BLIND SIDED

Tag to 7.02 Hello Cruel World and 7.03 The Girl Next Door.

So I was wondering – as I'm sure most fans did – just how did Dean end up with the injuries to his face? They weren't there after the Leviathan decked him, or in the ambulance in 'Hello Cruel World'. But when he wakes up in the hospital in 'The Girl next door' his face is sporting a couple of lacerations and bruises… so where did they come from?

From what I have garnered the episodes were filmed out of order (so that Jensen could direct) which probably accounts for the oversight. But I'd like to opt for a missing scene (or two) and another scuffle rather than poor continuity checking. So here's my take…

Warnings for explicit language.

Pretty much just spoilers for these episodes only and maybe 7.01.

Dean knew as soon as the shotgun ripped half its skull off that it was a Leviathan or whatever the hell the' big-mouthed, black-goo-oozing creatures' were – which was something of a problem: blasting half its head off barely had any effect on it. Certainly pissed it off though, judging by its ferocious growl and gapping, freaking, piranha-mouthed, snake-tongued snarl. And it was a strong son of a bitch too. It swatted Dean's shotgun away like an annoying fly and securely fisted its huge hands in his jacket lapels, then it picked him up and tossed him several meters into the air. Dean crash landed onto a beat-up, old car wreck and none too gracefully. The windscreen shattered on impact and then with the force of his momentum he bounced right off the bonnet. Instinctually he shot his leg out to break his fall. Only it wasn't his fall that broke. As his foot slammed into the ground, his boot wedged beneath the edge of the tire, and with his uncontrolled impetus he did a twist and turn all at once, in a way his leg definitely wasn't supposed to bend. The explosion of pain that accompanied the audible crack was sooooo not good!

He couldn't quite grasp just how some guy – some thing – with bad breath and in need of some serious dental work, had got the better of him. He had, after all, been tossed a million times before. He should have had the whole deal down pat by now – relax, tuck and roll. Not this time. And in front of Sam – who he'd been trying to save, no less. Bang up job he did of that! And man his leg hurt – seriously hurt.

He dragged himself away from the Leviathan, and shit yeah, his leg fucking hurt! Team that with the odd angle his lower leg now jutted out at and the fact that he couldn't actually move it, not without a shit load of pain, probably meant their Winchester Luck was in full swing – which pretty much meant that things were totally FUBARed! And was that blood on his jeans' leg? Of course it was! Things were going from bloody bad to freaking worse. If he had to add two and two together the only answer he could deduce right now was that he was seriously screwed! Everything pointed to the fact that he'd busted his leg, and it wasn't going to be a pretty sight…

The sound of Sam's fist smacking the guy in the jaw snapped Dean's attention back to the ensuing battle. The Leviathan had been duly decked by Sam's blow, and for whatever reason Sam was now star gazing, or the like. Dean couldn't help but follow Sam's stare upwards, to the Ford Maverick hanging mid-air on a car hoist… and immediately above the creature. Strange how in his pain induced perception he happened to recall standing in the exact same spot a few days ago, speaking to Bobby, whilst his pseudo father had hoisted the damned car up there. Suddenly everything seemed to fall into place and Dean's head whipped around to the bonnet of the car beside which he lay, and sure enough, Bobby had left the controls there.

As he hauled his lame ass across the gravel, Sam obviously had the same notion, "Dean, now!"

However before he could drop the car the Leviathan made it back up onto its feet again, grabbing a crowbar off the ground. Dean punched the release button on the hoist controls and watched as the Maverick seemed to drop in slow motion. Whilst time stood still the Leviathan swung the crowbar at Sam like a baseball bat…

Dean couldn't believe his eyes when the car bulls eyed the creature, reducing it to not much more than a black, gooey puddle beneath the smashed car carcass.

But Sam had gone down hard too, probably didn't even know what hit him – he'd gone down like a lead balloon – only now he wasn't making any attempt to get back up again.

"Arggg… ahhh… " Dean dragged himself to Sam's side, "Sam?" He shook his brother's shoulder, however he did not get a response from his unconscious brother. Sam was definitely down for the count. Still it couldn't hurt to try. "Sammy? Hey come on now… come on. I'm the one with the broken leg, you gotta carry me… Sam!" And still he got no response, not even a murmur or a moan – nothing.

Dean started to panic – just a little… ok, maybe a shit load – after all, there was a Leviathan pancaked under a car oozing black goo everywhere, Sam was out cold, and he was freaking hobbled by a busted leg. Plus he had no idea if the Leviathan had brought a friend, or two. What was worse was that not only did Sam remain unresponsive, but he had blood trickling from his ear and even Dean knew the seriousness of that. Sam was hurt, and hurt bad. Sure he had a pretty hard head, Dean knew from experience that Sam could take a blow like a prize fighter, but this time… well it just wasn't good. Hell, neither of them were. They were both screwed, and there was no way either of them were getting out of this under their own steam. He wasn't entirely sure what he should do – he had no one he could call to get them out of the current shit they were both in. Pretty much everyone they'd ever relied on, were gone… their dad, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Rufus… they were all gone - the 'dead' kind of gone. Even Cas was gone, or maybe he was dead too, and now Bobby… Bobby was… not dead, just gone. Bobby couldn't be dead too, even though he was supposed to be there, even though he didn't answer his cell, even though there was nothing left of his house but a burnt out shell… Bobby just couldn't be… dead…

Dean had to admit defeat: the situation required seriously drastic actions. As much as he hated the notion he had no other option…

"Agghhrr…" Dean rummaged through his jacket pocket until he felt the familiar shape of his cell phone. A few seconds later he had made his 911 call. The operator had asked him to stay on the line, however Dean knew he had more pressing issues to deals with – like getting Sam somewhere safer, which was well away from the squashed leviathan. All that could be seen of it was an arm – a very human looking arm – that could only be attached to an extremely squashed body that disappeared beneath the wrecked car, surrounded, not by blood, but by a pool of black goo. Had it not been for the black, gooey bodily fluids oozing out of their attacker Dean could probably have pointed the finger at the 'man' as the culprit who had torched Bobby's house and then came after them. But as it was there was already way too much explaining to do – what with a cinder box being all that remained of Bobby's place, and them both busted up – but how the hell do you make a squished monster in human disguise and black goo sound perfectly normal? And worse, he had no idea if gravity and a car was enough to stop the thing, not when a face full of shot pellets only managed to piss the thing off. And he didn't know if there were any more Big-Mouths lurking around. Somehow he had to get them both away from the 'Leviathan verses car' impact site.

"Sammy? Come on," Dean persisted to no avail. "Please Sam, open your eyes, wake up." Still Sam did not stir, and that couldn't be good. The longer Sam was out the greater the odds that Sam's injuries were serious. And Sam had to be ok, he just had to be, because Dean couldn't lose Sam too! His heart was beating like a piston, in total trepidation: Saw was really hurt, the kind of hurt that he probably couldn't fix. And right now he had to get his brother to a safe place, well away from the Leviathan. "Shit, Sam. You're gonna make me do this the hard way, aren't you?"

Dean hauled himself forwards, until he was an arm's length away from Sam, wincing as his leg dragged along behind him. He hissed in agony when his boot caught on the gravel beneath him, tugging on his foot and sending another blast of pain shooting up his leg, but he knew the pain would certainly get worse, way worse, once the adrenalin wore off. He pushed the torturous pain from his thoughts, concentrating on the arduous task at hand. He had to get them both to a location where the Leviathan was out of sight. And he had to do it fast, because as best as he could figure the ambulance would take about 20 minutes. Singer's Salvage Yard was an ace spot to hide away in, miles from anybody really and perfect for your mild-mannered monster hunter. But lying on the outskirts of town sure sucked at times, like now when Sam was obviously critically injured and when a bottle full of pain killers and a real doctor would be nice. Dean just had to hope that no one was dying. But, given the fact that he was acutely mobility-challenged at the moment, it would hopefully give him time to drag his sasquatch brother somewhere safer. At least he'd have to try.

Dean gripped a fistful of Sam's jacket in one hand and then dragged his brother towards himself. Then he hauled himself a foot or so further along. Then he tugged Sam towards himself again and repeated the whole grueling task again, and again, and again…

Sam didn't stir once. He didn't moan or complain. He didn't wake up and bitch about having his ass dragged clear across the salvage yard. Didn't grouse Dean out for attempting the monumental task with a busted leg. He didn't do anything. And Bobby still hadn't called, or turned up. Dean had to focus on his task to keep himself from breaking down into a blubbering heap of despair. When the pain exploded into an unbearable agony every time his foot caught on the gravel or his leg twisted the wrong way, he used the pain to compel himself forward. Nothing else existed, but his task: his duty to save and protect Sam. Time dissolved and lost all sense of measure, the task and the agony melting into one endless challenge until finally he heard them…

By the time the sound of the ambulance sirens broke through his resolute trance he'd managed to lug Sam's still freaking-out-cold-ass some fifty meters away, around behind one of Bobby's wall of cars, back towards what was left of the house, and well out of sight of the Leviathan. He was hopeful that he had managed to avoid any reason to have to explain exactly what had happened. As soon as he stopped his quest, however, his neglected, antagonized injury paid out on him. The retribution was a blinding wave of pain that exploded up his leg demanding his entire attention. The pain was so overwhelming that the world started tilting all askew and his sight began to blur. Dean struggled to keep himself conscious. And he was going to puke for sure with the intense, throbbing agony that pulsed up his wounded leg. But somebody had to keep an eye on Sam, and that had been his job since he'd been four years old. 'Breathe' he told himself, 'just breathe'. He lay panting by Sam's side when the paramedics finally came jogging up to them.

"Hey there, you call for an ambulance?" the 'Captain-Freaking-Obvious' paramedic actually asked. Dean figured that the fact that two grown men were lying on the ground in the middle of a salvage yard may have been some clue. And his unconscious, and bleeding brother should have clinched it for him, but what the hell, if the guy wasn't sure…

"Ya think? We're bloody well not here waiting for Halley's Comet!" Dean could have decked the guy for his stupid, freaking query, if only he could get himself upright. Ok, so maybe it was the pain making him a tad surly, but come on! "It's my brother, Sam, he's out cold… I can't wake him."

"Ok, then. You wanna move back, give us some room, so we can take a look at him," the paramedic asked Dean, practically planting his massive Emergency Kit on top of him in reprisal for the snide remark. Dean's pain-wracked wince went unnoticed by the EMTs who had all their focus on Sam.

One of the paramedics flipped the kit open and within seconds the two men began checking Sam's vital signs.

"My name's Steve, this is Trent, and your brother's name is Sam, right, but what's yours?" one of the EMTs asked him over his shoulder.

"Umm…" what the hell was the name on their latest medical insurance? "Dean. Dean Bono."

"So, Dean, you want to tell us what happened?" Steve queried as the other EMT checked Sam's pupils with a pen light. Dean was thunderstruck by the EMT's expression and could only suspect the paramedic's frown and dejected sigh meant bad news. "Hey Dean? Can you tell me what happened?" Steve asked him again.

Dean hadn't actually been lucid enough to think of a convincing cover story as yet, working his way through his own pain and panic taking precedent over all other cognitive thoughts. But he realized that having as much information about the circumstances of what had happened would help them treat their patient and give them a better understanding of the possible nature of Sam's injuries.

"To Sam?" Dean's attention snapped immediately back to the paramedic's query as his mind worked overtime to formulate a credible account.

"Yeah, what happened to your brother?" Steve replied.

"He got hit," Dean muttered back.

"With what?" Captain Obvious – Trent – asked over his shoulder acerbically, not even looking at Dean as he took out an oxygen mask and began placing it over Sam's mouth.

"Ummm… with a crowbar, I think," Dean replied on impulse, without really having thought of a suitable explanation. His brain functions were seriously befuddled by exhaustion and pain and his response was blurted out before he really had time to consider something a little less truthful.

"A crowbar? The hell? Someone hit him?" Steve gave him a questioning glare, pausing his ministrations to concentrate on Dean's story. The other paramedic began to listen to his account as well, giving Dean a condemning glare. Dean suspected that his first thought, seeing as there was no one else around, was that it had been Dean who had attacked Sam. "What the hell happened?"

"Was a guy," Dean replied, he usually did pretty well with lying on the fly, he just wasn't sure where this tale would end up, "he attacked us."

"Where is he now, this guy who attacked your brother?" Steve looked nervous, giving their surroundings an examining stare, probably still expecting the assailant to come jumping out at them from behind the labyrinth of wrecked cars. It had the EMT worried – if there was an attacker with a weapon on the loose they could all be in danger.

"Gone," Dean lied like a trooper, not going into any further details, not until he could think of any at least. "He's long gone." Squished like a bug actually…

"And the house, over there? It have anything to do with you two, or the guy who attacked your brother?" Trent motioned to what remained of Bobby's home, now a smoldering shell.

"Huh?" Dean had almost forgotten about Bobby's place. "Oh, hell. Bobby!"

"Bobby?" Steve queried, trying to piece the story together from Dean's blubbering. "The guy's name was Bobby? He set the place alight and hit your brother?"

"What? No!" Dean snapped back. "No, it's umm, it's Bobby's house," he sighed.

"And where is he? Where's Bobby?" Steve probed.

"I don't know. Don't know where he is," Dean admitted, letting a grimace of pain slip past him. His head was starting to throb, along with his leg and his side and his back and… crap, he hurt all over! And just thinking about what may have become of his pseudo father only compounded his agony. The very thought of Bobby being incinerated somewhere in the now burnt out shell of his house terrified him, "he wouldn't answer his cell…"

"Ok," Steve paused whilst trying to get the story straight in his head, "so that's Bobby's house, only Bobby's missing? And some guy attacked your brother. But how'd the house get torched?" The paramedic seemed extremely anxious, what with the possibility of both an arsonist and an attacker on the loose.

"I don't know," Dean admitted, "it must have been the same guy who attacked us."

"We're gonna have to call it in," Trent said quietly to Steve before he turned away, his attention returning back to Sam. Trent wanted to be out of there, and fast, and not just for the sake of his still unconscious patient.

"What?" Dean arched up, grabbing a hold of Steve's sleeve, "Call who?" He imagined the worst suddenly – that these two were also Leviathan. However logic kicked in and he realized that if they were, neither he nor Sam would still be breathing.

"It's ok. We're just going to give the local PD a call," Steve informed him, releasing Dean's grip. "See if they can find this Bobby guy."

"Police?" Dean started to panic. In his line of work the local law was never an ally. In fact they were usually chasing his tail for some kind of infringement or another. Damn it, he'd caused this, said too much. If only he was thinking straight. "Why? We didn't…"

"I'm not saying you guys did anything, but your brother has been attacked, this friend of yours is missing and his house has been burned down," Steve explained, "We've really gotta notify the authorities."

"Oh?" Suddenly Dean felt as if the world was caving in around him. Everything had gone completely sour! Fucking Winchester Luck, it figured: of course the EMTs wanted to call in the police… and it was no surprise that Sam was out for the count… and naturally he was all busted up… and Bobby… shit, bloody Bobby… not only was his house a pile of ash, but Bobby was gone! And why the hell not, freaking Cas was! Why the hell should he have anyone left in this god forsaken world? Not when there were organ-eating, shapeshifting Leviathan roaming the streets…

Could things get any more fucked up, seriously? And he couldn't do a damned thing about any of it. He was freaking useless. Everything was already screwed to hell, the last thing they needed was the police stirring things up as well.

"Sherriff Mills," Dean muttered. He obviously wasn't getting around the police being called in.

"Huh?"

"She knows Bobby," Dean explained, "call Sherriff Jodie Mills," because she knew exactly what they did and how important it was that things be handled under the radar. "Can you call her?" Dean wasn't quite lucid enough to recall that Sheriff Jodie Mills had only just been sprung from Sioux Falls General by Bobby, after having an appendectomy. She was the whole reason they'd all split up, and the whole reason they knew something was up at the hospital. If only he'd have considered the fact then and there he may have been able to spare himself and Sam a few problems later on. But Dean's only thought at the moment was to ensure Sam was safe.

"Ok, ok, I'll see if we can get in contact with her." Steve nodded, reaching for his two-way radio, however before he could relay anything in to his dispatcher Sam started to come around.

As far as Dean could tell, Lucifer was playing havoc with Sam's reality again. Sam began dragging himself away from the paramedic, panting in terror so much he was practically hyperventilating. "No, no, you're not here! Leave me alone you asshat!" Sam yelled, flinching every time the EMT tried to lay a hand on him."Fuck off, you son-of-a-bitch!"

"It's ok, Sam," Dean called out to his brother, hoping to ground him back into reality. Last thing they needed was Sam blabbering about Lucifer and hell, or the leviathan. Sam probably had enough problems right now without everyone thinking he was some sort of loony psychopath. "Sam, I'm here, calm down, it's ok!"

"Leave me alone! You're not real… you're not!" Sam screamed.

"It's ok, Sam. I'm here, it's me, Dean!" he called to him desperately.

"Hey Dean, is there anything we need to know about Sam?" Steve queried, looking exactly like he thought Sam really was a loony psychopath. "Any medical conditions, mental problems, previous ailments, allergies, especially to medication?"

"He's not crazy!" Dean immediately replied, "he's just confused, it must be the blow to the head."

"Yeah probably," Steve appeased him, but still did not look any more convinced. "Any problems with any medications?" he asked again. Both paramedics glared at him, waiting impatiently for a reply. "Dean?"

"What? Umm." Dean had to think for a moment. He was pretty sure they'd tried every damned drug known to mankind at some time or another – and some not so well known (and totally medieval) – without any serious side effects. Maybe there had been some projectile vomiting, weird hallucinations, and there was some weird itching once and a week-long coma-like thing, but that was all from hoodoo, witchcrafty stuff, and Samuel's vampire cure – nothing these guys were likely to carry. "Umm, no," Dean eventually replied.

"Ok, good." Steve muttered something to Trent, who nodded in agreement with whatever was said.

"You're in the cage, you asshole!" Sam maneuvered out of Trent's grasp and was likely to be back on his feet in an instance – head trauma or not. "I put you back in the pit!" The younger Winchester was about to unleash his inner hunter survival instincts on the two unsuspecting paramedics and it wouldn't be pretty!

Dean had to get back to Sam. His delusional baby brother was looking like he was ready to outright kill the EMTs with his bare hands. Dean realized he had to calm Sam down, and now, before his little brother went entirely postal. Because he was the only one who could stop him.

"Ok Sam, everything's gonna be just fine," Steve muttered, catching Sam's fists before he could take a swipe at either EMT, however Sam continued struggling to free himself from his firm grip with red-blooded murder in his gaze. Dean was pretty sure Trent was trying to inject the delusional hunter with something, only the endeavor didn't go down so well for the EMT. Sam threw a hefty right hook at Trent, and the syringe and Trent were sent flying. Steve pounce on Sam, somehow managing to pin him down, probably only because Sam was injured. Chances were it wouldn't last for long.

Dean knew he had to get himself to Sam's side, somehow, before another ambulance was needed, or worse, a coroner. However getting to Sam required him to have to shift his leg and squirm around and when he attempted the task the maneuver didn't fair too well with his throbbing limb. As he pushed himself backwards, his injured leg shifted in entirely the wrong way and he cried out in agony with the sudden shock of pain, a sensation almost forgotten amid his concerns for Sam. In that brief instance, pain, pain, PAIN exploded into his being and overwhelmed all other thoughts and sensations. Dean cried out in agony, clutching at his knee, just above the site of the intense stabbing ache, trying desperately to stave away the looming sense of oblivion.

He failed…

TBC