It's almost funny that after everything the Winchester boys had been through, it is this scrawny kid who would end up doing such damage. The boy's small frame shakes as he holds out the nine millimeter glock. Dean stands with his hands up.
"Billy" Dean calmly inches closer to the child, "I'm not going to hurt you, we're here to help."
"Like you helped my mother?" Billy chokes on his words. "STOP! Don't you come any closer."
"She was possessed, kid. I'm sorry." Dean hadn't realized that the demon already killed the kid's mother when he and Sam exorcised the thing.
"Give me the gun, Billy.. I can take you to your dad's office. It's going to be okay." Dean moves forward half an inch, but the kid darts back even further away. Billy's not even twelve, and he's small for his age. Dean's brow furrows as he calculates a plan of action, but quickly dismisses most forceful ways to disarm the boy. He's just too far away, and way too twitchy. Who wouldn't be, Dean frowns as he remembers the exorcism just fifteen minutes earlier.
Sally, the kid's mom, slumped as Sam finished the Latin text he had memorized years ago. Dean hoped Sally died quickly and painlessly, but he doubted that was true. This demon was particularly nasty. Disemboweling people throughout the small town with no preference to age or gender was it's forte. No, Sally had not died an easy death. Dean released his hold on Billy as the exorcism finished. He moved forward to check for a pulse just in case. Nothing. Billy's wails filled the suburban home, the horrid scene standing in stark contrast to the pictures on the wall which harkened to a happier time. Dean left the room for what seemed like just a minute in order to call the kid's father. He spun as he heard a POP followed by a sickening thunk. He knew that sound. He could never mistake that sound. Gunfire. Dean spun and rushed into the room. Sammy was slumped in the corner with the the beginnings of one painful goose egg on his forehead. Dean exhaled, relief washing over him. The kid had missed and shot the antique frame from the wall, which fell and hit Sam in the head. Still nasty, but he'd recover.
Dean tests the water with Billy, again inching forward. Billy's fingers quiver on the trigger, but his aim is wobbly as shock causes his body to tremble more an more by the second.
"Billy, listen to me. I know what it's like to lose someone you love. To lose you mother." Dean grimaces at the memory, flashes of fire burn through his brain. "A demon got my mother too, kid. I know the pain of having your mother ripped away from you like this. You need your father, and your father needs you right now. Put the gun down, and we'll go see him together." Dean opens his palm and carefully, deliberately outstretches his hand.
Billy begins to lower the glock. It's halfway to Dean's hand when Sam stirs. The movement is slight but it is enough to rattle the traumatized kid. Things happen extremely fast then, but everything seems to slow down to Dean. Sammy's small movements as he awakens, Billy's shaky grip moving towards the disturbance, the flick of his trigger finger.. they all slow down in Dean's mind and he sees it all at once. He grabs the gun as it fires, ripping it from Billy's fingers as smoke pours out of the discharged firearm.
"I- I- I'm sorry!" Billy stumbles over his words as he trips backwards.
Dean's gaze falls onto Sammy, who is more than less awake now. And unharmed. Finally a break, Dean thinks as he reaches to pull Sammy up.
A searing pain jolts through him and Dean lets out a strangled cry.
"DEAN!" Sam quickly stands, grabbing the gun from Dean and setting it on a high counter. Dean's gaze falls to his shoulder, which is turning a deep crimson far too rapidly. His good arm reaches up to touch the dark red stain, and his fingers come away drenched. Well, this isn't good, Dean thinks as he suddenly becomes lightheaded and his vision blurs. He leans against the wall for support but ends up slumping down against it.
Dean blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision. A giant form that could only be Sammy nears with a cloth. Sam presses it hard against Dean's shoulder, causing his vision to turn black around the edges.
"Hold that there for me Dean. I'll be right back, I promise." Sam's voice sounds like it's coming from the other end of a tunnel.
"Yea, I got it.. get the kid." Dean's voice is breathy but stronger than he'd thought it would be.
Voices, one dark and one high.. are they arguing? For chrissake just get the kid to his room or to the car. He is getting too tired now. Dean tries to pull himself straighter against the wall but stops as he feels the rush of hot liquid flow more freely from his shoulder. It doesn't hurt so much, so that's good. No wait, maybe that's bad? Dean tries to remember.
The large figure is back, "Dean! Dean, come on open your eyes. I know how you feel about hospitals, but I'm making an exception." Dean's eyes open wide, his jaw clenches, but he relaxes as when realizes that Sam is right. He wraps his good shoulder around his brother, and grits his teeth as Sam lifts him to his feet and towards the Impala.
"S-story" Dean's voice is grittier now.
"Yeah Dean, I got it. We were in the woods for a hike, and some hunter must have hit you." Dean moans at Sam's words.
"It's thin but it'll have to do. You need a doctor." Sam says assertively, lowering Dean into the passenger seat that is so rarely occupied by his older brother.
"Dean, I know it's hard but you have to keep your eyes open, and keep pressing against your shoulder. Please, Dean... only ten more minutes." Sam tries to keep his voice even, but concern makes it deeper and louder than usual.
Dean clings to consciousness, trying to focus on the little details of the Impala. The toy wedged in the door from when Sammy and he were younger and riding with their father. Sammy's knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. He must be bad off, Sammy can usually keep his cool. The slick patch on his shirt grows, his bleeding slowing slightly but not enough. Kid must have hit an artery. Dean hopes the boy finds his father, but he finds he cares less and less as his vision becomes strangely shiny, the dark edges becoming more prominent until everything looks and sounds far away.
"DEAN!" Sam cries, desperation laden in his voice. Dean mumbles what he means to be Sammy's name but is actually just meaningless, jumbled up syllables. His eyelids droop.
Sam slams the brakes as he veers into the ER drop off zone. "HELP! Somebody help my brother!" Sam rips Dean's door open, and nurses shout for a doctor and a gurney as they see the state of Sam's brother. Dean is pale now, too pale.
"Be careful with him!" Sam chokes out as the ER attendants and nurses lift Dean onto a gurney and wheel him in to the hospital.
"We've got him, we're going to do everything for him. We'll send somebody out to keep you updated." A male nurse says curtly but not without compassion. "Someone get him some ice!" Sam tries not to throw up as he sees the crimson pool left on the Impala's seats. He takes the icepack from the ER attendant. He had forgotten about his head wound. His hand shakes as he brings the icepack to his forehead.
Two hours later, and Sam is ready to punch a hole through the wall of the waiting room. He can't wait any longer. He's about to charge through the double doors that lead to the trauma rooms when a white haired doctor approaches him.
"Sam Hagar?" the doctor asks. Sam nods, biting the inside of his cheek and drawing blood as he searches the doctors face for clues to his brother's state.
"I'm Dr. Thurgood. Dean's out of surgery. He needed several transfusions, but he is currently in stable condition and his prognosis is excellent." The doctor barely finishes. As soon as Sam hears "stable condition" he moves past the doctor to the nurses' station.
"Where can I find him?" He demands of the nurse that originally spoke to him.
"Sir, he's just out of surgery and can't receive-" the nurse stops abruptly. The glare Sam gives him is enough to melt steel.
"Uh... well I suppose in this case..." The nurse placates Sam and guides him to a bank of elevators.
"Room 438, forth floor." He presses the elevator button for Sam, before giving him a ghost of a smile and returning to work.
Sam doesn't bother to wait for the elevator. He dashes up the stairs, his long legs taking them three at a time. He bolts through the door to the forth floor and wheels around the corner, flustering a few candy stripers as he finds his brother's room. Dean is sleeping, but damned if Sam isn't going to be there when he wakes up. He plops down on one of the chairs and takes in Dean's appearance. Still pale, but there is a little color in his cheeks. He winces at Dean's heavily bandaged shoulder. He'll get the good stuff at least, Sam's gaze trails up the IV bag that is sure to contain morphine. He leans back in his chair. His brother is going to be okay. He dozes.
"Yea I know, can you believe it? I'm the one who got shot in the friggin shoulder!" Sam jerks awake at the coarse yet familiar voice.
"Dean!" Sam smiles.
"Get enough beauty rest?" Dean smirks.
"Shut up." Sam says without any venom, "How are you feeling?"
"Couldn't be better, Shana and I were just talking about my war wound. Damn hunters." Dean's eyes graze up and down the leggy nurse's form. Yep, Dean was feeling better alright.
"You're really lucky, your brother got you here just in time" Shana's voice is breathy, and her eyes never leave Dean. Sam let's out a small laugh. Even shot and having almost bled to death, Dean's still reeling them in.
Shana smiles, and she returns to her rounds. Dean tries to sit up straighter, and winces. Sam darts over to help but Dean brushes him off.
"Go get my clothes, will ya? We're leaving." Dean moves slowly as to not jostle his shoulder.
"Dean you need-"
"Sam, we've got to go. How long do you think this 'random hunter shot me' story will fly with these people? Plus, we need to check on Billy."
Billy. Sam had almost forgotten in the turmoil. He had put Billy in his room, and left without another thought. Of course Dean would remember. He's always taking care of other people. Sam's thoughts wander to the night before, and he replays the scene in his mind. Dean had taken a bullet for him.
"Hey Dean" Sam says, his voice thick as he remembers the shot, "Uhh.. thanks for.. you know.. Thanks for getting the gun before the kid could.."
"Yea, don't worry about it. Of course" Dean says gruffly, uncomfortable with the way this conversation is heading. No chick flick moments. Regardless Dean can't help but give Sam a small smile as he remembers the relief he felt when he realized his little brother was uninjured. That was too close of a call.
Dean pops his head out of his room and looks both ways, ushering Sam forward when the coast is clear. As they make their way to the Impala, Sam is thankful that he thought to clean the seats while Dean was in surgery. Dean moves to the driver's side, covering up a wince with a scowl as he opens the door.
"Yea... Sam, it's your lucky day. You get to drive." Sam takes the keys and starts the car, the familiar rumble soothing any residual anxiety from their ordeal. He pops in Dean's favorite Metallica tape, and puts the volume up high enough to make him slightly uncomfortable, which was Dean's optimal level. You can't not blast Metallica after all.
Dean smirks, "Now that's what I'm talking about, Sammy!" Sam smiles widely. The gesture, though small, had gotten exactly the right reaction from Dean. The Impala's motor purrs as the brothers drive down the road, Sam carefully maneuvering so that Dean's shoulder isn't disturbed too much.
Dean moves his good arm forward, blasting the volume even louder. He sings along.
"Exit light enter night.. grain of sand.." Dean urges Sammy to join in. Sammy rolls his eyes, but there's a lightness in Dean's face that Sam can't say no to.
"Exit light, Enter night! Take my hand... We're off to never never land!"
THE END
Author's Note: Thanks for the prompt DeansBabyBird! I had lots of fun writing this story.