, a few broken ribs and a mild concussion. He couldn't help but cuss again.
After a few eternities that was actually just a twenty minute drive to Sioux Falls General, the Singer-Winchester tandem got the seriously injured young hunter into the hospital. Several doctors greeted them and rested Dean's unmoving body onto a gurney. They rolled him into the almost deserted halls of the hospital and entered the door to the ER before ushering Bobby and Sam away.
"But I need to stay with him," Sam insisted, wanting nothing more than to stay with his big brother, fighting the nurse's hands that kept him away from the door.
Bobby stepped in. "Sammy…" he began.
"Only Dean could call me that!" the boy screamed violently, still fighting the nurse ferociously, almost like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. So Bobby knelt down and hugged Sam with all the tenderness he could manage until the youngest Winchester hugged back, losing the fight in him and just settling on crying himself out.
The old hunter couldn't help his heart break a little as he did his best to comfort the boy, amazed and somewhat teary at the display of the strength of the boy's bond as brothers. He prayed to whatever mighty power there is that Dean pull through this, because he was afraid that if he didn't, Sam wouldn't as well.
A/N: Sooo *grins evilly* Whaddya guys think? Will Dean survive? I haven't decided and in the end, I just thought that maybe you would think of a better ending than I would so I'm leaving it as a cliffhanger. Who knows, maybe I'd make it into a two-shot. But for now, reviews would be nice :)