The Fight For Her Life
Chapter Six
"Come on, Lizzie. Small steps…You can do it. I've got you,'' said Sam as he helped Lizzie walk out of the motel room and across the parking lot to the Impala. "Sam…" Lizzie moaned as she held one hand over her stomach, as more pain attacked her abdomen like knives. "It hurts!" "I know it does, Lizzie. We're almost there. Come on," Sam encouraged. Lizzie took one more step, and fell to her knees moaning and crying at the same time, clutching her stomach and doubled over in pain. "Come on Lizzie," said Sam as he tried helping her up again, but Lizzie resisted. "I can't…I can't," she moaned, tears spilling down her pale face. Sam stared at Lizzie helplessly and looked over at Dean, who was in the driver's seat of the Impala, He appeared to be having trouble.
"Come on, Baby!" Dean growled as he turned the key in the ignition. The car engine spluttered and turned off. "Come on, Baby! Don't do this!" Dean pleaded as he tried again. Again the engine spluttered and turned off.
"Stay here for a minute, okay, Liz? HEY! CAS!" Sam yelled and Castiel ran over to him. "Stay with Lizzie for a moment okay? I'm gonna see if Dean needs help," said Sam. Castiel nodded and knelt down beside Lizzie and began to try and comfort her.
"What's going on Dean?" asked Sam, walking up to the Impala. "Ugh! The damn car won't start! I'm sorry Baby!" said Dean a minute later, rubbing the dashboard lovingly. "I didn't mean it!" Sam laughed slightly. "Aw crap! You've gotta be kidding me!" said Dean.
"What?'' asked Sam. "We're out of gas!" Dean groaned. "Are you kidding me?" asked Sam, disbelieving. "Yeah! I thought I filled the tank this morning!"
"How could we be out of gas?" Sam wondered aloud. "Beats me,'' said Dean. "What do we do?" asked Sam. "We can't go anywhere if the car won't run."
"Go back into the room and stay there till we work out a plan, I guess," said Dean. Sam nodded as he walked back over to where Lizzie was still on her knees on the asphalt, doubled over and clutching her stomach, Castiel rubbing small circles into her back.
"Car's out of gas," Sam informed Castiel. "We can't go anywhere if the car can't run. Got any spare angel mojo, by any chance, Cas?" he asked hopefully. Castiel shook his head sadly. "I can barely teleport anymore, Sam, I'm sorry," said Cas, and he truly looked it. "It's okay,'' said Sam, smiling understandably. He then put his arms around Lizzie and attempted to get her back on her feet, but like before, Lizzie resisted, saying it hurt her too much to make even the slightest movement. Sam, then put one arm around Lizzie's waist and the other under her legs, and lifted her off the ground easily as though she weighed ten pounds rather than a hundred and eight, and carried her back into the motel room.
Once they were inside, Sam set Lizzie down on his bed once more, and Lizzie immediately curled up into a fetal position, moaning, and clutching desperately at her abdomen.
Dean came in a few moments later. "What now?" asked Dean. Sam shrugged. "Dunno,'' said Sam. The situation did seem hopeless with the car out of gas and Castiel unable to teleport. To make matters entirely worse, the nearest hospital wasn't for miles! The town that they were staying in was a ghost town – old buildings, no residents – nothing.
Sam sighed and stared over at Lizzie as she clutched at her stomach, moaning in pain.
He walked over to her, and knelt down beside her and held onto her hand, muttering comforting words to her.
Lizzie had begun to shiver. "Are you cold?" asked Sam. Lizzie shook her head, "M'fine,'' she moaned. "Liar," said Sam, smiling slightly, pulling the covers out from under Lizzie's body and draping them over her. "Thanks," "Sure,'' said Sam, brushing her sweaty outgrown bangs out of her face.
Even with the blankets covering her, Lizzie continued to shiver, which didn't go unnoticed by Sam He rummaged in his duffle and found a small box of matches.
He walked over to the dusty, spider infested fireplace and lit a small fire, in the hopes that it would bring some comfort to Lizzie.
"How far is the nearest hospital?" asked Sam, trying not to sound desperate. "More than an hour away,'' said Dean sadly. Sam groaned. How the hell were they going to get Lizzie to a hospital? Dean immediately flipped out his cell phone and called the first person he could think of: Bobby Singer, a fellow hunter, and the closest thing he ever had to a father.
"Hello,'' came Bobby's gruff voice after the phone ran twice. "Bobby?" asked Dean, not bothering to mask the worry in his voice. "What's wrong?" asked Bobby, sounding worried too. "Bobby, it's Lizzie,'' said Dean. "She's sick – really sick….Bobby I don't think she's gonna….."
Dean looked at Sam who had tears in his eyes as he shook his head at his older brother as if to say 'don't say that!'' "Lizzie needs to get to a hospital now, and we have no way of getting her there. The Impala's out of gas,'' said Dean. "What about Cas?" asked Bobby. "He can't do anything,'' said Dean sadly as Cas gave Dean an apologetic look. "Where are you?" asked Bobby a moment later.
"We're in Missouri,'' said Dean. "Balls!" Bobby growled. "Dean…." Lizzie moaned. Dean looked over at Lizzie who by now was struggling to remain conscious due to the pain, and was beginning to hyperventilate.
"I gotta go – sorry!" said Dean as he hung up the phone. "How you doin' Liz?" he asked gently kneeling down beside her. "Not good,'' Lizzie moaned as she sighed. "It's over,'' Sam frowned, looking confused. "Lizzie, what are you…?" he asked. "It's my fault,'' Lizzie moaned. "I should have come to you guys when I first noticed that I wasn't feeling good, but I decided to be stupid, and ignored it, and now look at what's happened!"
"You didn't know,'' said Dean consolingly. "I'm gonna die, Dean,'' said Lizzie. "I can't be moved, I can't walk on my own – nearest hospital isn't for miles – I'm done for, and you can't do anything."
"Elizabeth Scout, you stop talking like that!" said Sam fiercely. "Sam…" said Lizzie. "Unless you've got any better ideas….."
She moaned and rested her head on the pillow as Sam stroked her forehead. Dean got up and motioned that he wanted to talk to Sam and Cas alone for just a moment.
Sam moved to stand up, but Lizzie grasped his hand as if to say 'don't leave'.
"Dean just needs to talk to me for a moment," Sam reassured her. "I'm not leaving the room, I swear.''
Lizzie nodded as Sam walked over a considerable distance across the room to talk to Dean. "What do we do?" asked Dean. "Lizzie's right, we can't take her to the hospital – not with the car broken down, and Cas fresh out of angel mojo…" "What are you suggesting?" asked Cas. Dean shrugged. "I don't know what to think right now, Cas,'' he said honestly.
"Say she does have appendicitis, and I'm betting she does,'' said Sam. "Me too,'' said Dean.
"What are the treatment options for appendicitis?" asked Sam. "Antibiotics," said Dean. "But that's for less serious cases, and I doubt you can get those at Walgreens." "What else?" asked Dean. "Surgery," said Dean. There was a pause. "We could do it ourselves,'' he suggested. Sam stared at Dean. "No! Absolutely not!" said Sam. "Sammy…" said Dean. "I'm not letting you perform amateur surgery on my girlfriend!" Sam hissed.
"What other choice do we have, Sam? Do you want Lizzie to die?" asked Dean. Sam's chest clenched painfully and his eyes began to sting at the thought of Lizzie dying. "No,'' said Sam. "But…" "Well?" asked Dean. "The car isn't gonna run, Cas is out of angel mojo – We're kinda out of options here!"
"Dean, please…" Sam begged. "Got any other bright ideas?" asked Dean. Sam went over to Lizzie's purse (she had put an Undetectable Extension Charm on it), and began rummaging through it to find something – anything that might help the situation. Sam felt the soft sleeves of blouses, heels of shoes, leather spines of books, and then something cold as he pulled his hand out of the purse. It was the jar of moonshine that had been given to them when they first arrived in town.
All at once reality seemed to hit Sam like a blow to the head. It really did seem like they couldn't do anything to help Lizzie without the car running, and they were in a part of the country where they had the worst cell service, so there was no chance they could call for an ambulance. Unless they got her help soon, Lizzie would die. Frustration, worry, and fear consumed Sam, and in the mix of all these emotions he threw the jar of moonshine angrily into the fireplace. The jar shattered and a huge fireball ignited, nearly setting the room on fire. For a moment, both Sam, and Dean stared at the fireplace, shocked at what had just happened. Then they exchanged shocked and perplexed looks. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Dean. "That we can use the moonshine for fuel for the Impala?" asked Sam, starting to smile. "Yeah!" said Dean. "Only one problem though,'' said Sam. "That was our only jar."
"We'll ask the dude at the front desk if he has any more!" said Dean. "Sounds good to me,'' said Sam. "Cas, watch out for Lizzie, okay? We won't be gone long,'' said Dean. Castiel nodded as Sam and Dean walked out of the room, shutting the door behind them.
SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN
Sam, and Dean raced into the lobby of the motel and skidded to a halt in front of the front desk. Sam slapped the palm of his hand on the tiny bell on the desk over and over. A few minutes later the elderly man appeared from behind the desk. "Can I help you two boys?" he asked. "Yes, sir. Do you have any more moonshine that we can have?" "Oh, of course!" said the man, smiling. "Follow me,''
The man led Sam and Dean to a vault-like room back behind the front desk. Stacked to the ceiling were shelves upon shelves of moonshine. Sam and Dean began to take as many jars as their arms could hold, and they were just about to turn and walk out of the vault when they were stopped. The man that had shown them the vault was holding a shotgun in his hands, and was pointing it straight as Sam and Dean.
SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN
"Whoa! Whoa!" said Dean, sounding startled. "Just take it easy, okay? Put down the gun." The man smirked. "I'll surrender this gun when you surrender the one you boys have," he said. Sam and Dean exchanged perplexed expressions. "What are you talking about?" asked Sam. "I know you boys have the Colt,'' the man said. "How would you know that?" "An outside source told me," the man replied. "Demons?" asked Sam. "The point is I've been looking for that gun for years, and let's face it, there's no reason or anyone should know that this exists at all."
Sam and Dean were quiet. Here they were being held at gunpoint, while Lizzie was back in the motel room, in agonizing pain, and possibly dying. All Sam wanted was to get back to her.
"We can't give you the Colt,'' said Dean. "It's one of a kind."
The man's smirk widened. "I know,'' he said gruffly. "That's why I want it."
Sam and Dean exchanged glances. If their situation wasn't hopless enough before, it sure was now! Now they had to choose between Lizzie's life and the Colt.
But then, Sam remembered something. Back when his father John was alive, he had tried to trick some demons by giving them a replica of the Colt. It was a fake, but a very convincing one. What if, by some miracle, they still had it?
"You didn't think I'd let you leave town with the Colt did you?" asked the man slyly. "You syphoned the gas out of my car?" asked Dean, outraged. The man nodded. "I had to keep you boys here somehow,'' he said.
"Please,'' Sam begged. "My girlfriend is dying! We need to get her to a hospital…." "Give me the Colt, and I'll let you be on your way,'' the man said.
"We can't do that,'' said Dean. The man shrugged. "It's your choice,'' he said. Sam and Dean exchanged desperate looks. They needed to take Lizzie to a hospital, and this man was holding them unless they handed over the Colt.
Then, Dean had a sudden idea.
"Okay,'' said Dean. "We'll give you the Colt. It's in my car," he said. "Go get it then,'' said the man, as Dean walked out of the hotel lobby.
Sam stared as he watched Dean walk out the door. "Please," Sam begged. "My girlfriend is dying! She needs to get to a hospital! Why do you need the Colt?"
"I told you,'' the man said. "I've been looking for the Colt for years,"
"Are you a hunter?" asked Sam. "I'm not at liberty to discuss that,'' said the man as Dean walked back into the motel lobby with the Colt in his hand. "Here," said Dean. "Now can we please go?"
"Go on then,'' said the man, putting down his shotgun and taking the Colt in his hand, examining it, a gleeful expression on his aging face.
Sam and Dean gathered the jars of moonshine in their arms and quickly left the motel lobby.