Staying
A missing scene from Devil's Trap.
xxxx
Sam watched John's head drop to the floor and felt the chill of the look his father had given him. Was that hatred? he thought, dazed, the adrenaline of the last few minutes draining out of him, leaving him numb and swaying slightly.
What…?
The sound of a movement from behind made him pivot.
"Dean." He moved as quickly as his rubbery legs would allow, knees giving out abruptly when he reached his brother's side. Sam put the Colt down, reaching out to Dean.
There was so much blood.
"Oh, God, Dean. We've got to …" His brother was still perched awkwardly on his side, his head angled toward the confrontation between John and Sam. Don't you do it.
Dean's face was gray, making the red of the blood on his chin look surreally bright. He blinked sluggishly up at Sam, who rolled him gently onto his back.
"Dad."
"He's fine, Dean. He's fine."
He was alive anyway.
Sam's hands hovered over his brother's chest, not sure where to put them to staunch the blood that was seeping through Dean's clothes. Sam pulled up Dean's t-shirt and swallowed a moan at the sign of his brother's chest. There were great gashes down Dean's torso, starting at his collar bone and ending just past his belly button. They looked like they'd been made from the inside out.
Sam jerked off his jacket and then his shirt, wadding up the cotton cloth of the shirt and pressing it down gingerly over the worst of the bleeding. Dean gasped, twisting weakly away, and Sam felt the pain, for a moment, like it was his own. Tears of frustration and helplessness started in his eyes, and Sam swiped uselessly at them with his shoulder.
"It's OK, Dean. It's OK." Sam braced himself and pushed down harder on the makeshift bandage, knowing that he had to get the bleeding stopped if Dean was going to survive a trip to the hospital. Dean's cry of pain at the increased pressure seemed to echo off the walls of the cabin, but Sam didn't ease up.
"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry," Sam whispered, chanting.
"Oh, God. Dean."
Suddenly, John was there, hands joining Sam's on Dean's chest, eyes desperately on the face of his oldest son.
"Dad." Dean's head turned instinctively toward his father, his voice a strained whisper of relief and pain.
"Hey, kiddo," John said brokenly, moving one hand briefly to Dean's cheek. "Hold on, OK? Can you do that for me, buddy?" Dean closed his eyes and nodded haltingly. "We're going to get you to the hospital. Just hold on."
"Sammy." John's eyes up came to his youngest, the tenderness that lingered there switching abruptly to a terrible resolve. "Go get the car and then come back in."
Sam nodded, leaping to his feet. He ran for the car, pulling it around from the back of the house to the front. He left it running as he made the dash back into the cabin.
John was still crouched by Dean, using both hands to maintain the pressure on his son's wounds. He looked up when Sam re-entered.
"You're going to have to carry him," John said. "I can't. My leg…"
Sam nodded his understanding and knelt by his brother's side. Together, John and Sam raised Dean to a slumped sitting position, both gritting their teeth against the pain in Dean's moan of protest. Sam got an arm around his brother's shoulders and eased the other under his knees. With John's help, Sam climbed to his feet.
"You got him?" John asked, wincing at the pain in his leg, even as he steadied Sam, taking on some of Dean's weight. Sam shifted his load gingerly.
"Yeah," he grunted. "I've got him." John let go, giving Dean over completely to Sam.
"Good. Put him in the car. I'll be right there."
Carefully, Sam made his way out to the car, cursing under his breath when he realized that he wasn't going to be able to open the car door while he was holding Dean.
"Dean, I'm going to lean you against the car for a minute, OK?" Sam said it out loud, asking, although he was pretty sure that Dean was unconscious. The fact that Dean hadn't struggled or protested being carried seemed to be a good indication that his brother wasn't aware of what was going on.
Sam eased him down, setting Dean's feet on the ground, propping him against the side of the car, holding him as gently as he could while he opened the door. Getting Dean into the car was an awkward process, and Sam knew he'd hurt him as he'd maneuvered him in and tried to get him settled.
"Dean?"
He was so still. Sam felt his heart start to hammer in his chest, panic rising. Sam reached out a trembling hand, placing it on his brother's neck, searching for a pulse. Where is it? Oh, God.
"Don't you leave me," he demanded, urgent, fingers fumbling for a better place.
"Don't you leave me," he begged, voice starting to shake with fear, trying another spot. God, please.
Wait. There.
"Sammy?" John, behind him.
Sam took an unsteady breath, needing to catch his breath.
"Yeah," Sam said, struggling to make his voice even, turning his head slightly toward his father. "Yeah, we're ready."
He began to ease out of the back seat.
"Sammy?" Dean's voice was a rasp, his eyes only barely open. Sam's head whipped around.
"Hey!" Sam's voice cracked with relief, and he moved closer to his brother. "We're taking you to the hospital, OK? You're going to be fine." His hands moved nervously over Dean, checking the "bandage," pulling his jacket tighter around him. "Don't worry, OK?"
Dean nodded painfully, eyes closing again.
"Sammy?"
"Yeah, Dean?" Sam paused again.
"I'm not going anywhere." Dean's eyes opened a slit, and he stared hard at his brother. "OK?"
Sam swallowed convulsively.
"OK?"
Sam nodded. "OK."
End.