Disclaimer: I don't own Dean or Sam "Hottie" Winchester
The Start of Things to Come
"Sam!" Dean's relieved voice echoed throughout the ghost town as he caught sight of his brother, who came running toward him with a similar expression on his face. Bobby was at Dean's side, sporting a sawed-off shotgun.
Suddenly, Dean's expression changed from one of relief to one of complete and total horror. "Sam, look out!" he yelled.
From behind Sam, the soldier Jake reared up and, taking the knife from the ground, lodged it firmly into Sam's back, all the way through his spinal cord. Sam gasped at the sharp hot pain spreading and dropped to his knees as Jake ran, away from the Winchesters and Bobby.
"NO!!!" Dean cried, catching his brother just he began to fall forward. "Sammy! Let me look at you!" Bobby ran off after Jake, but Dean's full attention was on his brother. He watched as his younger brother's eyes flickered shut, and he shook him. "Sam, stay awake! Sam, hang on, you hear me?!" Sam's eyes closed again and his head lolled onto his brother's shoulder. Dean looked down at his brother's back and felt the blood seeping out, his life seeping out.
"Sam!!!" Dean shook his brother again, panic and sorrow rising. He couldn't lose his brother; he'd just found his stupid ass again. " SAM!!!" His helplessness deepened his pain.
Here endth the catch-up...
He's Still Alive!
Suddenly, Dean heard footsteps. In his grief, he ignored them and assumed they were Bobby's, until he actually listened. Running pace, his brain automatically registered, lighter than Bobby. He looked up, his face streaked with tears and grime from the past few days and saw a girl, a young woman covered in mud, her features obscured, running toward him at full tilt. He didn't even bother to pick up his weapon, he no longer cared.
However, the girl didn't attack him; she didn't have a weapon as far as he could tell. She dropped to her knees on the other side of Sam and put a hand on his blood-soaked back. She paused and stared off into space, before tugging on his jacket. Dean was brought out of his stupor by the sudden jerk and tugged back, grief and pain evident on his face.
"No!" he growled, without his normal fire. Dean held onto Sam with a death-grip.
The girl wasn't stopping. She tugged harder. "He's still alive! I can save him!" The pronouncement was uttered with determination, absolute belief, and slight worry. The sheer convincing tone and the certainty echoing in her words shocked Dean into releasing Sam, who fell backwards into the girl's waiting arms. She wrapped her arms around Sam's larger inert form and closed her eyes.
Dean wiped at his tears and sniffled, before common sense (or supernatural sense) kicked in. He laid his hand on Sam's neck, flinching as he felt the cold skin beneath his hand. Sam's vein pulsed, once. He was alive, but for how long was another story.
The girl had Sam in a tight embrace, with her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Dean watched, helpless to anything but trust the strange girl hugging his brother. He was already feeling grief and pain and anger at his brother's death; he'd seen the wound, and knew it was fatal. He'd never admit it aloud, but Sam was going to die. Very soon.
More is to come. Patience, grasshopper.