Hey guys, sorry it's been so long since I updated, but… drum roll please… We've had people show up unexpectedly from New Hampshire, and I haven't had too much time to actually write lately.
Again, many thanks go out to tyranusfan, who still takes on the challenge of beta'ing my story...
I also want to thank you all for your kind reviews, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter of the story…
XXXXX
Dean watched his brother slide off the knife as if in slow motion. His heart stopped, and his mouth seemed to dry out.
Sammy?
His little brother was just lying there on the ground, gasping, jerking, dying.
SAM!
"You son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, raising his arm. He didn't give the spirit time to react before he was pulling the trigger. Caliban released an unearthly shriek and dispersed, but Dean paid no attention, his eyes already focused on his little brother, who lay still, a look of plaintive fear etched on his face.
"Sammy?" Dean asked as he dropped to his knees beside his brother. His brother was ashen, and Dean did the only thing he could think of. Pulling off his shirt, he bunched up the fabric, and pressed it to his brother's stomach, trying to staunch the bleeding.
His little brother jerked away from the pressure, his face creased with pain. "Sorry Sammy," Dean whispered as he held the fabric down with one hand, and fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone with the other.
"9-1-1, what's you emergency?" A curt woman asked on the other side of the phone.
"My brother's been stabbed," Dean breathed, placing the phone between his ear and shoulder, and using his now free hand to apply more pressure to Sam's wound.
"Okay sir, stay calm." Dean let out a barked laugh at the woman's answer.
"Stay calm? You want me to stay calm when my brother's lying on the floor bleeding to death?" The incredulous tone of Dean's voice didn't surprise the eldest Winchester.
"I understand that sir, but I need you to stay calm while I dispatch paramedics. What's you location?" The operator asked, her voice still calm and soothing. Dean relayed the address of the old mansion to her. "Okay sir, the EMT's will be there soon."
"Do you have pressure on the wound?" The woman asked after a moment, and Dean nodded, forgetting for a second that he was on the phone and she couldn't see him.
"Yeah," he told her, looking down at the drenched cloth in his bloody hands.
"Good, keep applying pressure with one hand, and with the other, check his pulse." Dean did as ordered, and pressed the fabric down with his right hand, while he placed his left on his brother's neck. "Now, is his pulse fast, slow, faint?" The woman asked.
"It's fast," Dean answered, his sole attention on his little brother. The younger man gasped, as if trying to draw in a deeper breath, and coughed. Blood spattered out of his mouth, and Dean's heart froze. "God, he coughing up blood!"
"The paramedics should be there any second, just hold on!" The operator said urgently. Dean heard the sirens as she told him this, and dropped and closed the phone, effectively ending the call.
"Sammy," Dean whispered, his eyes watering as he looked over his baby brother.
"Sammy, just hold on okay, just stay with me," he pleaded, "please! Just please little brother, hold on." Sam didn't seem to hear him, and seconds later, he stopped breathing.
Paramedics ran into the room then, and Dean backed away from Sam, not letting him out of his sight, just giving the medics room to work. He watched as the EMT's dropped down beside his brother, and started checking his vitals. "Rapid pulse, no breath movements." One medic took over his job of putting pressure on Sam's wound, and the other placed a tongue depressor in Sam's mouth, checking for a gag reflex.
"We need to intubate before we move him," the medic told his partner, who nodded, and told him to get the stuff ready, that he couldn't take pressure off the wound until they had everything ready to go, because, "this kid will bleed out faster than we can save him if I do."
Dean could only look on helplessly as Sam's head was tilted back, and a metal depressor was placed on his tongue as a long piece of plastic was pushed down his throat, which was then replaced with a tube. The medic hooked the tube to a translucent blue bag, while his partner called Dean over.
The man ripped open gauze as Dean practically ran over, and told Dean to put pressure on the wound. Dean did as he was told in a daze, and after a moment, the medic ran back in, pulling a stretcher behind him. Dean was once again moved out of the way, and he again watched as his brother was loaded onto a backboard, and then picked up and placed on the stretcher.
As the medic strapped Sam down, he turned to look at Dean. "Name, age, and medical allergies?" He asked.
"John Fogerty, twenty three, and he's allergic to penicillin." Dean replied automatically. The medic nodded, and when Dean went to follow them to the ambulance, the medic told Dean to follow the ambulance to the hospital, so they would have more room to work.
XXXXX
"John Fogerty, twenty three year old male, with a stab wound to the abdomen. Intubated at the scene, rapid pulse, shocky, and hypovolaemic. Allergic to penicillin." The paramedic announced to the doctors and nurses waiting at the ambulance port as Sam was wheeled through the doors.
"Thanks, we'll take it from here," a balding doctor told the medic, as he and another man took hold of the stretcher, and two nurses took over applying pressure, and bagging Sam.
All four ran down the hall toward the OR, and as Dean walked through the doors, all he saw was a glimpse of his pale brother before the doors swung shut.
Please be okay, Sammy…
XXXXX
A/N: I hoped you liked this chapter, though I have a feeling it was one of the worst I wrote so far… But then again, I've kinda lost some interest for this story. I'll try to finish it, but a writers greatest influence, besides their readers is the fact that they actually want to, and have motivation for their story…
So we'll see…
Oh and as a little note, John Fogerty was a member of Creedence Clearwater Revival... So with that said,
Take care and review often,
OSS