Disclaimer: Same standing from the last time I checked. Am planning on asking Santa Claus for my wish this Christmas!
Dean shuddered in self-restraint, all he wanted to do was to pick Sammy up and run back to Bobby, maybe Bobby could patch him, Bobby was good at those things. But he hesitated to touch the bloody figure in front of him, his long fingers just falling short of the warm touch, feeling that even his smallest touch could break the fragile figure in front of him. God, there was so much blood. So much blood. Sam's face was covered in blood, and small trails pooled on the cave walls, smelling of iron and... blood. There was nothing else to it. Sam looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a freight train and lost. His arm was twisted in a weird way, Dean suspected it was broken, but there was nothing that looked like it hadn't been broken. Small tremors running through his taut muscles, Dean reached forward to the broken figure and placed his ear hovering on top of the bleeding nose.
Feeling weak with relief at hearing a breath, feeble though it was, Dean stood up on shaky legs and ran a trembling hand through his hair. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself, pushing away the overwhelming panic clawing at his heart, making him feel lightheaded. It would not help Sam if he broke down and the only thing Dean was worried about right now was Sam. Heck, worried didn't come close to what he was feeling. Terrified didn't come close to what he was feeling. Come on, Dean, come on, pull yourself together and help Sam, please.
He stood there uncertainly, torn between going for help and staying with his brother, he couldn't leave Sam now, not now. His addled mind somehow reminded him of the mobile phone in his pocket and he dug it out in a hurry, his fingers scrolling down the contacts list till a familiar name appeared: Bobby. He pressed the call button.
The next two hours passed in a blur. Dean felt like it was a lifetime and yet felt like it was two seconds. Bobby was there in five minutes, giving him orders to fetch the first aid kit from the Impala (which was back at the house, Bobby didn't know what was going on, so he had come with a salt-loaded shotgun, not much help at this time, so that was a precious ten more minutes wasted) and after he returned, he sat down on the cold cave bed and stared at Sam while Bobby patched up the broken man in front of him. It was hard going, the nonexistent light making work harder still, but Sam could not be moved until there was some semblance of himself put back together. But there was only so much Bobby could do and he turned to Dean, his mind made up to take Sam to the nearest emergency room. But he had to know what did this, it would make his work more easy figuring out how to patch Sam up.It was sad that they could not bring any vehicle down the narrow path, because transporting Sam back to the house was going to be a problem. Atleast the idjit boy was still breathing.
He looked up at Dean, calling him and shocking the boy out of his reverie. "Dean, tell me what happened here, I need to know."
Dean stared at him with glazed eyes, reflecting nothing but pain, horror and a certain numbness that preserved the sanity of his mind. But he quickly shook off the weight holding him down. The most important person now was Sam, anything for Sam, anything, what he wouldn't give to take Sam's place now.
"Shultir, Bobby. I don't even know what that means, I don't know where it went, can we kill it, is he gonna be fine, Bobby, what's a shultir, Bobby, SAVE HIM!"
The last words were screamed aloud, Dean was working himself into a frenzy, but Bobby barely responded. His mind was still in shock, trying to take in what Dean had just told him. With realisation came a growing dread. This was far from over. Sam would not die. Oh no, he won't. But the chances of him living were slim.
Even as he thought of all this, he was being shaken by Dean, trying to snap him out of his haze. "Bobby! Help him!"
Hesitating just for a second, Bobby glanced at the prone figure lying on the cave floor, blood pooling at regular intervals on the deep cuts, seeping out through the newly done stitches. Shit. Gritting his teeth, he bent down and picked Sam up, carrying him in a fireman's carry and walking slowly out of the cave. Dean stood in shock all this while, mind numbingly silent. After a while, he followed Bobby out of the cave, toward the little cottage which housed a junkyard too.
After a long tiresome walk, during which Bobby almost dropped with exhaustion, Sam almost seized around four times, and Dean almost threw up at the sight of his Sammy being in so much pain he could not move at all, they reached the cottage. Bobby at once placed Sam on the couch and ran into the kitchen, fetching some hot water in a bowl for Sam's wounds.
Dean rounded up on Bobby on the way out of the kitchen. Anger raged in his eyes, bordered by panic and agony. He growled at Bobby, standing in his way. "Bobby, we need to take Sammy to the hospital. This is not something we can patch up by ourselves. Now stop being a moron and get on with it."
Bobby just stared at the younger man, wondering how much of the information Dean would be able to take without breaking.
"Dean, sit down. The hospital can't help him now. Not now. It's too late. He contacted a shultir."
Dean remained standing stubbornly. "What exactly is that damned thing anyway? I am going to hunt down that bastard and kill him!"
Bobby sighed, walking around Dean and moving toward Sam lying on the bed.
"The good news is, you're out of your deal, Dean."
The shock in Dean's face was evident, the total disbelief. Bobby didn't know whether to laugh or to cry like hell for the man standing in front of him, in the process of losing the last of his family, yet saving himself. Damning himself for a fate far worse.
"Sam fulfilled his promise, Dean. He got you out of the deal. He got you out of your one way road down to hell. But, he paid a price. He's gone."
"Gone? Gone where? He's here, Bobby. We just need to look after him, we can take care of him, protect him. He'll be fine. He's still here."
Bobby sighed, something suspiciously like tears stinging his eyes when he heard the confusion in Dean's voice. God, wouldn't the Winchesters be given a break? Silently echoing Dean almost a year back, he thought, hadn't they lost enough already? Hadn't they given enough already?
"He's not here. He's gone, Dean. Into his own personal Hell."
How was the chapter? Please review! Work is also in progress on my other story, "Crawling on my knees."
Hopefully, I'll be motivated enough to not leave my laptop for even a second before I finish this story. ;)