10 chapters in! All flashbacks this time, back to the hospital next chapter, and there's some fun stuff planned, so stick around! Big thanks to Duxe and DearHart for their reviews last chapter! I hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving and hopefully a good few days off!
Sam could say that things moved in slow motion after he was shot, but in all honesty, they didn't. The pain spread through his chest and down his limbs like someone had put gasoline in his veins and set his chest on fire. It rushed through and consumed him, making him almost limp across the ground as the werewolf tried to dig his claws into him.
Luckily for Sam, he never got the chance, as there was a final gunshot and the body jerked and rolled to the side of him. He would have been relieved had it not been for the fact that he couldn't get much more than half a breath in.
"Sammy?" Dean called as he put his gun back and ran to Sam's side, dropping down next to him to assess the damage. He pulled away Sam's jacket and looked at the entrance wound, hoping there was an exit one too. "Hang on, Sammy, just a quick check-"
Sam gasped as Dean gently lifted up his shoulder to check for an exit wound from his back.
"We've got an exit wound, you'll be just fine," Dean assured quickly, and let Sam gently back to the ground as he looked around frantically for something to use to stop the bleeding. Having found nothing in the room, Dean stood up and went into the kitchen, where he was sure he had seen a towel earlier before everything went to hell.
Sam was still on the ground and gasping when he got back with a hand towel and pressed it gently to his wound. "Okay okay okay," he muttered, and Sam could practically see the gears turning in his head. "Okay, I can't patch this up here, Sam, and I know how much you hate hospitals but-"
It was how much they both hated hospitals that was making Dean hesitate. Sam's heart began pumping even faster when he realized that Dean had admitted, with no fight or argument, that Sam needed a hospital. It meant that this was bad.
"Gotta get you up, back to Baby, and those nice hospital folks will get you patched up, good as new, how does that sound, Sammy?"
Sam didn't nod or agree or smile, he just gave his brother a look that he hoped he perceived as understanding. Of course Dean did, he knew how to read his baby brother like a book, even when he was hurt, especially when he was hurt.
"Okay, on three, we're getting you up, keep pressure on that," Dean directed. He placed one of Sam's hands onto the towel that was covering the front of the wound and Sam pressed as much as he could without blacking out. Dean gave him a count of three as promised; this was no time for skipping two and three to avoid thinking about the pain to come from, say, a dislocated shoulder.
Spots danced in front of Sam's eyes as Dean practically heaved him off the ground and got one arm slung around his shoulder, the other one still holding the towel to the wound. "See? Easy peasy," Dean muttered, to which Sam weakly nodded. There would have been more groaning on Sam's part, but that would require opening his mouth and using his lungs more than he had to."You good to start walking?" It wasn't as much of a question as it was a statement, because they needed to go, but Sam nodded again all the same.
With leaning half his body onto Dean, they managed to make it out of the cabin and into the forest. "See? Easy. No more werewolves to take out, the car's closer, you got me here to annoy you, we're much better off than last time. All we need is a chauffeur to the hospital."
Dean's attempts to bring levity to the situation were somewhat working, as this scenario was better than the last werewolf hunt they had been on. Though Sam still definitely did not appreciate being shot and he missed being able to breathe properly and-
"Hey, hey, hey, Sammy, need you to stay upright," Dean chided gently, but even in his not fully there state, Sam could hear the worry underneath his words. He straightened up a bit more and they continued stumbling towards the car through the forest.
All the while, Sam couldn't help but think that this hunt was a perfect mix of two of the worst scenarios they had practically ever had. A was the obvious other werewolf hunt and B…
Sam looked to his brother through bangs that had fallen down in front of his face. B…Sam holding Dean up with a hand to stop a chest wound after being wounded by Metatron. Both of those scenarios hadn't ended well for either of them.
"Yeah, well this one will be different." Dean's voice shocked him a bit, how could he have known what he was thinking? "Your brain to mouth filter is even worse than usual, Sammy, quit thinking and walk, this will all end fine, you'll see."
Sam registered that they had stopped for a moment for Dean to look up at him, determination and worry both set in his eyes. It could have just been Sam's eyes playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn that Dean looked a shade paler upon hearing what Sam had said. When they started walking again, it was at a faster pace, and Sam knew exactly why. He didn't exactly speak his mind unless he was a bit delirious, and severe blood loss could do that to a person and…he should probably stop thinking.
The further they walked, the more Sam began leaning on Dean for literal support until his brother was the only thing propping him up. The dark leaves and twigs beneath their feet began to blur and the trees seemed to spin around them.
Dean must have noticed this because he started talking. Sam wasn't sure about what specifically, but he was rambling on about something. He'd get words here or there. A band name, or a favorite food, or a question as to why Sam liked something that Dean hated, namely…was it salads in this case? Whatever it was, it kept a half smirk, half grimace on Sam's face.
They kept walking and Dean kept talking, his voice low and steady next to Sam's head. While the world kept spinning, that was the one thing that stayed the same, and Sam used it as an anchor.
His chest burned and hurt and felt something awful. He couldn't get a full breath in at all, and out was even more shaky. Besides walking and listening to Dean, he was really just focusing on not coughing, because that definitely wouldn't help things.
When he stumbled over a branch that he couldn't see in his darkening vision, Dean was there to quickly right him and prop him up again. "You good?"
Sam would have loved to reply "oh yeah, aces, just a hole in my chest", but he couldn't. Dean took his free hand and pushed Sam's hair back for a moment so he could see his face. Even in the darkness, Sam could tell his hand was shaking a bit. He rested it on the side of Sam's face and nodded, mainly to himself. "Of course you're good, you've only got a freaking hole in your chest and can't breathe or talk, right, Sammy?"
Sam's smirk must have been enough of a give away because Dean lightly tapped the side of Sam's face in reassurance before they started walking again. Of course he knew what Sam was thinking, and Sam hadn't expected anything less.
Eventually, after being trapped in his head for who knew how long, Dean excitedly announced that they were back at the car. Sam looked up through bleary eyes and a gaze half hidden by sweat drenched bangs, but there Baby was, gleaming ever so slightly in the dark forest. He would have let out a sigh of relief, but he…couldn't.
"We'll get you nice and situated and on our way to a hospital in no time," Dean kept muttering. He talked more when he got nervous. It wasn't anything important, just little nothings meant to reassure Sam as much as himself. He maneuvered the two of them to the passenger side and opened the door with his semi free hand. "You've gotta sit down for me, Sammy, okay?"
Sam nodded as much as he could, knowing the change in position and more compression on his chest wouldn't feel any better. Dean lowered Sam onto the seat as easily and gently as he could, but Sam still groaned at the spikes of pain the whole way down. When he was finally situated, it was barely inside the car.
"Okay, stay upright for ten seconds, let me grab the med kit, okay?"
There it was again, the 'okay?' as if he expected Sam to reply but knew he wouldn't. Sam nodded again and Dean closed the door after making sure Sam was clear. As promised, ten seconds and some rummaging around in the trunk later, the guns they had brought with them were replaced with a med kit that Dean brought around to the front seat before he too sat down and closed the door.
"Gauze gauze gauze," he muttered under his breath as he hurriedly flipped through the kit, bloodstained fingers leaving marks all over the white plastic. "Aha! Bingo!" he said triumphantly, and held up a wad of white fabric.
Sam tried to quirk a smile at his brother, but he ended up just somewhat falling over onto his shoulder, which was better than the door in his mind.
"There we go, get comfortable, I'm just gonna switch this out real fast, then you keep pressure on it, you hear?"
Sam blinked in affirmation, which was easier to do than nodding. Dean carefully moved Sam's hand away and surveyed the wound for a split second before he swapped out the towel for the wad of gauze and placed Sam's hand back on it. Sam figured he must gave gone a shade paler, because the sudden fear in Dean's eyes was enough to make Sam's heart start pumping a bit faster than it already was.
"On the road again," Dean muttered quickly and turned the Impala on, threw it into drive, and began driving out the way they had come.
With the absence of music, the only sound in the car aside from the usual rumbling of the engine were Sam's increasingly wheezing breaths. He leaned more against Dean's shoulder, using it to keep himself upright.
The minimal streetlights on the highway or…wherever they were passed by faster than they should have, so either he was imagining things or Dean was driving much too quickly. It was probably a combination of both if he thought of it. It was-
"Sammy, I need you to stay awake and upright, okay? Almost there, man, hang on," he said hurriedly, and spared his brother a glance from the road. He looked back to the windshield before he reached his right hand up and pressed it against Sam's wound, adding some extra pressure where Sam's had been gradually failing.
Even in his state, he could tell that the gauze was starting to soak through. The Impala slowed with Dean's new driving position, but they kept moving all the same.
Kept moving and moving and moving and soon trees turned into buildings and…Sam's dizzy mind couldn't keep up with it all. Spots were dancing in front of his eyes and he suddenly couldn't get a breath in. He pressed on the gauze a bit harder, gasping as the added pressure did nothing to help the drowning in his lungs.
"Sam? Sam? What's going on, talk to me," Dean commanded, his voice low and thick with worry and fear. He pressed his hand down on the wound and his foot down on the gas. "Breathe, man, ride it out."
Sam wished he could tell Dean that's exactly what he was trying to do, he knew what he should be doing, but he couldn't. He absolutely couldn't, and with a lack of blood and a lack of air, darkness began taking over his vision.
His head began to lull to the side and his hand went lax over the gauze.
"Sam? Sammy! Hang on, okay, almost into town, I need you to stay awake for me, I can't pull off to wake you up and get you to a hospital at the same time. Sam? Sa-"
That was all Sam got before he went limp against the seat, the buildings and streetlights vanishing under the waves of blackness.