"I know," Sam replied. "Dean will be back any time then we'll get you settled."
"I should be in a hospital." The pain from Nick's head, legs and other injuries was curiously remote. He had a feeling that that wasn't going to last long once they started moving him.
"Yes, I know." Sam tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. Worry for Dean was making him irritable as was the whole situation. "If we could we'd take you there."
Relief flowed through Sam. There was Dean at the side door, bracing against the wind and swirling snow. Dean made his way back toward the car.
The driver's door opened, emitting cold and swirling snowflakes. Dean reached in and turned the car off. "Ready?"
"Any time," Sam responded. All ready at Nick's head, Sam waited for Dean to carefully take his legs and then his knees when Nick sent immediately white. As gingerly as they could in the blizzard conditions, the Winchesters trekked through the snow drifts to the nearest door. Darkness had nearly descended. The interior of the house was even darker. Dean led his younger brother to the living room and the crackling fire without incident.
In the dim light from the fireplace, Sam made out a couch that had seen better days along with other scattered items. In the fireplace something that looked suspiciously like a chair leg was merrily burning away.
Dean helped Sam set Nick on the couch and then he headed back outside in the failing light. They were going to need stuff from the car if they were going to survive the night.
Barely conscious, Nick was partially aware of Sam shifting the couch closer to the fire. A particularly strong jolt as the couch leg caught on an uneven floor board sent radiations of pain through his head and leg. Sucking breath between clenched teeth, Nick fought to remain conscious.
Oblivious, Sam moved the couch the last few inches until he was satisfied that Nick was as close as he safely could get. Behind the younger Winchester, the window rattled faintly in the wind. A small bank of snow grew in the window's farthest corner.
Sam's breath fogged every time he took a breath. Ignoring the cold, he knelt down beside Nick now that he wasn't crumpled in the back seat. Immediately Sam noticed how pale Nick was and how cold to the touch. And yet a cold sweat had broken out on Nick's forehead. Sam paused to glance out the window to see where Dean was before turning his attention to Nick's pants leg.
Out of the back of Sam's pants, he pulled out a sheathed knife. Taking the cover off, Sam quickly split the denim to get a better look at Nick's wound. Beneath Sam's chilled fingers he could feel Nick's muscles tighten under his ministrations. It kind of gave him the willies. "Sorry," the youngest Winchester mumbled.
Unable to bear the searing pain any longer, Nick grabbed hold of the couch back with one hand and the ratty cushion with the other. His eyes were tightly closed and his teeth ground to keep from screaming.
Dean came back into the living room and ditched several bags. Before anything else, he used a large bag of salt to pour lines of the white crystal across every threshold. Satisfied, Dean caught up the first aid kit and headed over to his brother.
"Thanks," Sam said as he accepted the metal box. "Can you get me a little more light?"
"Sure." In a matter of moments Dean had a propane lantern lit and held it over their charge. "That any better?"
"Yes, thanks." Sam instantly lost himself in cleaning the jagged gash as best he could. Within two minutes Nick lost his battle and slipped into oblivion. There was only so much a body could take.
"Do you know what you're doing, little brother?" Dean asked as he watched. Sam poked and prodded in his ministrations.
"No. Does it really matter?" Sam shot back. He really wasn't in the mood.
"We don't need him suing our asses," Dean responded.
"Nice, Dean," Sam muttered. As ugly as the jagged gash was at least it was currently clean. Cautiously, Sam untied the tourniquet to see how badly it was bleeding. With bated breath he waited half expecting blood to come squirting out like a Monty Python movie. Seconds ticked by as a small pool of blood began to gather at one end of the gash. Happy that Nick wasn't going to bleed out, Sam caught up the sterile need and sure out of the kit. Lastly, he pulled out the needle driver and then he began to sew.
"That's disgusting, dude." Nick couldn't help himself. They usually went to the hospital when they were injured. He had no idea his brother could do this without hurling. "You've been watching too much ER."
"At least I pay attention when they sew me up. Do you think the salt will work?" Sam was trying to distract his sarcastic brother. His hand shook enough without the extra scrutiny.
"Probably not but it doesn't hurt to try. I'm going to go pull the doors off some of the rooms to use as barricades." Dean set the lamp down on the broad couch arm. He grabbed a hammer and crowbar from one of the bags and headed into the gloom.
"Even that may not help us." Sam looked out the window at the darkness beyond. A shiver travelled up his spine. In the lilac hedge that surrounded the building he could have sworn he saw yellow eyes looking back at him.
"Do you have any crosses?" Nick asked weakly. He'd been awake during part of the surgery but had managed to stay still and quiet while Sam finished. The inexperienced young man had been nervous enough all ready.