Chapter Three
Sam groaned. He lay still for a moment, making sure the world had stopped spinning before he slowly started to pick himself up. His seat was reclined backwards and his back ached from the stress of trying to keep himself still. His chest hurt from where the seatbelt had held him in place, as well as his hip, as he had been turned towards the door. But he didn't think they were anything more than bruises. There was a sharp, throbbing pain above his right eye and he reached a hand up to feel it. The wound was wet and smarted when he touched it. The wetness was dripping down the side of his face and it felt sticky. He pulled his fingers away and saw blood, letting out a small groan. It wasn't a deep split, but there would be plenty of bruising and swelling on his eyebrow, he was sure.
The sound of the car's metal frame groaning and settling brought Sam back to the situation. He looked up and saw that the front windshield was an array of cracks and holes. Branches struck through the glass. There was no smoke, so Sam counted that as a good thing. It looked at though they had hit the tree on the left side. Sam let out another groan as he realized how upset Dean would be.
Dean…
Sam's mind was instantly cleared and he turned to look at his brother. He expected Dean to be cussing and swearing, pissed off and spewing forth a colorful assortment of crude remarks at the car. He expected Dean to turn to him and start fussing over the cut on his head. He expected Dean to take control of the situation and tell him what to do, because Sam was at a loss. What he did not expect was the sight that greeted him. Dean lay still, on hand hooked into the steering wheel, the other laying limply across his lap. He was leaning into the door. But what horrified Sam the most was the fact that the driver side window was cracked in a circular patter of streaks and webbing. Dean's head was the point of impact. Sam felt panic well up inside of him. Dean's eyes were closed.
Letting out a choked gasp, Sam sat up, ignoring the protests his battered body screamed at him. His hands fumbled with his seatbelt, shaking from adrenaline and fear. But finally, his seatbelt snapped open and Sam was crawling across the seats, putting a hand gently on his brother's arm. "Dean?" he asked, his voice shaky. There was no response and Sam propped himself on the dashboard, leaning over his brother. The interior of the car was cramped and hard to work with, Sam hit his head on the roof several times, but didn't care. When he spotted the blood, Sam didn't care about anything but his brother.
"Oh God," Sam breathed out, moving a hand to cup Dean's chin, afraid to move him but needing to feel his brother's pulse and breath. He nearly cried when he found both. Though Dean's pulse was a little thready, his breathing was fine. Dean's face was pale, his eyes closed. The left side of his head was red with blood. It had smeared onto the glass and ran down in dark rivulets on his cheek to his chin and dripped onto his coat. "Jesus," Sam whispered, looking back at Dean's face, holding his chin gently. He tapped his right cheek lightly, trying to wake him but not wanting to hurt him more if he had a concussion, or worse.
"Dean?" Sam called to his brother, noticing that his breath was catching in the air. The cold had started to seep into the car. Great. Sam tried to square himself with his brother again, patting him down, checking for any other injuries. A painful looking welt had started to form on his right wrist which had been caught in the steering wheel, but other than that, the head wound was the only other injury. Sam looked at his brother's face, hoping to see a sign of life. "Dean, come on, man," Sam said, lightly tapping him again. Still no response.
"Shit," Sam cursed and tilted his head around the chair to look out the back window. It looked like they'd fallen down an incline. He could see their tracks in the snow. "Shit," Sam said again, not knowing what to do. He felt for his cell phone and pulled it out. When there was no signal, he felt like screaming.
Taking several deep breaths to calm the panic that was beginning to overcome him, Sam leaned back against the dashboard, not taking his eyes off of Dean, and tried to think of what to do. He couldn't leave Dean alone in the car. But the crash had shattered the headlights and no one would see them down here. He didn't even know if anyone else would come along the road.
Sam suddenly thought of the first aide kit they kept under the back seat. He scrambled between the two front seats and pulled his long legs back, searching for the first aide kit. He found it quickly and pulled it out. Riffling through the contents, he found some gauze, bandages, medical tape, and string, but no needle. As he was searching again through the kit, a groan filtered back from the front seat. Sam reacted immediately. He shoved the medical supplies into the passenger seat and climbed back up front, leaning over his brother once more.
"Dean?" Sam encouraged and this time he was met with another groan and a pain filled frown. Dean's eyes were moving beneath the lids, but they had yet to open. "Dean, that's it," Sam coaxed, placing a hand on his brother's arm and holding his chin again, letting Dean know that he was there. "Dean, open your eyes." Sam decided to get stern. It seemed to have the desired effect as Dean's eyes started fluttering. Sam let out a happy tearful laugh and nodded. "That's it," he rubbed Dean's arm.
It took a moment, but finally Dean's eyes opened and stayed open. They were glossy and it seemed he was having trouble focusing. But Sam stayed in his line of sight, hoping beyond hope that his brother would see him and come alert. Sam finally got his wishes as Dean's eyes seemed to focus on him and his lips parted slightly but no words came out. "Dean, can you hear me?" Sam tried, wanting his brother to respond.
Dean's eyes closed halfway as the effort of talking seemed to be too much. "I'm not deaf." Sam laughed again, knowing the tears in his eyes were good tears this time.
"No," Sam agreed, watching as his brother's eyes wandered, taking in the surroundings. "Just a smart ass."
"You okay?" Dean asked, closing his eyes. "You're bleeding."
Sam wasn't surprised that would be the first thing an injured Dean would ask. He positioned himself a bit better in front of his brother and answered, "I'm fine." Sam started to gently turn Dean's head, wanting to get a better look at the wound. The more he could see, the more it worried him. He stopped when his brother groaned and winced. "Sorry," Sam whispered.
"How's the car?" Dean asked, opening his eyes again and immediately focusing on the branches that were sticking through the windshield.
Sam rubbed his brother's arm, noticing that the temperature was dropping steadily. They needed to get out of here and to some place warm. Blood loss and hypothermia were two things Sam didn't want to deal with. "I'm afraid she'll be out of commission for a while." Dean moaned but Sam knew it wasn't from the pain. "We'll get her fixed," Sam assured him. "But right now, let's get you fixed."
"Am I broken?" Dean asked, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips.
"Funny," Sam chided. He leaned a bit further to look at the wound. "Can you turn your head?" he asked, watching as Dean complied, a grimace on his face but staying strong. Sam smiled at him and put his hand on the back of Dean's head, looking at the wound more closely. It was a nasty one. A large gash ran from Dean's temple to his ear. It was starting to swell and Sam could see the beginnings of some killer bruises forming on Dean's cheek bone and even around his eye. "Are you dizzy?" Sam asked, touching the sides of the wound gently to assess the tenderness.
Dean winced and tried to move his head away, but Sam held him in place. "A little," Dean answered and Sam was struck by the fact that Dean didn't even try to claim he was fine. That was worrying in itself. Dean wasn't one who liked to show pain. In fact, most of the time he tried to hide his injuries.
"This is gonna need stitches," Sam said. He made eye contact with his brother, trying to judge his reaction. "And you might have a concussion." Sam paused, knowing Dean wouldn't like it. "I have to get you to the hospital."
Dean sighed. "Can't you just sew it up here?" he asked softly. Sam knew that his brother hated hospitals. Too many trips as a kid, Sam guessed. Too many trips to go see their father, or to go see each other, or even to go as a patient themselves. Sam couldn't blame his brother for not liking hospitals. Sam wasn't too keen on them either.
Shaking his head, Sam said, "No, I couldn't find any needles." He rubbed a hand over Dean's head and leaned in to look at the wound again. God it was nasty and it was making Sam anxious knowing it belonged to his brother. "You're due for a check up anyway," Sam tried to make light.
Dean was staring down at the medical supplies on the seat, but Sam guessed that his brother wasn't seeing them by the far away look in his eyes. Sam reached over and grabbed some of the gauze and a cotton bandage. He placed it on the wound and Dean flinched but didn't say anything. Sam held it there and tried to look at his brother's face, trying to gauge if he was going to stay awake.
"I saw it again," Dean whispered. Sam frowned. "It was in the road."
"Mothman?" Sam asked, now starting to put the pieces together. Dean was a good driver, and Sam didn't know hwy he'd suddenly swerved off of the road. Sam cursed himself. He should have made his brother let him drive. Dean was the one seeing the thing, it had been a stupid idea to let him drive in the first place.
Dean smiled and Sam frowned. "So you believe me?"
"No," Sam answered, feeling Dean start to shiver. It was time to get out of here. "I just don't know what else to call it." He moved so he was kneeling on the passenger seat. "Dean, can you hold this there?" he asked. Dean rose a slow, sluggish hand to the gauze and took over for Sam, holding it tightly over the wound.
"What are you going to do?" Dean asked, moving his head. It looked heavy and Sam could only imagine how it felt.
"Phones don't work," Sam said, holding up his phone with disgust. "So I'm gonna go up there," Sam pointed out the window to the top of the incline they had slid down. "And see if I can flag down a car." Sam was moving before Dean could answer. He got out of the car, the cold hitting him like bricks. He shivered involuntarily and trudged through the knee deep snow to get to the trunk. Opening it, he pulled out some blankets Dean kept back there. He walked back around and climbed into the car again, closing the door. "But first, I'm gonna make sure you're warm enough."
Sam wrapped the blanket around his brother, tucking it into him and making sure as much of Dean was covered as possible. It reminded Sam of all the times his brother had done that same for him when they were little. They'd usually made a game out of it, tussling until Sam got too tired and Dean tucked him in quietly. It gave Sam a somber feeling, almost wishing they were kids again. Dean was frowning, eyes closed, looking worried. Sam noticed his teeth had started chattering. He leaned forward and put a hand on the side of Dean's face. His skin was so cold. Dean opened his eyes and frowned when he saw Sam's face so close to his own. "Dean, you gotta stay awake for me," Sam said, looking his brother square in the eye. "I can't go get help if you're gonna fall asleep."
"I'm good, Sam," Dean muttered, smiling. "Just want to make the room stop spinning."
Sam nodded. "Okay, then I'll be back soon."
Dean reached out from underneath the blankets and grabbed Sam's jacket as he went to open the door. He stopped and looked back at his brother. "Sammy," Dean's eyes looked worried. "I don't think…what if it's still out there?" Sam knew what Dean was trying to say. He didn't want Sam to go alone. Sam patted Dean's hand and shoved it back beneath the blanket, tucking it in again.
"Don't worry," he said. "Mothman doesn't hurt people, remember?" Sam tried to joke but Dean didn't find it funny. He smiled and patted Dean's knee. "I'll be fine. Just stay awake for me."
Sam left the car before Dean could grab him again. He closed the door and took a deep breath, looking at the incline. This wasn't going to be easy. It was slippery and cold and snowy and Sam didn't like it. But, it had to be done. Sam just hoped that once he got to the top, he wouldn't have to wait long for a car to come. He didn't really want to stand out in the cold all night and he sure as hell didn't want to keep his brother from being checked out by a doctor. Dean was awake and alert, for the most part, which was comforting to Sam. But that wouldn't last long if his brother started freezing to death.
Sam opened the trunk again and shuffled through the things before he found what he wanted: gloves and a flashlight. He slipped them on and looked at the hill again. Time to get going. Using his hands and practically crawling up the steep slope, Sam soon found that the gloves worked only for a limited time. Soon, his hands were freezing and the cold had started to seep through his clothes and into his bones. His jeans were wet at the bottom and stuck to his skin, chilling him more than he appreciated.
After what seemed like an unfairly long climb, Sam made it to the top. He flashed his flashlight around, just checking to make sure whatever Dean swerved to miss wasn't still around. Then he turned and looked back down at the car. God, had the slid that far? It was a wonder they hadn't died. Sam pushed the thought away and turned back to the road. He didn't see a car coming either way and shoved his hands into his pockets, bouncing a little on his feet to keep himself warm. He didn't want to sit down, because if he sat still, the cold would get to him. On a chance, he pulled out his phone and looked at it. There was still no service. Sam cursed and decided that he would make Dean get them both satellite phones.
About ten minutes later, Sam heard the Impala's car door open. He turned and looked down at the black car. He took out his flashlight and shined it down. He could see Dean's legs hanging out of the car and he swore. Dean never was one for following orders, especially from his younger brother. Sam cupped a hand to his mouth and called to his brother, "Dean, stay there!" But Dean either didn't hear him or chose not to listen and Sam watched his brother stand himself up slowly, using the car door as support, more support than he should require. "Dean!" Sam yelled again, worried that his brother would slip and hurt himself further.
But before Sam could decide whether to go back down to Dean or stay up here in case a car came, the quiet night air was broken by a powerful and harsh high pitched scream. Sam froze, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He shone his flashlight around, but the scream seemed to come from all sides. Sam's heart stopped when he heard Dean yell, "Ah fuck, Sammy!"
Sam aimed the flashlight towards his brother and sucked in his breath as he saw what had made Dean yell out. He just caught a small glimpse of it with his flashlight, but it was enough for Sam to think that maybe Dean was right about the whole Mothman thing. It was a creature, or a demon, of some sort. Gliding around close to the ground. It was moving quickly, darting around the car. Sam was moving before he could think of something to do.
Running down the slope, he tried to follow the thing with his flashlight, but it was moving too quickly. Dean had slipped down the car and was now sitting in the snow, fumbling to find some sort of weapon to defend himself, but he was shaking rather violently. Sam reached the car and drew a gun out of the trunk. He went to stand in front of his brother. But the night was eerily quiet and Sam couldn't spot the creature again. They stayed that way for a full minute before Sam turned and kneeled down by Dean. Dean was shivering horribly and he had dropped the gauze. The head wound was still bleeding.
"Now you believe?" Dean asked, teeth clattering together. Sam leaned in, choosing to ignore the question as he picked Dean up, not liking how cold his brother felt, or the amount of blood that was staining his jacket.
"Come on," Sam demanded when Dean didn't seem to want to move.
Dean's hand was still clutching the door. "Sam," Dean pleaded. "My car…"
Sam was too frazzled to find Dean's love of his car endearing. "We'll call a tow in the morning," he replied quickly. "Come on, we have to go." Sam started pulling his brother towards the hill, struggling to keep Dean and himself from tumbling back down. Dean's strength was quickly being sucked away and Sam didn't know how he was going to get him to the top.
Suddenly, Sam froze as a sound reached his ears. He looked at his brother, who was nodding at him to go. Sam patted him lightly before sitting him down in the snow, giving him a promise that he would be right back. Sam wasn't used to taking care of Dean like this. Frankly, he didn't want to get used to it. It scared him, really, truly scared him. Dean joked and laughed and killed baddies. He didn't bleed and shiver and need to be kept awake. Sam was still in a bit of a shock over the whole situation. This wasn't like them, and it creeped him out. Sam ran the rest of the way up, hoping he'd get there in time.
The brightness of headlights was getting closer and as Sam broke to the top of the hill, he darted into the road, desperate to stop the car, which had to slam on its breaks. Sam had to hold out his hands, taking a few steps back to keep from getting his knees clipped by the bumper. As soon as the car was stopped, the driver's door opened and a surprised, and a bit angry, looking man stepped out.
"What's your problem?" he demanded, not giving Sam time to talk. "I could have killed you."
"Please," Sam said, out of breath. "My brother and I slid off the road. He's hurt. Could you give us a ride to the hospital?"
The man looked surprised but stepped all the way out of his car, closing the door. "Where is he?" he asked.
Sam led him to Dean, who was struggling to stay awake when they got to him. Sam hefted one of Dean's arms up around his shoulders while the other man did the same. They lifted Dean up and the man took control of the situation, much to Sam's surprise. "Hey buddy," he said. "What's your name?"
Dean eyed him and leaned closer to Sam. "Whose this?" he tried to whisper but said it a bit louder than he meant to.
The man smiled. "My name's Scott Kingly. I'm a paramedic." Sam raised his eyebrows. What luck. Scott grinned. "Off duty, but maybe I can get some overtime for this." Sam smiled and they maneuvered Dean up the rest of the slope and into the car. Sam sat in the backseat with his brother, trying his hardest to keep him awake.
So much for a happy holiday.