Hell - Next Turn on the Right
Chapter Seven (final chapter)
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Sam put Dean's head into his lap and fished out his cell phone. "I'm calling the hospital, okay? Just hang in there."
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"No!" Dean tugged weakly at his brother's arm. "You fix it."
"Dean I have to. You're bleeding out."
"You can stop it..." It was just a whisper. "…don't want to go to hospital Sammy."
"I know you don't." Sam answered patiently. "But you gotta, bud."
"It'll stop... just stitch it up, and we're… good."
"Dean. No. You're really bad, man. I can't put this together." Sam tried to stanch the blood with the bed linen.
His brother hung on to his sleeve, eyes pleading.
Sam set the phone down a moment, still holding the cloth to Dean's back. He touched his brother's cheek. "Dean...listen to me. You listening?"
"Wha.. Yeah." He tried to nod. "Yeah..."
"Okay...you're hurt. I'm going to get you help."
"I don't need any other help..."
"I can't fix this. I'm gonna be right here with you. It's gonna be okay." Sam hit the speed dial.
Dean looked at him, a vague expression on his face as he licked slowly at his bottom lip. "Did he hurt you, Sam?"
"Shhhhh." Sam soothed before he turned his attention to the 911 operator.
Dean struggled weakly, alarmed. "Sammy? You okay?"
Sam ignored the question until he was finished with the call. "I'm fine. We've got you help. They'll be a few minutes is all."
Dean's head rolled against his shoulder.
"It's okay," Sam whispered more to himself than to Dean. "...not going to lose you again."
Dean patted his arm, no strength in the contact. "Still here Sam." He shuddered. "I'm cold..."
"Don't say that." Sam hugged him closer, leaning his head into his brother's.
Dean leaned into his chest, holding onto Sam's shirt with a bloodied hand. "Why is it so cold?"
"Because you've lost so much blood I'm guessing." Sam whispered into the mussed hair.
"Uh huh… don't go away."
"Of course. I'm right here." Sam tightened his grip again, strong and solid and sure. "I've got ya. Feel me? I'm right here."
"M hmm… would've liked to be your best man Sammy." Dean's speech was slurring, slowing.
"You are. You are." Sam assured, feeling the impending loss of his brother looming just ahead. "You're the best man ever. Every day."
A flicker of a smile played around his brother's mouth.
"Would've been so proud... See you with all your fancy friends. Little Sammy, done good."
"Knock it off. You're not going anywhere. Quit talking like you are."
Dean patted his arm, comforting. "What you did, gettin' out, was really brave y'know?"
"Shut up." Sam's jaw tightened.
"I wouldn't have had the guts." His brother moaned, shifting uncomfortably.
"Dean. Don't do this."
"Do what dude?"
"Don't bring up Stanford to me as your last words." Sam choked back tears. "Don't do it."
The words were hardly more than a sigh. "Not m'last words." Dean was painfully aware that, one way or another, his last words to Sam were fast approaching.
"Yeah. And you remember that." Sam said sternly, unaccountably stung by remembering his college years. The years he'd walked away from Dean. Back when he thought he could walk away. It was all bullshit. He was as stuck as his brother. Neither of them ever had a choice. Never had a chance.
"I was kinda jealous..."
"Of what?" The non-sequitur threw Sam off balance.
"Friends... never had any proper friends." There was almost a note of surprise.
"That's just the way we were raised. It's not your fault. Should've had a ton of friends." Sam huffed. "You of all people."
"Huh... m'not too good at stickin' around Sam."
"Yeah but if we did stick around. You'd be the most popular guy in college. Trust me on that."
Dean looked pleased, in a drowsy kind of way, even as he shook his head. "Only with the chicks, man."
"No. No with the dudes too. You'd probably have your own frat."
A smile this time, but a more definite head shake. "Nah. Me and Baby, we have to keep movin'."
"Yeah. Okay." Sam sighed. "Not gonna argue."
"I'd've come to visit you, y'know, in your big lawyer house."
"Yeah. I know." Sam gave a fond smile. "And try to bang my wife."
"Huh." A sloppy grin appeared. "No. Wouldn't bang y'wife Sammy."
"You would so hit on my wife. Don't pretend..."
"…flirt a bit, maybe." Dean leaned a little heavier against his brother.
"There you go." Sam replied, smiling at the admission.
"Can't help my naturally good looks man!"
There was an amused snorting laugh before Sam agreed. "No. You can't."
"You gonna go back Sam, after, hell...?"
The thought broke him. Sam let out a half-sob. "No." As if he could ever go back after what he'd been through. Ever.
"I want you to."
"Yeah. Well I don't want to."
Dean looked sorrowfully at him. "Would've been good to know one of us got out."
There was a long pause and finally Sam responded. His voice was flat and angry. "I'm going to hunt down the bitch that holds your contract and kill her."
Dean tried to pull himself upright, failed. "Don't you go there!" he growled. "You stay away from her!"
"Why?" Sam retorted.
"Why?" His brother winced, flopping back. "Don't make it all for nothin' Sam."
Sam didn't respond, but his face was set in stone. Set to something hard and unforgiving and not at all like Sammy.
"When... when I'm there, I just want to know you're safe. I NEED you to be safe."
Sam let out a long breath. "Dean, let's not talk about this right now."
"So when's a good time dude?"
"I don't know...when you're not bleeding out on my lap, probably."
Dean huffed at him. "Seems like a good time to me." He swallowed painfully. "I need a drink."
"I'm not getting up to get you one." Sam kept him cradled in the crook of his arm. "Plus you might need surgery. You need an empty stomach for that."
"Uh huh... kay..." His brother shuddered again. "I'm really cold."
Sam pulled him closer and started to rub Dean's arms to warm him.
A low rumble, more the sound of someone trying to stay conscious than have a serious conversation. "Hey, watch the merchandise... Sam?"
"What?"
"When they stitch me up, can we go somewhere, like really, I dunno, awesome?"
"Sure." Sam responded in a tone he would use to placate a child. "Sure, buddy."
"Where we're gonna go dude?"
"I don't know. Where ever you want." Sam's heart wasn't in it, but he wanted Dean to keep talking. "When you were a kid... musta been somewhere special you wanted to see."
"I don't remember. It was a long time ago, don't remember being just a kid much."
Sam winced at the statement. "Oh man... M'sorry... You should've had a better life..." he paused. "What do you want. Where do YOU want to go. Let's do what Dean wants for once, huh?"
Dean's eyes were glazed; he probably didn't realise he was speaking aloud. "I get to go where I want every day, dude, just drivin' Baby, some rock, with my baby brother."
Sam bit his lip, swallowed painfully. He could hear the wheels of the ambulance pulling in, felt almost guilty at how relieved he was that it was here. Not just for Dean's sake, for his own. He needed someone to take the burden off his shoulders. Give him a moment to think. To recoup.
"Thank god. It's gonna be okay. They're gonna take care of you. Want me to ride with you, dude?"
"Yeah... but Baby?"
"I can come back for her." Sam assured.
Dean nodded, his eyelids dropped. "O…Kay..."
Rough hands pulled Dean away and strapped him onto a backboard. Voices wafted through his consciousness. He could hear Sam answering questions, wasn't quite sure what they were. Someone slipped an IV into the crook of his arm, started a drip.
"Sam?" It was just a moan of air.
"Right here." Sam said solidly.
The straps tightened a little more around Dean's chest, secure, minimizing any movement.
Dean's eyes flew open, he cut of an involuntary whimper, muttered something at one of the technicians.
The EMT leaned down to hear him. "What's that, sir?"
"My brother... you gotta check him out, arm…"
The EMT patted Dean's shoulder. "We are. Don't worry."
Dean looked relieved, letting his eyes close.
Sam took Dean's hand in his for a moment and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll take care of you."
"I know you will Sammy. Y'always do."
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A few hours later Sam was in his customary position in a hard plastic chair at the side of his brother's hospital bed.
Dean looked at him, the ghost of a smirk on his face.
"Cheer up dude. I'm okay. All stitched up, see?"
He gestured at the white dressing, just visible around the curve of his lower abdomen.
Sam sighed, not convinced.
"Sam!" Dean sounded slightly exasperated. "I'm okay, really." He pointed to the bag of fluids dripping slowly into his arm through an IV. "I was just running a little low on oil. They've plugged the leak. Soon as I'm topped up, we're out of here." He frowned. "We need to find Bela. Get the Colt back."
Sam nodded, resigned.
There would be no more talk of a road trip to somewhere "awesome"; there wasn't enough time left.
After all, Hell was the next Turn on the Right.
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The End.
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