Title: In Another's Eyes

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A migraine, a vision, a mysterious killer and Dean may just lock Sam away in Bobby's cellar to keep him safe whether he likes it or not. post 2x11 "Playthings" hurt/comfort/awesome!Sam/Dean

Author's note: This chapter? Either very good or potentially dull. LOL I haven't made up my mind and no…I'm still not done. Another chapter to come after this. Heh. The seven chapter One Shot.

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D – Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P

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"Dean, wha'?" Sam asked and grunted in surprise and pain when Dean turned him and tipped him over a shoulder. The sudden change in position rushed what little blood he had left into his head and he lost his battle with consciousness.

Dean moved as quickly down the steps as he dared with his brother perched over his shoulder. He slowed at the bottom of the stairs and brought the gun up. The front door was standing open. The light from the street lamp outside showed dark, glistening drops leading in across the hall and outside.

"Nice shooting, Sammy," Dean said softly with a grim smile. He decided to save time and follow the same path out the front. He reached the Impala and pulled the back door open, lowered Sam down and awkwardly pushed him in across the seat. "Hang on." Dean pulled of his leather jacket as he went around the other side, opened the door, and folded it up under his brother's head. "Just hang on, Sam." He closed his eyes for a moment at the sight of his little brother's too-pale, too-still face and blood-soaked shirt. Choking back the fear that threatened to overwhelm him, he slid behind the wheel with eyes watching for every twitch of shadow on the dark street and didn't feel better until the Impala's engine was rumbling beneath him and taking them away from Marie's house.

CHAPTER 6

Dean pulled up at a stop light down the road from their hotel and turned to check on Sam behind him. "Hey, kiddo. You still with me?" He pulled Sam over and moved his jacket aside to get another look at his shoulder and scowled. The bullet had taken Sam high in the shoulder. It looked to have missed everything vital but was still bleeding through the hasty bandage Dean had put over it. Add that to the post-vision nosebleed Sam had suffered and his little brother was far too pale for his liking and deeply unconscious.

"Dammit." Dean made a decision as the light turned green and headed for the coroner's office instead of the motel. "Time to take Dr. Rascal up on his offer of help."

He might have considered taking Sam to the nearest hospital, but with a member of the local police force on a murdering spree, there was no way he could trust they'd be safe there. He drove with one hand over the back of the seat on his brother's neck, his fingers resting lightly on his pulse. It was weaker than it should be and his breathing was shallow which made Dean press a little harder on the gas.

He pulled up finally behind the coroner's office and parked in the lot next door behind a semi. Dean wanted to hide the Impala from the police station that sat in the same building. He got out and pulled open the back door to kneel by Sam's head, roughly pushing back the fear that seemed to clench around his heart seeing Sam so still…so pale…so…..No. He was not going there…not an option. Not ever. He shook it off and refocused on his brother.

"Ok, Sam. I really need you to wake up and walk in there with me." Dean gave him a gentle shake and was reward with a moan. "That's my boy. Come on, Sammy. Rise and shine."

"Dean?" Sam's voice was low, barely audible and heavy with pain and confusion. "Wha's goin' on?"

"Gonna get you fixed up, but I need you to get up on those flamingo legs. Can you do that?" Dean smiled when Sam nodded quickly. "Ok. Just let me get you up. Let me do the work. Here we go." Dean slid his arms under his brother and pulled as carefully as he could until he had Sam sitting and panting in the seat. "Easy, buddy. Breathe through it." He bent and pulled Sam's legs out, and then drew his good arm around his neck and wrapped his arms around Sam's chest. "Going up."

"Kay." Sam gasped as he was tugged to his feet and fought to keep his legs under him while the world swayed and darkened, threatening to take him back under.

"Take it easy." Dean squeezed a hand at the back of Sam's neck when his head thumped into his shoulder and grunted, taking most of his weight. "All you gotta do is get inside and down the stairs. You can do that."

Sam nodded into his brother's shoulder and took back some of his weight. Raising his head was a massive effort, but he managed and then focused all his attention on the burning pain in his shoulder, letting it ground him. "I'm good. Le's go."

Dean shut the door and got them both moving around the semi and to the building. He scanned the parking lot and the area with acute paranoia that fifty cops could come pouring out any time to arrest them for shooting a fellow officer. He breathed a relieved sigh when they got inside the building without being seen. Good thing for them it was after midnight. He just hoped the doctor would still be down there. If not, he'd be raiding the medical supplies.

Sam looked up and around as they shuffled down the stairs and his eyes widened. "Dude." He stumbled to a stop at the bottom and glared over at his brother. "M'not dead yet."

Dean chuckled and shoved him into motion again. "Obviously, if you're quoting Holy Grail." He hitched Sam's arm up higher on his shoulder with a smile. "Doc said to come back if we needed his help. We need him." His smile faded as he looked at Sam's translucent, bloodless skin. "Didn't wanna transfuse you in a damn motel room, dude."

"Oh." Sam nodded and let his head fall forward wearily. "Z'at why I'm so sleepy?"

"Yeah. No sleeping. You really need to work on keeping that red stuff on the inside." Dean pulled him to a stop at Dr. Rescal's office door and tried the knob, happy when it turned and he pushed it open. "I mean it, Sammy. No sleeping yet. You stay awake."

"Hello?"

Dean stuck his head back out the door and smiled as Dr. Rescal appeared out of a door farther down. "Hey, Doc. Remember when you said call if we needed anything?"

"Oh, my…what happened to him?" George jogged down to them and reached for Sam's other arm to help.

"Whoa, not that one, Doc." Dean warned. "He's, uh…he's been shot."

"Shot?" George's voice rose in surprise as he followed them into his office and then helped Dean lay Sam out on the couch. "Good God."

"He's lost a lot of blood." Dean caught his brother's head before it could flop back and eased it to the arm of the couch. "You still with me?"

Sam nodded and let his eyes close.

"Agent?" Dr. Rescal leaned over the young man and pried an eyelid up for a look. "I'm going to need you to stay conscious if you can. He should be in a hospital," He turned and whispered to Dean. "He needs a transfusion from the looks of this." He waved at Sam's blood-soaked left side.

"I know, but we can't." Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair, unaware of the blood spotting it from his brother and fixed the older man with a stare. "I need to trust you."

"You can, of course," Dr. Rescal said quickly and went to his desk, pulling his black bag out again. "Who did this?"

Dean sighed. "You're not gonna like it."

"I already don't like whoever did this to your partner," George said softly as he sat beside Sam again. "Help me sit him up so we can get these shirts off."

Dean nodded and moved Sam forward so he was sitting, wincing with each pained grunt as the doctor got his jacket and flannel off his left arm.

"We found out Marie had a crazy, obsessed, ex-boyfriend." Dean lowered Sam back to lie against the arm of the couch and kept a hand on his good shoulder. "Went back to her place to find evidence of the guy. We did."

"Shot Dean," Sam muttered, his head tossing as Dr. Rescal cut up the sleeve of his t-shirt to reach the wound. "Killed him."

"Dude. I'm right here." Dean leaned down where Sam could see him and tapped his cheek. "Sammy? He's a little out of it."

"Not surprised." George shook his head sadly as the bullet wound was revealed. "Through-and-through, so that's good. I won't have to go digging for it." He placed a gauze pad on the back of Sam's shoulder and another to the front and pressed, making him moan. "Sorry, son. Lay easy now."

"Can't you give him something for the pain?" Dean carded a hand through Sam's shaggy hair to soothe him.

George shook his head. "Not yet. He's lost a lot of blood. I don't want to overload his system. You happen to know his blood type?"

"We're a match. You can use me." Dean hooked a chair over with his foot and sat beside the head of the couch where he could keep a hand on his brother and an eye on what the doctor was doing. He pulled his jacket off and the shirt under it leaving him in short sleeves.

"What happened to you?" George immediately clamped a hand around Dean's left wrist and pulled it up, inspecting the bandages that wrapped both of his forearms.

"Uh, happened when we were saving the lady in the camping store today," Dean shrugged and pulled his arm free. "It's fine, Doc. Really. Nothing but scratches."

The doctor took Dean's arm again and scowled at him. "I'm looking. Deal with it."

Dean rolled his eyes and made himself sit still while George looked under the bandages on both his wrists and finally sighed and sat back. "Told you."

George smirked and nodded. "Well, given the way you two keep showing up on my doorstep, I had to check." He gestured at Sam.

"He's the one who's jeopardy-friendly." Dean snorted a laugh and made the doctor chuckle.

"Here. Keep pressure on this for a sec." George waited for Dean's hands to replace his on his partner's shoulder before he dashed out and down the hall. He collected the supplies he'd need to stitch the agent up and transfuse them and thought again that this was a mistake. If he were responsible, he would call an ambulance for the man right now. He paused with his hand hovering over the phone and then sighed. "Damn." The look on Dean's face assured him that would be a mistake. There was something he didn't know yet, and the man was obviously leery of telling him. He picked up the last of what he'd need and ran back to his office.

"How is he?" George asked as he pulled an end table with him and set it beside the couch before sitting next to Sam again.

"The same." Dean watched the doctor setting up various things on the little table - tubing, needles, gauze, disinfectant - and sighed. Donating blood always made his head hurt and Sam was going to need a lot of it.

George laid out a suture kit and soaked a pad in disinfectant. "Move the gauze and hold him down best you can while I clean these. Sam? This is going to hurt." He got the barest of nods and smiled. "Good man. Here we go."

Dean clamped his hands over Sam's good shoulder when he jerked as the disinfectant burned its way into the bullet wounds. "Take it easy, Sammy."

"Crap!" Sam's eyes flew open. "Dean?" He tilted his head and only then took a breath, seeing his brother's face hovering over his. He'd been floating in a nightmare where his vision had come true.

"Right here, kiddo." Dean smiled down at him. "You remember where we are?"

Sam looked over at George and nodded. "Still not dead yet." He closed his eyes on Dean's chuckle and gritted his teeth through the pain.

George smiled at the exchange and set the now bloodied pads aside. He picked up a needle and syringe and slid it deftly into the skin around the wounds. "Don't usually work on patients who are still breathing." He smirked up at Dean. "Don't worry. I was a damn good doctor once for the living."

"Why the change?" Dean asked, listening to Sam's breathing slowly ease as the local anesthetic took hold.

"Someone needs to speak for the dead too." George shrugged and picked up a suture. "You were telling me how this happened?" He raised his brows at Dean before bending to Sam's shoulder.

"Right." Dean tightened his grip on Sam's shoulder as the suture needle made its first pass. "We were at her house and found pictures of him, her ex. We recognized him." He paused and watched George. "We met him at the house that morning. He was one of the cops outside."

George's hand jerked and he stared up at Dean. "Are you serious? An officer did this?" He gestured to Sam's shoulder in complete dismay.

Dean nodded. "Near as we can figure, the guy went Fatal Attraction on her after she dumped him and started dating Mark Kennedy. He got the drop on us tonight." He shivered looking down at Sam and remembering the moment the guns had gone off and Sam had fallen into him. "Would have killed us if not for Sam."

"That's why no hospital," George said softly and shook his head. He bent back to his sutures. "Which one? Which officer?"

"Just like that? You believe us?" Dean asked, incredulous.

George glanced back up at him and then back to his work. "You're federal agents and it's kind of hard to dismiss the evidence in front of my eyes." He spared a smile for Dean. "So who is it?"

"A sergeant. We don't know his name yet." Dean growled. "Won't be hard to find though. Sam hit him. I saw the blood trail leading out of Marie's house."

George flinched again with shock and made himself finish the stitches before he sat back and looked up at Dean. "Sergeant? You're sure?" Realization rolled through him like an avalanche. "Oh, my God."

"You know who it is, don't you?" Dean's eyes pierced into his. "Tell me, please."

George took a deep breath to settle himself under Dean's scrutiny. "His wife is in the hospital right now. She was attacked at the camping store today."

"His…Anne." Dean rocked back in his chair as the pieces fell into place. "Holy crap."

"Yeah." George nodded stiffly and then shook himself. "First thing's first. Your partner needs blood now. Get comfortable."

Dean swallowed back the rage that made him want to bolt out of there and go find the guy, now they knew who he was. "He killed his mistress when she dumped him and then went after his own wife." He shook his head. "I just don't get people, man." He sat back and let the doctor hook up a complicated series of tubes to his arm and then to his brother's, grimacing at the bite of the needle and the feel of his blood pumping out through the tube and into Sam.

"We'll give him two units. That should bring his blood pressure back up where I'd like to be. You'll be a little light-headed for a while but you're big enough."

"You take as much as he needs, Doc. You hear me?" Dean said forcefully.

George looked at him thoughtfully for a second. "I think two will be sufficient. Can't have you passing out on me as well." He smirked at Dean, and patted a hand to his shoulder. "Only have the one couch." He smiled when Dean laughed and leaned over his partner. "Sam? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Sam responded softly, on the verge of sleep.

"I'm going to give you something for the pain." George smiled down at his bleary eyes. "It's ok for you to sleep now. In fact I'm ordering it."

"Thanks." Sam rolled his head over to rest against Dean's forearm where his brother's hand still clasped his shoulder and let sleep take him.

"How are you going to handle this?" George asked as he set the needle and painkiller aside and stripped off his surgical gloves.

"I'm honestly not sure." Dean looked down at the top of Sam's head. He was half-tempted to pack Sam up and just leave town but that was no good. His brother would still have to deal with the visions each time the sergeant killed someone. "It's our word against a local officer. Feds or not, that ain't gonna go over well."

George nodded sadly. "You're right, but the fact it's his wife in the hospital and his mistress in my morgue…Chief Jones won't be able to ignore that."

Dean heard the desperate need for faith in the doctor's voice and nodded for him. He didn't believe that, but obviously George needed to just then. "We'll figure it out."

A headache started behind his eyes. He started to raise a hand to rub at his forehead and smirked, realizing he didn't have a free one. His left arm was connected to Sam and his right was being used as a pillow.

"If you don't mind my saying…" George nodded to Sam and raised his brows. "You two act more like…brothers than partners." He looked down and picked at an invisible spot on his green scrub top. He looked back up at Dean under his brows, noting the wary surprise there. "Also, you should know I, uh…I checked you two out after Sam collapsed earlier."

Dean's face darkened and he scowled. "If this is your way of saying you're gonna call the locals and bust us, I will get Sam out of here before that happens."

"Whoa! Dean." George put his hands up in surrender, trying to placate him. "I would never do such a thing. Look." He sighed and lowered his hands. "Two things were very obvious to me the moment you boys walked in here. One, you're not the kind of federal agents I'm used to seeing; and, two, you're obviously working to solve this case." He smiled. "I'm not a cop, Dean. I don't have to play by the rules, strictly speaking, and given that it was you two who saved Anne Gatsby today, I'm inclined very much to trust you."

Dean studied his face for a moment and saw only honesty. He smiled. "Thanks, Doc. That means a lot."

"So will you tell me who you two really are?" George asked softly.

Dean smirked and shook his head. "Better you don't know. We do save people. It's kind of the family business."

"Well, I think you're going to be due some time off." George nodded at Sam. "That shoulder's going to need a few days at least before he can use it with any effectiveness again. Ideally, a few weeks."

"Right." Dean rolled his eyes and regretted it as his head spun for a second. "Time off ain't exactly in the cards, doc. Not for us."

"Put your head down. You'll feel better." George reached over and gave Dean's shoulder a little nudge toward the arm of the couch. "You still have about a unit to go. Go on."

"Ok, but only 'cause I'm tired," Dean said in a grumpy tone and set his forehead down to lean against the arm of the couch beside Sam's head.

George smirked and sat back again to monitor them. "Of course."

Sam slept, Dean kept his eyes closed with his head beside his brother's while the room gently spun, George watched over them both carefully with a hand around Sam's wrist monitoring his pulse, and so none of them noticed when the light in the hall outside the office flickered.

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To Be Continued…