Inside the operating room the steady bleeping of machines filled the air. The doctor was frantically putting more blood into the patient before him; he had never seen someone so badly…torn up. That didn't even begin to cover it, though. Flayed alive was a closer description of the wounds before him.
"We need to stabilize this patient, STAT. Type and cross-match but for now more O neg. And get plastics on the phone ASAP!" the doctor hollered at the retreating nurse. Another entered with a 'whoosh' of the doors. "What do we have here, doctor?" questioned the new arrival. He looked down at the patient and gasped. "Holy shit! What the hell happened to this guy?" At that moment the nurse who had left returned with more blood, plasma, and the head of plastics.
"Damn! Did that dude get road rash or was a lawnmower involved Mason?" commented the plastic surgeon.
"Shut the hell up Freedberg and tell me what needs to be done to fix his back," snapped Dr. Mason.
"Skin grafts, and lots of them. Plus, there's always a chance of rejection too. We gotta talk with the family, who is this mess?"
"No clue, someone pulled up to the ER with him in their car. So I guess it might be a case of hit and run…nurse, I need some gauze, let's get this wound covered before it gets infected."
Suddenly the machines began to beep with crazy fury. "Asystole! We got a flatliner here on our hands people. It's hypovolemia; the blood volume has decreased too much. I need some epinephrine and quickly cover those wounds."
The nurses and doctors in the room worked with fevered efficiency to save the young man's life. Once Dean was turned from his back chest compressions were started. Dr. Mason wheeled a defibrillator into the area.
"That won't do you any good if he's in asystole," said Dr. Feedberg.
"It could be fine ventricular fibrillation," Dr. Mason got out the paddles, "Charging…Clear!" He placed the paddles on Dean's chest and the sadly beaten body jumped when the electric current hit him. "Still asystole. I'm gonna try to shock him again."
"You know it's not gonna work."
"Just give me one more shot at this before I crack his chest open," he panted as he continue chest compressions while the defibrillator charged. When it was ready he called again, "Clear!" Still, the young man he was working on did not respond. The doctor ran his hand across his face, "Ok…ok…scalpel."
Meanwhile, Sam paced in the ER waiting room. During that time a nurse came and took down information about Dean and tried to figure out what had happened so they could treat him. Dean was in really bad shape and the nurse kept asking what had caused it. When she suggested a hit and run type of situation, Sam latched on to the idea and ran with it, saying that his brother and he had been walking to their car and Dean had been hit by another car that was speeding through the intersection.
"Ok, so what's the last name, please?" requested the nurse. Sam mumbled Schneiderson and then quickly redirected. "Can you please tell me about Dean? Is he gonna be ok?"
The sound of "code blue" find the halls and other medical staff rushed into Dean's room. "Oh, God, is he…is Dean?" Sam's eyes filled with tears and he stood motionless with the nurse, thinking about all that they had been through in their lives and what had led them to the ER this night.