The Road So Far:
And that was, when bright headlights caught his attention between the silhouettes of trees.
Sam stopped, panting. Squinting at two bright beams coming closer fast.
CHAPTER 8
Sam was clinging to the phone as if it was his lifeline. Somehow it literally was. Blood smeared across the bright display.
Blood-soaked clothes clung to his aching skin. The only warmth he felt was from his burning, bleeding wounds.
The tortured man felt consciousness draining from him.
But he fraught. He knew he needed to stay awake for this. Sam had to stay until Dean would get to him. He needed to.
SPN
„Guess we found him.", Bobby leaned forward, making out a tall figure in the distance.
The closer they came, the more they could make out in the darkness.
When they only were a few feet away from the swaying man, Dean jumped into the breaks, letting the tires screech. The car hadn't entirely stopped yet, when he applied the handbrake.
The phone slit from Sam's hand, shattering when it hit frozen ground. He felt his knees buckle. Relief soaked through him. Making him feel all warm and cosy. Sam swayed, tried to catch himself from doubling face forward onto the ground.
That was about the moment he felt darkness claw its way into his mind.
„Sam?!" Dean Winchester ran. Then he was right up in Sam's personal space just in time to catch him, before he could hit the hard concrete. He cradled the man in his arms and went down with him slowly.
Foggy hazel-eyes stared up at him. „You came"
„Told you I'd come." A mixture of worry and anger flooded the hunter, mirroring in his roughed up voice. He brushed a dark-brown- sticky bang of hair out of Sam's face.
The younger man's skin felt clammy, cold sweat on damp skin. „Hold on. - We're getting you somewhere warm. Patch you up."
A figure appeared behind Dean, carrying something.
Dean grabbed the pile of fabric Bobby handed him.
„No hospitals.", Sam mumbled. „No hospitals." That one thing, that might was one of the most important right now. „Promise me.", he breathed.
The hunter and Bobby shared a weird look. Usually it was for hunters to try and not cross paths with authorities.
„I can't promise what I may can't keep, Sam.", Dean's voice was even, soothing. He threw a blanket around Sam's shoulders, tugging him in.
SPN
It took them longer than Dean had expected to get the giant into the backseat and back to Bobby's.
Dean's motel-room wasn't set up for someone hurt this bad.
Bobby would set up the basement and might as well would call Ellen.
Ellen once had been a paramedic, before she joined the hunter's life. If Bobby wouldn't be able to get this sorted out, surely Ellen would.
The basement wasn't only specially warded. The room could be used as whatever you wanted or rather needed.
There was a bad-ass-arsenal of weapons down there. All tiled floor and walls. Medical devices of all kind and meds, may only a surgeon knew.
Robert Singer was always prepared. Just in case.
SPN
They dashed through the front door of Bobby's house in a hurry. Dean cradling a nearly passed out Sam in his arms, carrying him straight to the couch in the living-room
„I'll go get the basement ready.", Bobby's voice was heard from the hall, echoing down the corridor .
Dean laid the man down gently.
Sam's head lolled to the side. His breaths raged but even shallow somehow.
Now, in the bright light, Sam looked like he got chewed on pretty well. Blood all over him. Clammy, ashen skin. Bruised cheekbone, split lip, even more bruises the further Dean's look traveled down the limp body.
Something tore at him, warned him not to get Sam unpacked and his flannel opened up. He wouldn't like what he'd get to see.
He felt sick. So sick. He felt like throwing up. At the same time he also felt like breaking down Bobby's entire furniture.
„First things first.", the hunter muttered to himself, his own shaking hands covered in Sam's blood. It had already dried up a bit, itching on his skin.
„Sam. You with me?" He tried to asset what they had on the plate here, by taking in the man's body.
„Yeah.", it wasn't more than a breath.
„That's good. You're doing good.", Dean praised, trying to keep Sam with him and at the same time get the needed things done. „Keep your eyes on me."
Sam obeyed.
He really tried to follow Dean's fast movements. Tried to keep an eye on him as required. His vision was blurry and foggy. And by now, he only wanted to sleep. Fall into a deep slumber and never wake up again.
It didn't even hurt anymore that bad. Actually, all the pain started to fade into nothingness.
„It doesn't hurt anymore", his voice was low and almost inaudible. He sounded weak, ready to pass out anytime soon now. „Not that bad anymore."
Dean got the scissors. „That's fine." He knew it wasn't. But then again, did it even matter right now? Sam wasn't a talker, he wasn't a talker. „You should've called me sooner, baby boy.", his voice was a soft rumble.
„Couldn't." It took Sam some time to process the other man's words. „Was MIA."
„Funny." Dean started with the sleeves, cutting them up to his neck carefully. „At least you're talking. Telling me things. - Wouldn't talk to me as much before."
Most of the bleeding seemed to come from a wound near Sam's chest. Dean couldn't tell, since his clothes weren't ripped. Looked like Sam himself or someone else had clothed him after he's been out.
„You gonna tell me who this was?", Dean's voice carried away softly. „The guy from earlier?" He figured there couldn't possibly be that many sick bastards around in Sioux Falls.
„Guys." Sam swallowed, his lips dry. „Yeah."
„The ones that beat the crap out of you earlier? Wiped you?" Dean had to be sure of it. Because he was going to find them. And he was going to do things to them no human could ever possibly imagine.
The hunter shook his head, took in a deep breath. He exhaled, put the scissors aside and started to peel off the front of Sam's shirt carefully.
The young man hisses at the burning sensation. „Yes."
Blood. So much blood.
Dean spotted delicate – still bleeding – cuts on Sam's stomach, too much to count. A deeper one he couldn't oversee right beside the man's bellybutton.
Some of them looked like they've been induced by a blunt blade. Other ones by a sharp one.
There was an eagerly bleeding stab-wound to the left side of his chest – right where he had memorized Sam's scar from back then.
He laid a clean towel over Sam's torso, and a folded blanket, before he'd move down to his jeans to unbutton them. Suddenly there was a trembling hand on his. Weary eyes meeting his gaze, pleading not to.
„It's okay." Dean's voice was so soft, comforting. He himself didn't even know he was capable of sounding like this. „I'm gonna get you out of those."
Sam closed his eyes for brief moment, steeling himself. „There's a bad cut. Right Thigh."
Dean got the hint. „I'll be careful."
Bolting from the basement, something shattered. A gruff course was heard.
Sam twitched.
„I didn't clean up.", Sam exhaled deeply, trembling. There were a couple of things he needed to tell Dean.
„We're gonna clean you up." the hunter went on, cutting open the jeans legs.
„No … at the warehouse." He swallowed thickly. „I took one down."
What explained why Sam wouldn't want to have a hospital involved. They'd ask questions, inform the authorities. And he took one down.
On the other hand, Sam was a civilian. This had been self-defense
Sam's pupils widened, gazing at the ceiling while Dean continued his handy-work „That's a good thing, Sammy. No one's screwing with you." Dean Winchester had felt, that the kid wasn't all lollipop and candy-canes He had figured, that if it'd come to the point, Sam would know how to fight back.
„I know what you are,. Dean Winchester", Sam mumbled. Yes he knew.. Not that he knew anything about the devil's gate and stuff. But he was pretty sure that the guy he had been spending time with, was a hunter.
„So, you tell me what I am? SAM.", He didn't really listen. He didn't understand what Sam was obviously trying to tell him. That he knew. That he wasn't just some civilian.
There was no answer. Dean continued cutting the jeans open. Gladly they weren't skinny-jeans. That could've been difficult.
When he didn't get an answer, he looked up.
„I know WHAT you are.", Sam mumbled meaningfully.. He kept on staring at the ceiling. His eyes blank, as if he was talking to someone else, right there in front of him.
The way Sam said it made Dean look up, stopping mid-cut
He followed Sam's gaze at the ceiling.
A cold shower drove down his spine.
Dean once had this reaper on his hands in a hospital. He couldn't remember that good at all. It has all been blurry back then. And as he came back from the breach of death, he wouldn't remember everything that had happened. But he could remember the reaper. Floating above a dying man.
„WHAT who is?", Dean cocked an eyebrow, his look pinned now to Sam's face.
„You.", the younger man breathed.
Dean swallowed, tore his gaze away from the man and continued cutting. They needed to get this done. No time to waste.
Bobby bolted into the room. „Everything's set up down there. Ellen's gonna be here in about sixty minutes." He carried two bags with saline in his hands. "Gonna warm them up."
Bobby Singer didn't run often. But when he did, he was like a fucking weasel on speed.
SPN
They brought Sam downstairs. Dean draping him on the preheated examination table and covered him in towels and blankets.
„Who is he?" Sure, the old man didn't want to pry, but they had a civilian in his house now, who didn't want them to get authorities involved. „Gonna get me somethin' on this one, ya know?" Besides that, if Sam would stay – he at least figured so – Bobby had to clean up, get things hidden …
„He's a friend." He stood hunched over the Sam, feeling his pulse. „A dear friend." His voice was almost loving. "Don't think is going to move soon anywhere. Don't worry."
„Got the suture kit?", Dean asked, reaching out for Bobby who was standing offside, taking in the scene in front of him.
They hooked him on a slightly warmed up saline-drip. The first one, Bobby let drip fast. The second one a bit slower.
They had to keep his system going until Ellen arrived.
They've been in bad situations too. And hell, it was at stake more than just once. So they knew a few tricks about how to stay alive. Though – if it was for internal bleedings and other ugly shit they had to see a real doc too.
Or they called out for Ellen.
Both men got to work.
Dean started to clean Sam's face with a soft sponge, getting all the blood off, while Bobby started to stitch him up. They had to work fast and precise. This one was a two-men-job.
Sam was drifting in and out of it. His finger's twitching every now and then. They didn't dare to give him anything else but saline for the moment. They had to wait for Ellen. She'd know.