CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (PART ONE)

"Dean."

Dean looked up and never thought he'd be so happy to see her again. "Mercy," he sighed. "Please help him."

Her violet eyes broke contact with Dean's to take in the sight of the wounded, dying man on the ground gasping for breath with a blonde curled around him. She inhaled deeply and her eyes widened. "He has your blood."

Dean nodded. "He's my brother."

Mercy immediately fell to her knees by Sam's head, placing her hands in the young man's sweat-soaked hair. "He's half in," she disclosed, looking frantically up at Dean.

"I can see that, Mercy," Dean growled, frustrated. "Can you help him?"

Mercy sighed. "Help me get him in the car. We're too open out here."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah." He looked down at Janelle. "Janie, why don't you come around here, sweetheart?" He motioned to the grass next to him. He watched with blank eyes as she obeyed; crawling around Sam's long legs to get to Dean.

"Okay, lift him," Mercy instructed, positioning her hands beneath Sam's shoulders as Dean took hold of his legs. They turned him before Mercy climbed backward through the back door Dean had left open. She laid his head in her lap while Dean attempted to fold the rest of Sam's body into the backseat.

"Bend your legs, Sammy," Dean called. "Help me out here."

Weakly, Sam responded; bending his legs and resting them against the back of the seat. "I'm sorry for being abnormally tall," he whispered, gazing up at the pale, upside down face of the woman called Mercy.

Looking down, Mercy smiled warmly, caressing his clammy cheek. "It's all right, Sam. It's all right."

Before Dean could slam the door, Janelle jumped into the back. She crawled across the floorboards until she was on the other side where she could clearly see and feel Sam's face.

"Come sit up front with me, Janelle," Dean said, lacking the power he'd possessed only moments ago.

"She's fine," Mercy said. "Just drive, Dean."

Dean closed the door, quickly gathered up the things left on the grass, and slid across the hood of the Impala. When he was finally inside, he tossed the items onto the seat next to him, started the car, threw it into gear, and sped off with squealing tires.

"Easy!" Mercy commanded, struggling to keep Sam's head from jostling. "Now, what was he bit by?" she inquired, gently removing the towel, which had stuck to Sam's loose, ragged skin.

"A lycan," Dean answered, rubbing his face after wiping the blood from his hand onto his jeans.

Janelle blinked, and Mercy was suddenly sitting on top of Sam, straddling his waist. "Wow," she whispered incredulously.

Mercy winked at Janelle and returned her complete attention to Sam, whose heartbeat was unsteady. "Sam," she said, "You've been poisoned, but I'm sure you already knew that."

"Yeah, I was there," Sam sighed, turning his head to face Janelle, who was gazing warmly into his eyes.

"I'm a vampire, Sam," Mercy blurted, gaining back Sam's eyes, "And it is possible for me to suck out the poison, but I don't know how much blood you've lost, which means it's also possible …" She took a deep breath. "That I can drain you to death."

"Mercy, cut the hospital shit!" Dean yelled. "Do it!"

"Dean," Sam croaked, forcing his hand to hang over the front seat, not having to wait long before his brother gripped it with his own hand.

"It's all right, Sammy," Dean comforted. "You're not dying today, you hear me? Mercy's gonna get the poison out of you and then we're gonna get you to a hospital and you're gonna be back to your same old smartass self."

Sam's blurred vision attempted to focus on Janelle next, and she smiled comfortingly. "Are you sure it's not time to see Jess?" he whispered.

Dean's eyes shot to the rearview and met Mercy's soft purple gaze.

"No," Janelle breathed, shaking her head and brushing her fingers through Sam's now completely drenched brown hair. "It's not. I promise."

Sam nodded, though not entirely convinced, and looked up at Mercy. "All right," he sighed. "Do it."

Dean let out a breath, closing his eyes. He squeezed Sammy's cooling hand. "Good, Sam," he said. "You're gonna be all right."

The Impala's tire flew over an astonishing rock in the road, and Dean nearly lost control of the car with only one hand on the wheel.

"Dean!" Mercy exclaimed, having to cause Sam more pain by gripping his sides to keep him from rolling off the seat. "You've got to find a place to stop. He needs to be stable before I can start."

"Look around, Mercy!" Dean yelled. "We're in the middle of fuckin' nowhere!"

"That's not true," Janelle confessed, her eyes absolutely refusing to leave Sam's pale and sweaty face. "Soon. Soon there'll be a road to turn on. Soon." She nodded. "Places to stay."

Dean's teeth grinded, but he hadn't any other choice aside from trusting Janelle. He put the pedal to the floor and pushed Priscilla as far as she'd go. "Come on, baby," he said to her. "I need you now."

Janelle's lips spread into a smile and she reached out to touch the car's door. "You hear him, don't you?" she said.

"Please?" Dean went on. "I can't lose Sammy. I can't. Not now."

Suddenly the Impala roared and jumped forward, the speedometer almost unable to read how many miles per hour she was up to.

"Thank you," Dean said. "Just a little further. I hope."

Janelle's knack for being right continued when Dean spotted a road to turn on. He pumped the brake, shifted, and took the turn as easily as possible, as he had no desire to cause Sam anymore pain than he already had. After all, this entire ordeal had been his fault. Now it was time to make up for being such a bastard.

"So much blood," Janelle breathed, observing the rivers of red, which dripped from the Winchesters' clasped hands, as well as from the backseat where Sam was lying. Blood trickled off the leather and would've landed on the floorboards had Janelle not been sitting there. Instead, Sam's liquid life force rained down onto her jeans.

"Dean …" Mercy warned, taking notice of the blood all around them after Janelle's comment. She could smell it. It had been only mildly strong when she'd first arrived, but now, she was overcome by the scent and her stomach rumbled.

"I know," Dean interrupted. "I see a town." He clutched Sam's hand tighter, suddenly realizing that Sam was no longer reciprocating. "Sam?" he said. "Sammy?"

"He's in shock," Mercy disclosed. "We need a room now, Dean!"

Dean knew he could not push the Impala any harder without risking serious or permanent damage, but the cold, lifeless hand of his baby brother occupied his mind until he saw the first motel.

"Sammy," Janelle smiled, massaging Sam's forehead with her thumb. "It's okay. I'm gonna take care of you. You come and see me."

Dean parked the car and, as he was rushing toward the office to get a room, realized too late that his hands and shirt were covered in blood. Reluctantly, he ran back to the Impala, grabbed his navy blue jacket, threw it on, and hurried inside. He purchased a room with a stolen credit card as quickly as possible, and then drove around the small building to the correctly numbered room.

"All right, let's get him out," Mercy said when Dean opened the back door. She directed Janelle to open the motel room door as she and Dean carried Sammy inside, laying him on the bed nearest the door.

"What can I do?" Dean inquired, shucking his jacket again and resuming his position next to his little brother.

"Nothing," Mercy replied. "Just hold his hand and stay out of my way."

Dean grinded his teeth, knowing precisely how well he dealt with being completely helpless. He watched absentmindedly as Janelle crawled onto the bed and curled her body awkwardly around Sam's head – her head on one side of Sam's and her knees on the other side.

"If you can hear me, Sam, I'm going to bite you now," Mercy said loudly, ripping open Sam's shirts, sending buttons flittering across the room.

"Is he awake?" Dean wondered.

Mercy gulped. "I hope not. This'll hurt." She paused. "I might have to bite him as many as three times."

Dean's eyes shot up to her. "Why the hell for?" he demanded.

"To make sure I get all of the poison. I'll have to bite him in his chest, arm, and maybe his foot."

"Fine, whatever, just do it."

"Dean … Sam could bleed to death if he hasn't already succumbed to the poison."

Dean sighed depressingly and rubbed his forehead. "Can you tell me something good, Mercy?" he asked. "Tell me … that my brother won't die. Tell me you can save him before he bleeds to death right in front of me."

Mercy blinked and looked down.

"I'll do anything you want, Mercy," Dean went on. "I'll give you anything you want. Just please … don't let Sammy die like this." He shook his head and finished with a whisper, "Not like this."

"Come with me, Sammy," Janelle whispered so that no one could make out what she was saying. She smoothed her hand over Sam's hair over and over. "Come walk with me."