AN: Hello, so I know I usually take much longer in between updates, and this is not my norm, but I had this almost done. So, here, my present to you all! Plus I have a really busy next couple of weeks so I don't foresee much writing time. I own nothing except the mistakes. Those I do own. Enjoy!
Dean floated somewhere between awake and unconsciousness, pain both his barometer and his guide. There was something he was supposed to do, something he desperately needed to remember, but the answers slipped through the cracks and crevices of his mind, nimble and fluid in their constant escape. The pain ebbed and swelled, like a wave cresting white and foamy against the rocky shores.
Sammy
The thought pierced the veil, sharp and insistent. He needed to check on Sam. Dean struggled to consciousness, fighting the darkened void. As he became more aware, the pain grew in intensity. What the hell had happened?
Memories and images played in short staccato bursts of picture and sound against the black backdrop of Dean's closed eyelids. It was making him nauseous, like he was held prisoner in a kaleidoscope and some kid was gripping it in his grimy hands and banging it against the ground.
Ohh wait, someone was shaking him. The grip felt familiar, and as Dean pried open his eyes, he found Sammy right where he was supposed to be; next to Dean. Samantha was leaning over him, more rags pressed against his newly bleeding shoulder, crying. The snot was dripping out of his nostrils and since gravity was a bitch, it fluttered, helpless in the wake of Sammy's heaving breaths until it lost the fight and plopped on Dean's chin.
Gross.
Dean groaned as the irony of once again laying bleeding from a shoulder wound twice in less than twenty four hours hit him.
"We gotta stop meeting like this, bitch" The words came out gravelly but at least Dean's mouth was working, he wasn't too sure yet about the rest of him.
"Shut up, Dean. It's not funny." Sammy didn't use the customary "jerk" in response, cluing Big Brother into just how frazzled he really was.
"So, how bad is it?" Dean put his game face on but inwardly he cringed. Yeah, it was his non-dominant hand, but if it felt like hamburger meat and looked like hamburger meat…
"I don't know Dean, you already had stitches from yesterday, then you got grazed, now shot. What are you going for the trifecta of death?" Dean was glad to hear the sarcastic snark snake into Sammy's voice, it meant he was coping… for now, and that was really all he could ask for.
"Chicks dig scars Sammy; you know how I gotta keep the ladies happy."
"Shut up," Sammy mumbled, as an afterthought he added, "jerk."
Dean hated lying down, hated being in any position of vulnerability, especially as he remembered the events of the morning and the shooters, both inside and outside the classroom. Sammy sensing Dean's irritation, helped to maneuver Dean into a sitting position. Sammy pulled his good arm and Dean wiggled his butt until, face pale and sweaty, pained gasps obstructed by clenched teeth, he finally rested upright back against the wall.
"Report Sam." Dean might have been injured but he caught the eye roll, even if Sammy's girl bangs half hid it from view. Sammy was tense and stressed, the eye roll was purely instinctual.
"One gunman deceased, one unconscious, one civilian causality that we know of." At this Sam visibly swallowed before shaking his head and moving on. "You have a bullet stuck in your shoulder and if my earlier count was correct there are still six gunmen loose in the school. Plus the sniper from the roof." Sam rubbed his head tiredly before continuing. "On the bright side, we have two more guns, plenty of ammunition, and a couple of really sweet knives. Not to mention, two walklie talkies…"
"… Now we can listen to them and know what their planning," Dean finished. Hey, he'd only seen Die Hard like a million times. Actually, maybe today would be perfect to use his favorite line, give him a bad guy and he'd give him a yippie kiyay m… uh ohh. Sammy was looking at him again with his bitch face. Dean forced himself to focus, damn blood loss.
Now that he was upright, Dean was able to survey the room. He saw kids sitting on the floor, some obviously shell shocked, others quietly crying. They seemed to be giving the Winchesters a wide berth, which never made sense to Dean. Saving the civilians made them heroes, shouldn't the civie's be grateful to them? But no, show any difference and automatically slide into the freak category. Sometimes, Dean couldn't wait to get out of high school, be a hunter full time.
Mr. Sternhull was sitting just next to Sam; he had a bowl full of water and fresh towels. Dean had to give the old guy credit, he was a sucky teacher, but at least he hadn't abandoned Sam to deal with everything by himself during Dean's siesta. Dean gave the guy a small smile hoping he'd get the message.
"Mr. Winchester, what are we to do with you? You had us all scared."
"It's okay Teach, we need to get moving cause when those guys don't report back in others will come to the last place they searched. We'll be like sitting ducks." Laurie and Stacy were sitting together, practically in each other's laps, and Laurie moaned at the thought of more confrontations with gunman. So, not the way he'd pictured them together and moaning, by the way.
Something was missing. Dean blinked to clear his eyes and looked around the room again.
"Sammy."
"Yeah, Dean?"
"Where are the bodies? Especially the guy who was only unconscious and not dead."
"Ohh those bodies, I took care of it Dean. I'm not stupid you know."
Dean looked pointedly at his little brother and waited, glaring. Sammy huffed and blew his bangs out of his eyes, green bright and brilliant, underscored by dark shadows against pale skin. Sammy jerked a thin shoulder towards the back of the room.
"Mr. Sternhull and I dragged them into the supply closet. The non-dead guy I tied up with his own zip ties. I still got some left." Sam fished a handful of efficient looking zip ties out of his pocket to show Dean. "I took all their weapons and supplies."
Dean grunted as he shifted. "How did you secure the door Sam?"
"I tied the outer doors with zip ties and shoved a pencil in the lock, which I broke off there by jamming the lock." Sammy looked at Dean, his eyes shining proudly. Dean reached up to ruffle his hair, laughing when Sammy ducked his big head before Dean could land his hand.
"How very MacGyver of you, Sammy."
"Nah, how very Winchester of me," returned Sam his dimples flashing at the private in joke between the brothers, referencing the all and mighty John Winchester.
"So, just get me a pressure dressing for this shoulder and then we continue on with the plan. Down to the science lab and out the exit." Sammy nodded his head, tuning around to scuttle over to the desk and fish out tape. Several of the other students got on their haunches as well, it seemed like everyone was ready to leave.
Until the radio crackled to life.
"Whitmore, report."
AN II: Thank you very much for taking the time to read my story and continuing to put up with the long waits. Please, please, please review. I really would like to improve my writing and would appreciate all of your help in doing so! Thanks again!