Through the haze of half-consciousness I heard a quiet argument rising over the opening notes of 'Ace Of Spades'.
"You know it's her favorite." Dean said, his voice hushed, and I turned my head toward them. Trying to force my foggy mind to focus.
"Right now I really don't care. I'm so sick of Motor-head." Sam replied, and suddenly the music stopped. I sighed softly, rolling onto my back slowly, wincing. My body ached, the gashes along my back and ribs stinging. But that was my favorite song he just cut off. Sam shoved another cassette into the tape deck, and some slow, whining, boy-band started to croon out of the speakers. Dean groaned, disgusted.
"Dude." he complained.
Slowly, because it hurt more and more each second, I reached up and gripped the back of their seat. Struggling slightly with muscles too sore and damaged to want to comply, I pulled myself upright. My eyes narrowed, and my face pulled up in pain. Then my expression dissolved into a 'Murder-You-Gruesome'. I didn't turn my head a moment, studying him from the corner of my eye. Dean watched with an entertained expression on his face. Sam looked satisfyingly uneasy. Which made me want to grin. I still had it.
"Hey...Ace." Sam said softly, hesitating mid-sentence as he glanced at Dean and then back at me. I didn't reply, but my eyes tightened. Suddenly I didn't feel so hot. My stomach turned over and my breath shortened. The boys frowned, taking notice.
"Sam...what is that?" I demanded, my voice rough. I pulled in a harsh breath and leaned toward their seat-back, my grip tightening until my knuckles went white. I turned my body toward him, slipping my feet off the seat.
"Um..." he trailed off, confused, and glanced at the radio. Gritting my teeth, I stood, leaning over the seat and giving the volume knob a spin. The music dropped to a barely audible whisper in the background. Cautiously, I lowered myself to the seat, gingerly leaning back and letting my head drop back.
It wasn't quiet for five seconds before the music was suddenly blasting out of the speakers. I winced. Clenching my jaw I snapped my arm out, catching Sam between the shoulder blades with my knuckles.
"OW! What the-?" he snapped, turning to glare at me. I stared back at him, miserable.
"It hurts to move Sam. Please don't make me get up again." I begged him. He didn't move, his brow slowly pinching in a frown. But Dean reached over and gave the dial a spin. The music quieted and I closed my eyes. Sam shifted and turned it up again. I sighed, my eyes opening halfway.
I stared at the ceiling as a back and forth started up between them. Sam turning the music up, Dean turning the music down. I could only imagine the epic bitch-face he was giving his...our...older brother.
Finally I couldn't take it anymore, and it wasn't even the music that I got tired of. It was the fight. With a sigh, and a grunt of pain, I shoved myself over the back of the seat. Mashing the eject button so hard my finger bruised, I snatched the tape and chunked it out Dean's open window. Dean jumped in surprise, and Sam thumped my shoulder with a whiny, "Hey!"
"Problem solved." I ground out, and let myself drop into the back seat. I landed with a hiss and clutched at my side, now flaring in pain. My back gave a similar flare and I let out a tiny pained noise, my breath uneven.
"Dean." I heard Sam say softly, his voice alarmed. And Dean breathed out a curse. The car slowed.
"Ace?" Sam said a little louder, and I looked at him, grimacing.
"Yeah..?" I replied, and my voice came out weak and breathy. My heartbeat pounded erratically in my chest, and my breaths came shallow, no matter how hard I tried to take deeper ones.
"You're bleeding." he said, and I nodded, figured.
"Yeah..." I said again, and took my arms away from my torso to unzip my jacket. When I opened it up, I bit my lip, and Sam cursed. Blood seeped through the holes in my shirt, the skin tattered underneath. He turned, reaching over the seat and pressing my jacket against the wound. I yelped, the pressure multiplying the pain I was already in. He breathed an apology and glanced at Dean over his shoulder.
"Pull over!" he pleaded.
The Impala bumped to a stop on the side of the small farm road, and Dean climbed out of the driver's seat, running to the trunk. I watched him go, and then turned to Sam. A chill was working it's way into my hands and feet, and my head felt light. It hadn't taken me long to realize I'd been bleeding since the vampire's lair. Most of the blood had soaked into the jacket, but a lot of it had just fallen to the floor of the car, pooling in the mat. Draining through the bolt holes in the steel undercarriage.
Dean reappeared at my door, wrenching it open with a creak and dropping to his knees next to me. In his hands was a metal first aide box. He set it on the ground next to him and nudged Sam's hands away from me. Gingerly, he opened up my jacket front. Then he swore and pressed his fist to his mouth.
"Jesus Ace..." he breathed, and I bit my lip.
"M'sorry Dean. I din' think it w'so bad." I murmured, my words slurring, my voice breathy. He shook his head and forced himself to smile at me.
"No. No, it's okay. You're gonna be okay. We'll patch you up." he replied, reassuringly. I nodded jerkily, closing my eyes against a wave of nausea and dizziness.
Sam climbed into the back seat, settling next to me and helping me sit forward. With his help, I peeled off my blood-ruined jacket. When they saw the gash across my back, I heard them both swear, blowing out harsh breaths.
"Looks like it's not as deep." Sam murmured, helping me sit back again. I whimpered as the torn muscles in my side ached and twisted. Dean gripped the ruined edge of my shirt and ripped it. I realized, a little too late, that this was going to be awkward for him. After all, my anatomy was a tad bit different. But his face remained stoic as he parted the fabric and surveyed what he had to work with.
And then it hardened. By the way his mouth twisted I knew he wanted to curse again. I looked down, reaching up to press a hand to my side, just shy of the edge of the bloody mess. Which really was all it was. There seemed to be more exposed tissue and blood than skin. My jaw clenched and I dropped my head back against Sam's arm. There would be no "Patching me up", because there was no skin there to patch it up with.
"Sam, hold on to her. We're goin' to the hospital. She checks out on the way, you let me know." Dean said hurriedly, he grabbed the first aide kit and shut the door, running around the car and climbing back into the driver's seat, tossing the metal box into the seat next to him.
Sam's arm came around my shoulders, pulling my body against his chest. I felt a flare of pain, and let out a small noise, but I was barely there anymore. The combination of blood loss, shock, and not enough sleep had me reeling. My vision tunneled in and out, blackening around the edges. There was a ringing silence in my ears, and my breath sawed in and out of my chest like something solid. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep my lungs working, it seemed.
The car hit a pot-hole, and the backseat bounced, hard. My body jarred painfully, and I yelped. My hands sought out something to cling to, and landed on Sam's jacket sleeve. I clutched at it, my eyes clenched shut as I gasped, pain lancing my gut in waves.
"Just hold on Ace, we're almost there." I heard him say, and I tried to nod. My head jerked forward, and then fell back again. My grip started to loosen as the feeling started to leave my hands, and I lost my focus on making my lungs work. I gasped noisily, falling against his side bonelessly. He grabbed for me, his free arm curling around my torso.
Faintly I could hear him calling my name, and I tried to look up at him. My vision blurred, but I could just make out his face, pulled up in fear and worry.
"S...Sammy..." I breathed, and my heart pounded suddenly, slow and difficult. I clenched my jaw, my eyes squeezing shut, and whimpered.
And then I felt like I was falling, and all around me it was dark.