Tires screamed as they were pushed further on the pavement.
Gunshots skipped on the top and the side of the Impala.
Dean kept his eyes forward, letting nothing distract him from his current goal: Getting Sam to safety.
He swerved around the bend. The tires slipped and the side of the Impala scraped the guard rail. Burning red sparks flew up and over the car. Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he guided the car further away from the side of the road. The road was clear from there, and at that moment Dean realized they had escaped. They had gotten away. Of course Sam was still sick, he was still hurt, and as of right now he was still unconscious. That was the bad part of this situation.
There ain't no hospital 'round here for at least 200 to 250 miles, Dean recalled them saying.
"Damn it," he says aloud. He wasn't sure how much more of this Sam could take, but what choice did he have? He has to at least try to get Sam to the hospital. There was no way in hell Dean was just going to sit here and wait for someone to happen to find them.
Above, Dean seen storm clouds heading their way again. Another storm was coming.
Well how friggin' awesome is this? Dean thought, rolling his eyes. That's not what Sam needs right now. What the hell? At least wait till we're at the hospital to start storming…
At that moment, Dean heard a huge boom and he knew it was thunder rolling their way. By the second, the street got darker. Not too dark that he couldn't see the road head of him, but too dark for 1:39 pm. Wind picked up speed and smacked the side of Dean's car and the side of his face. The broken window allowed all of the outside elements to travel inside. Dean grunted in frustration.
Well fuck you, too, Mother Nature.
Dean's clicked the button for his headlights to come on, but only one did. But even that one worked poorly. The accident had really did a number on the front of the car, luckily it was not too damaged and it still ran.
In the rearview mirror Dean looked back at Sam.
He lay in the back seat. His left hand was pressed over his head and placed loosely on the door just under the window. Sam lay with his body angled at Dean. His face showed peace as he let the fever and the weakness from the growing infection on his head take over his body. That's exactly what he needed, though. He just needed to rest.
At that moment, the rain came. It was light and didn't effect things much but soon it will make the roads slippery and the air thick and hard to see through.
Dean continued down the road and his mind went to a place he never wanted to go. He started questioning himself.
What if I did something wrong? What if I did something to hurt Sam, too. Maybe I moved him too quick; Maybe I moved him too much…
And that Fran bitch. What the hell did she do to him? She said she just wanted him as a son, but so did Dad, and we all know what that turned out. What if she did to Sam what Dad did?
Dean's hand ran through his hair.
Oh God, she better not have. If I find out she or one of her fucking sons touched Sam, I'll kill them.
Dean's foot pressed harder on the gas pedal.
God, I hate people! What can't they all just leave us alone? What type of sick, fucked up world do we live in when kids aren't even safe with their parents anymore. What type of sick, fucked up world do we live in when fathers can't keep their filthy hands off their sons? It's disgusting! I don't understand…
Dean looked up again and into the rearview mirror. For a second or two he watched Sam sleep.
I could never do that to him. I would never hit him like that. And there's no ay in hell I'm touching him the way Dad did. I could never hurt Sam. I would never hurt Sam.
Dean shook his head.
Never…
Dean sighed, at that moment he felt lost.
The rain began to let up and he seen that as his moment to change his clothes and actually put clothes on Sam.
Dean pulled over to the side of the road and got out. He went to the truck. It was stuck momentarily, but Dean got it open eventually. He went through Sam's bag first . He found him boxers, jeans, and an undershirt. He figured it didn't make sense to give him a real shirt when the people at the hospital are just going to take it off anyway.
Dean walked over to the backseat of the car.
He opens the car of the side where Sam's legs are. Dean pulls the white and blue towel from around Sam's waist. Quickly, Dean pulls on Sam's boxers. He throws the towel in the trunk, hopefully it will help the police find them. Next, he lifts Sam's lower half and gets his jeans on. With that, he heads to the other side of the car where Sam's head is. Dean lifts his head and sits in the back with Sam. He unravels the tank top and pulls it over Sam's head.
Feeling the shirt sting the gash on the side of his head, Sam moans, trying to move his head away.
"Shh, Sam. It's just me, okay? It's alright," Dean says before lifting both his arms and pulls the shirt over his little brother's torso.
Dean gently lays Sam back down and goes back to the trunk. He reaches down and goes through the front pocket of Sam's bag, looking for something helpful His hand smacks something hard and cold. He grips it and look at it.
Sam's cell phone.
"Yes!" Dean cheers. At that moment he doesn't know what it was. Maybe it was the relief of finding the phone or maybe it was the situation finally setting into him but he felt extremely tired. So tired he literally felt like he couldn't stand anymore.
He staggered over other the backseat of the car again. He lifted Sam's head and took a seat, letting his head rest in his lap.
Dean opened the phone and instantly dialed Bobby's number. He didn't even think about it, it was just natural, especially when they were in trouble. He dialed and put the phone to his ear.
It rang a few times before stopping.
"Hello? Sam?" Bobby's voice answered.
Dean sighed in relief.
"Bobby! Thank God."
"Dean? Dean, is that you?"
Dean could feel his head fall back onto the seat. Boy, he was tired.
"Yeah Bobby. Listen, you have to help us…-"
"Where are you?" Bobby asked. In the back ground Dean could hear things being moved around. That told Dean that Bobby was already one step closer to finding them.
Dean shrugged. "I- I don't know. Bobby, but you have to listen. My Dad-"
"I don't give a rat's ass about your father right now. I care about you boys. Now where are you? Dean, where are you?"
"I don't know, Bobby. I honestly have no idea. I'm sorry."
Dean heard Bobby sigh. "Calm down," he instructed. Dean took in a deep breath. "How's Sam?" Bobby asked. Dean could hear a bit of fear in his voice.
Without moving his head, Dean looked down.
"Not good, Bobby. He's really not doing well. I don't know what to do… please come get us," Dean pleaded.
Within the last few minutes Dean had found himself in a panic. He suddenly didn't know what to do. All he knew was that he needed Bobby, and he needed him now.
"What's wrong with Sam, Dean? What happened?"
Dean sighed again.
"We were in a car accident. But before that he was sick, and now that lady put stitches in his head and now I think it's infected" Dean stammered.
"Lady? What lady?"
"Fran," Dean answered, looking down at Sam.
"Who's that?"
Dean shook his head. "That's not important right now. I'll tell you when you find us. Please, find us."
There was more movement in the background on Bobby's end. " I will, try not to worry. But tell me about Sam, what's exactly wrong?"
"He's got a fever, Bobby. A really, really high fever. I can't get it down, it seems to keep getting higher. And after the accident he seemed worse."
"What about his injuries from the car accident? Is anything broken?"
Dean sighed, he hadn't even thought to check him for anything broken. Damn it, how stupid.
"I - I don't know. I hadn't had time to check. They kept us apart the whole time."
Bobby grunted. "Well check now."
Dean, doing as he was told, ran his hands down Sam's neck. Everything felt fine. He gently pressed over his chest and down both arms. They seemed fine. Dean pushed lightly down his ribs.
"Ah," Sam cried out when Dean's hand pressed on his stomach.
Dean's hand jerked away. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry," Dean apologized.
"What happened?" Bobby asked, hearing Dean talking to Sam.
"Something not right. His ribs, I think. Maybe one's broken or fractured or just bruised. I don't know."
Dean heard a door slam. Bobby's door.
"Alright. What about his breathing. How's his breathing?"
Dean looked down, and listened.
"It's fast, really fast. But they're short, like he just ran a lot or something. They're not even though, I hear something. Like he's congested or something." Dean tried to explain. But nothing was making much sense to him right now. This wave of sleepiness was really taking everything out of him.
"Dean? Dean, what's wrong? What's wrong with you?" Bobby asked, he could hear Dean's voice slowing and his voice getting softer.
Dean was silent. He let his eyes begin to close.
"Dean!" Bobby yelled into the phone. "Answer me. Dean!"
Dean's eyes opened a little.
"Tired…Bobby, I'm tired…"
Bobby sighed.
"Dean, listen to me. I know you're tired, I know all of this is exhausting, but you have to stay awake. Do you hear me? Dean!"
Dean's head went back again. He couldn't do it.
There was a beeping in his ear. Dean took the phone away from his ear.
Low Battery! Please charge! The phone read.
"Dean! Wake up!" Bobby yelled into his end of the phone.
Dean's eyes closed.
"Dying…," he began, his voice soft and slow.
"You're not gonna die, Dean. You and Sammy are gonna be just fine. Don't talk like that. Please don't talk like that," Bobby says.
Dean shakes his head.
"No," he corrects, " Phone's dying. It's gonna turn off."
"Damn it," Bobby cursed..
Dean sighes, combing his fingers through Sam's hair.
"You have to keep talking though. Dean? You have to keep talking, tell me what you see."
Dean doesn't answer. He could feel the phone beginning to slip from his ear.
"Dean! Open your eyes and tell me what you see!" Bobby commended, trying to keep the younger man talking.
"Trees, Bobby. All I see is trees."
Bobby shakes his head. "That doesn't help," Bobby says under his breath.
"What about signs. I know there's signs around you. There has to be."
"Uhm.." Dean groans.
The phone beeped again.
Low battery! Please charge!
"Bobby, the phone…"
" I don't care what the God damned phone says. What signs do you see?" Bobby says, his voice stern.
Dean's eyes open for a second, in the distance he tried to read the blurry sign.
"I think it says 'Patterson Rest-Stop, 55 miles'"
"Alright. How about then you left your house, which way did you go?"
Dean's head falls back again.
"Right," he answers softly.
"Did you go on the highway?"
"Yeah…"
"What exit did you take?" Bobby asks, in the back, Dean can hear the hum of his engine, that only made him more sleepy.
"43..."
"That's good, Dean. Just keep talking okay. You can do it. Then which way did you go?"
Dean groaned a loud . This was too much, his eyes were getting heavier. He couldn't stay awake much longer.
"Dean! Which way did you go?!"
"Straight…just go straight. Please find us, Bobby. Please…"
Sam's cell phone slipped out of Deans hand and fell onto his lap.
"Dean! Dean, wake up!"
He couldn't do it, Dean's body finally relaxed and he let the darkness take over.
"Dean! Sam! Some one answer me! Dean?"
The phone beeped.
Low battery! Please charge!
"Dean! Wake up! Dean…" Bobby's voice faded away. It was drowned out by the rain and the whipping wind and roaring thunder.
Low battery! Please charge!
The phone beeped again.
"Dean! Damn it, Dean. Just stay strong, I'm coming for you…"
The phone flashed one more time before going black, and cutting off Bobby's only connection to his boys.
Was that a cliff hanger?
Oh look at that, I guess it was. XD
hahaha !
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