A Hunter's Doctor
"Dean!" Sam called. He ran to his brother who had been flung across the room, barely giving another glance to be sure the thing was really dead this time. The first time they had thought it was dead, it simply morphed from the young blonde woman it took up for appearance to its real clawed beast form.
From the time Sam had managed to get the creature off his brother, Dean had managed to get himself halfway into a sitting position and made the remark, "What a bitch! What the hell even brought it here? I thought it was supposed to be Greek!"
"Doesn't matter right now. It's dead," Sam replied, tired, worried, and frustrated as he reached his brother, "Next time, by the way, don't chat it up."
"I was trying to distract it," Dean protested and waved off Sam's worried look, insisting as he went to get up, "I'm fine, Sam. You okay?"
With the slightest roll of his eyes, Sam answered, "I'm fine." He pushed his brother back down to the ground. Dean had a nice gash just above his eye, but Sam's biggest concern was his brother's right leg, which had three long, jagged, and bleeding claw marks, with…Sam couldn't help, he had to laugh. Only Dean. But, he tried to be serious, meaning it as he said, "You, on the other hand, shouldn't move."
"Sam…" Dean started to protest, then looked down, "What…?"
Lodged in his brother's leg was what currently looked like a stripper trying to dive further into the wound. Looking around, Sam noticed two other similar structures hanging overhead that appeared to be decoratively placed around a metal pole, but with a hook or two for jewelry.
"I think it was…" only the fact of just how badly Dean's leg really was screwed up kept Sam from completely laughing, "A jewelry hook," He continued, serious, "Now, the fact you're still talking is good-for once-but, we don't know how close to an artery it is and…"
"Alright, college boy. How about you shut up and get me home and we'll take care of it."
"You're not listening to me, Dean," Sam replied, going to pick his brother up. He needed to get him to the car with the least aggravation.
Except, he should have known Dean wasn't having any of that, "Whoa! What do you think you're doing?! I can walk!"
"Dean, if that thing moves…"
Dean cut him off, "You're not carrying me."
Sam sighed. Though it was against his better judgment, he knew his brother and the chances of him winning this argument were slim to none without him knocking Dean out. That would solve nothing. It was more important to get help. "Fine." It took all of one second of Dean struggling to get up for Sam to lend him a hand—or arm. Sam knew the glare Dean sent him was more petty defiance of a serious injury than anything and ignored it, particularly as his older brother offered no further protest.
The two of them slowly made their way through the woods, Sam trying not to send too many searching glances to his brother, knowing it would only garner further protest.
By the time, they had gotten to the Impala, Dean had given up on the notion of walking on his own; he was a little paler than Sam would have liked, but still tried to lead Sam to get Dean to the driver's door.
"You're kidding. No way, Dean. I'm sorry. You've already walked on that leg. I'm not letting you drive."
"Sam, I…" Dean protested weakly. He saw the infamous pout on his brother's face and tried once more, "But, you can't…" He sighed, relenting, "Fine. Just don't screw her up."
"I won't," Sam promised.
Driving for a few minutes, it was actually quiet before Dean piped, "Uh, Sam. Where are you going?"
With one breath, Sam answered, "Maggie."
"Maggie? Maggie Delton? No, Sam, she's a hunter. We can take care of this. If Gordon can piece this crap with the demon blood together…Not to mention…"
Sam decided not to argue with his brother over that at the moment, insisting, "She's also a doctor, Dean, and you need help. I think she'll be fine."
Looking ahead, Sam groaned, deciding to barrel through the yellow light at the last moment to at least prevent any other cars getting ahead of him in the traffic they had just reached.
"Oh, good," Dean protested, "You see. What did I tell you? This is why we don't bother. Just turn around now and we'll take care of it at home."
Sam muttered, "A motel's not home."
Dean heard him. "It is to us." He pleaded, "Sammy, come on."
Sam wasn't giving up, "Can you trust me on this or do I need to call Bobby?"
In a microsecond's opening as Sam cut across two lanes of traffic to get to a better lane, Dean answered, "Well I certainly don't trust you to drive!"
Sam laughed for a second before suddenly exclaiming, "Son of a bitch!" The last thing they needed was the downpour that just decided to open up.
"That's my line."
Sam remarked, "You're not the sole owner of it."
"Of course of I am."
Sam just shook his head. As long as his brother was being a wise ass and complaining, Sam could just barely keep himself from panicking, a nagging voice starting to tell him that maybe Dean had been right. But, he knew he wasn't. Either way, they weren't getting anywhere. He jammed the horn, joining in a rising chorus of other cars doing the same.
Dean grabbed his head, "Why did you do that, Sammy? You know as soon as one starts, the others don't shut up."
"Yea," Sam answered, "Like you wouldn't do the same."
"No, I'd be mowing those cars down if they didn't move out of the way," Dean answered a little more weakly than Sam cared to hear.
Sam nodded, "Alright." Forcing himself to trust his driving skills despite Dean's protests and ignore the rain, Sam stomped on the pedal, weaving through the traffic, no longer hearing the horns and fingers directed at him as he surely cut some people off.
Dean grabbed the interior handle of the Impala wide eyed, "Sam!"
"You asked for it," he glanced back over to his brother. His leg was beginning to swell, but so far looked at least free of infection and, for the moment, Dean no longer looked like he was going to pass out.
Dean, of course, noticed his brother's worried glance, "Don't worry about me, Sammy. 'Sides, I've got company, remember?" he glanced at his leg. "I'd really rather you worry about not crashing my baby."
Sam sighed. The jewelry piece was one thing and he really didn't know what to say about that; but to the last line, if he didn't know it was a joke, he'd shoot back about Dean's callous disregard of his own safety. For now, the torrent had abated to a gentle rain and Sam had somehow managed to get past the traffic. That should have been good, except it meant Dean no longer had much to worry about and was looking more and more out of it.
"Hey, Dean," Sam called, "Stay with me."
"Mmhmm."
Frowning, Sam was relieved when he saw the green road sign almost overgrown by the trees on the dirt road turn off that lead to Maggie's.
It wasn't much head's up, but Sam dug out his phone to give her a call, wishing he'd thought of it sooner and praying she wasn't busy. After three rings, she picked up, "Maggie. It's Sam Winchester. I'm two minutes away. My brother, Dean, has got well, something, in his leg after a lamia-it's, yeah, okay-tossed him into a wall.
"Thought they were Greek?" he heard her question.
"Yea, we don't know why it was here. "
"Alright, Sam," he heard her reply, "I'll be ready."
"Thanks, Maggie."
