Hey guys!
THANK YOU for all the nice reviews. I got quite a lot of them (to my standards =P) so thanks! Here is chapter number 7. It's short, I know, but don't worry! Chapter 8 will be up later this evening. So enjoy this short one for now. I'll do my best to keep the story interesting. I hope you guys still like it!
Bye!
Ellyn
By the time John heard the sirens, he'd already gone frantic. He was trying hard to stop the blood flowing from both Deans side- and shoulder-wounds. He had not even noticed that the fire that was consuming parts of the hall by now. The flames were crackling, but John only had eyes and ears for Dean. The limp form in his arms did not move. Dean was even barely breathing.
"Don't leave me, please Dean, don't go. I need you. Sammy needs you, come back!" John commanded. It did not have the effect it would have had if Dean'd been awake.
"Sir!" someone shouted from the door, "Sir!" John looked over his shoulder and noticed two fire-fighters standing in the doorway. They were fully dressed in their uniforms. "We'll get you out of here!" Both of them carefully made their way towards John and Dean. The taller one of the two tried to pull John away, but he wouldn't let him. "Dean first!" John coughed. He had not noticed all the smoke before, but he did now. The fire-fighter shook his head: "No sir, we'll come back for him. You can walk." But John still wouldn't move: "I am not leaving without him!"
"We can't move him without a stretcher sir," the smaller fire-fighter told him.
"Then fetch one!" John commanded. The men gave up. They looked at each other, desperate. One of them finally nodded and took off. John hoped he was getting that damned stretcher. The other guy stayed with him and Dean.
"Is there anyone else out here?" he asked John. John considered not telling them about Lucas, but he changed his mind almost immediately. They could find him later, in the ashes of the building.
"Yes, the guy who ambushed us. My son was attacked by him and he… he's dead," John admitted. The fire-fighter only nodded and gazed at the door. Half a minute later, a whole bunch of people emerged from the door opening, holding a stretcher. John sighed relieved as they started to pull Dean onto it and made their way outside. Small and Taller stayed with him and helped him up, leading him towards the door. Outside, an ambulance was waiting for him. But John did not care about himself, he only wanted to know about Dean.
"Where is my son!" he boomed, looking around him.
"They took him to the hospital immediately," a medic told John as he walked over to assess the latter's wounds. John wanted to shout, but started to cough some more instead. Someone put an oxygen mask against his face. "Calm down sir, you won't help your son by choking yourself. Everything is gonna be fine. Relax, breath!" the medic urged. John sensed that the man was lying. He wanted to know, he wanted his son to be safe. Mary would never forgive him if he let Dean die. Sammy wouldn't either. 'Oh god,' John thought, "Sammy! I need to look after Sammy!" he shouted.
"Who's Sammy?" the medic asked calmly. Behind the man, a police officer showed up, listening to what John had to say.
"My son, my other son. He is alone, we should've been back by now, he will be worried," John rambled. The medic looked over his shoulder at the police officer, and the man nodded.
"Sir, police department," the man told him kindly – flashing his badge, "Can you tell me where I can find your son? We will pick him up and make sure he's ok. We'll bring him over to the hospital."
For once in his life, John felt like he wanted to kiss a cop. He gave the man the address of their apartment and watched as the police officer drove away.
"Now, we must get you to the hospital," the medic declared. John suddenly was drawn back to the hard reality after feeling the joy of making sure Sam was alright.
"Dean…," John stammered, but then he could say no more as the medic drugged him. John passed out cold within seconds.
