"Sam?" Dean's voice echoed around the empty building. "Sam!"
Heavy wooden doors opened into a large room. Dean stepped in, glancing around for the attacker. Instead, his eyes landed on his brother laying unconscious in a large—and steadily growing—pool of blood. Dean's green eyes widened as he ran over to him.
"Damn it! What did she do?" he thought aloud angrily as he tried to lift his brother. "Sam, hey, what did she do to you? Sam, wake up—" His voice cut off as he saw the damage done to his only family. Sam's entire right arm, shoulder and all, had been violently cut off. Dean choked on his voice as he said, "Son of a bitch!" He gulped and shut his eyes momentarily before picking Sam up into a half-standing position. "Listen, Sammy, I need to get you patched up. You'll bleed to death before we can do anything."
With that, Dean pulled off his jacket and started wrapping it around the open wound, thoughts of regret not even passing his mind. After he completed, he began hauling Sam towards the door.
Dean glanced at his brother's still unconscious form. Sighing, he picked up his phone and began to call Bobby.
"Hello?" his father figure's voice came from the phone.
"Bobby, something happened. I'm coming to your house as fast as I can."
"Dean? Where's Sam?"
"He's here, but—" He stopped when he saw Sam stir. "I can't talk now. I should be there in a few hours." He clicked the phone off and turned to the tallest Winchester. "Sam?" he asked hopefully. Sam let out a quiet moan of pain and went back to how he had been for the past day—quiet and still. Dean turned back to the road, blaming himself for all this pain in his little brother.
The Impala pulled up to the house quickly. The driver's side door opened and Dean stepped out. He walked around to the passenger side quickly and started unbuckling Sam.
"Hey, hey, hey, come on, Sam—we're at Bobby's and we're gonna fix you up, okay? Here," Dean said while pulling his limp brother out. "Bobby!" he called out. "I need your help!"
Bobby opened the door to his house a minute later, a loaded gun in hand. Expecting to see a fight, the sight that met his eyes filled him with so much shock that he dropped his loaded gun. Dean was holding up his taller brother, mouth forming whispered words of comfort to him. The blond looked up and saw Bobby, his eyes guilty yet pleading.
"Dean shook his head. "Later. Just help me get him inside."
Bobby nodded and walked over to them. He went to the youngest's unoccupied side and gingerly put his arm around him. The two men gently heaved him to safety in silence.