Ok, so I forgot to put in a disclaimer... (again)
But seriously, if I owned them there is absolutely no way, no how, I'd be spending my time writing… anything… at all! EVER! Sam and Dean all mine... Honestly, I would have WAY better things to do with my time! (Imagination starts to wander…)
But here I am… (SIGH!) so, obviously I don't own anything Kripke has created (except the DVDs).
All things Kripke, now belong to Gamble; including the Winchester brothers, all Supernatural characters, the Leviathan, Bobby and even the Impala. I'm just going to borrow them for a while, perhaps have my evil way with them… then I guess I'll have to give them back.
Anyway, on with the story... I hope you enjoy.
The darkness parted reluctantly, clinging to his consciousness like tar. Dean forced his eyes open and blinked with confusion.
"Hey, are you ok? Dean are you hurt too?"
Someone was speaking to him.
Dean fought away the searing stab of pain shooting up his leg and the lingering haze of nothingness to gaze upon the source of the words. He finally found Steve looking down on him. He realized that maybe he had lost a minute or two to unconsciousness, because somehow the EMT had moved to his side, and now had his hand firmly placed on his shoulder to prevent him from trying to move again. Dean didn't answer him, instead he batted Steve's hand away and raised himself up onto one elbow to examine his surroundings in an attempt to recall what had happened.
"The hell?" He wasn't entirely sure why he'd checked out, but the memory of their dire situation came back instantly; a Leviathan had attacked Sam - had attacked the both of them. And Dean couldn't afford to leave them exposed to the Leviathan again, should there be another one lurking somewhere in the shadows. He certainly couldn't afford to pass out again. His scrutinizing gaze instantly fixed back on Sam - his one constant; Sam whom he'd always relied on and who was now about as stable as out-of-date nitro glycerin. Sam was unconscious again – and Dean wondered if he'd imagined Sam waking up at all because he was still definitely out cold. And he was looking deathly pale in the moonlight. The EMT taking Sam's blood pressure looked concerned, and was checking his pupils once again. Dean couldn't help but speculate that something was seriously wrong.
"Is he ok?" Dean demanded to know, clamping his fist around Steve's jacket sleeve to steady himself. "Sammy? Is he ok?"
"Don't worry, Trent's seeing to your brother," the EMT reassured him, knowing that now that Sam was once again unconscious, his partner could tend to their patient without his assistance. "But, Dean, how about you. Are you hurt too?" They weren't expecting two patients, dispatch had only mentioned one casualty. Steve scolded himself for not putting two and two together earlier by noticing that something was up when Dean made no attempts to stand up, or move from his position on the ground. Not any more. What with Dean passing out and now in obvious pain and looking five shades too pale and sweating like he'd just run a marathon the EMT suspected something was definitely awry.
After a quick visual examination the EMT noticed Dean's bloodied jean's leg. However he hoped that because Dean hadn't until now appeared to be in a great deal of pain that the damage was only minor. "How about I take a look at you, ok? Just take it easy. What is it? Your leg?"
"No… you gotta help Sam," Dean tried to object, however the paramedic was pretty much the only thing preventing him from collapsing altogether, with his firm hand on his shoulder to steady his now floundering position.
"Trent's got it all under control, Dean," Steve reassured him. "How about you tell me what's going on with you? You're not ok, are you Dean? Are you hurt?"
"Hmmm… it's nothing… just hurt m'leg… it's ok, you gotta help Sam first. He's not good," Dean grimaced, gulping down the pain, whilst trying to appear perfectly alright.
"Dean, Trent's looking after him." Steve patted Dean's shoulder to reassure him. "Aren't you, Trent? How's he doing?" he queried the other paramedic, to prove his point.
"He's still out, but his vitals are stable," came the reply.
"Dean, that's good. For the time being your brother's doing ok, " Steve said to him, reaching for his wrist and taking his pulse, "and Trent's doing everything he can to help him stay that way."
"So he's ok?" Dean demanded, snatching his hand away; still needing his worries over Sam to be appeased.
"He's doing as well as we can hope, given his injuries," Steve replied, "but I'm a little concerned about you. You want to tell me what's going on?" The EMT was concerned by Dean's rapid pulse and the swiftly growing blood stain just below his knee. "Is it your leg?"
Steve moved to place his hand on Dean's knee, a move that made Dean gasp in trepidation and swat his arm away.
"Umm, yeah." Dean admitted before the EMT could make contact again. Steve took note of his apprehensive response and withdrew his hand. "It's umm… I think its busted," Dean admitted – his damned leg was certainly throbbing up a storm.
"This guy, he attacked you too?" Steve asked, giving Dean a gentle nudge to suggest that he lie down. Then he collected a pair of scissors from his kit and carefully shifted down towards Dean's lower leg. "You wanna tell me what happened?" Steve queried as he started to cut his jeans leg open. "How'd you get hurt?"
"He tossed me," Dean replied, getting nervous as the paramedic neared the site of the injury, "and I landed kinda funny… Aggghh… Sonofabitch!" Dean jack knifed up in screaming agony when the movement of the EMT's tailoring skills shifted his leg. His own abrupt response only compounded the degree of pain.
"Oh crap! Sorry, man." The EMT was amazed when he saw the full extent of the damage. How he could have missed the seriousness of Dean's injuries had him baffled. Dean was right about his leg being busted, only it wasn't just fractured, his tibia had ripped through the skin and was now protruding out through the gory, bloody mess of shredded flesh. Steve reached into his kit and pulled out a small vial, still bewildered by how Dean could so efficiently hide his pain. Although that ability was definitely crumbling. His unexpected patient was now in a shit load of agony, and looking even paler than before. "Try and breathe, Dean, I'll give you something for the pain."
"No!" Dean insisted when he saw the syringe. There was every chance there were more Leviathans lurking about, and he couldn't risk leaving Sam unprotected. "No drugs!"
"Christ, man, you have an open, compound fracture and I'm betting it hurts like hell. You don't have be in pain," he replied, measuring out an adequate dose of morphine.
"Huh? I have a what?" Dean was shocked by the sight of bone – his bone – jutting out through a three inch gash just below his knee. And damned if his pain threshold didn't just plummet to rock bottom by the very sight of it! God he was really going to puke now, or pass out! Or both! "No, no drugs," he insisted. The guy had no idea the kind of hurting Hell could dish out: but Dean knew all too well. And he sure as hell could handle a busted leg – at least he hoped so.
"Ok, look if you're allergic to anything, if you've had a bad reaction before, let me know what to. I've got a few choices here," Steve informed him, putting the syringe aside and waving his hand over his medical kit. How Dean had coped so far with what had to be excruciating agony he had no idea.
"No, nothing. Just can't," Dean maintained. "No drugs!"
"You understand, there's different stuff I can give you?" Steve gave him a concerned look, wondering if Dean had had a previous drug addiction or the like. No matter what, he had to be sure Dean was adamant about refusing any analgesics, especially when he was now in so much pain.
"Look, no drugs, ok!" Dean insisted, blinking away certain oblivion, still struggling to rope in his uncontrolled pain reflexes. 'Suck it up', he told himself, 'breathe through it'.
"Ok, it's your choice," Steve finally conceded and ripped open a sterile gauze pad. "You just let me know if you change your mind, ok?" Steve hoped he would.
"No, no drugs," Dean panted, pulling his pain back in check, "nothing!"
"Ok, but this may hurt a little." Steve gave him a grave look that conveyed his true meaning - it was going to do more than hurt just a little. Steve had to dress the gory wound.
"Aggghhrrrr! God damned, son-of-a-bitch!" Dean hissed when the paramedic covered the gaping gash. He really could have gone some serious, industrial strength meds and maybe a bottle of whiskey – or two. He was fighting the nauseating pain with all his strength; the urge to puke battling with the growing sensation to pass out again.
"That's it Dean, breathe through it," Steve patted him on the shoulder and gave him a moment to get his shit together.
"What's going on?" Trent queried Steve.
Steve gave Trent an incredulous gaze and shook his head. "Can you believe this guy's got an open tibia fracture over here," he queried. Dean gave the other EMT a brief, sheepish glance, with an expression that read something along the lines of 'go figure'. Then he moaned and slumped to the ground, willing himself not to be defeated by the overwhelming pain.
"What?" Trent replied, "seriously, a compound fracture?" He was just as surprised as Steve that not only was Dean also injured, but that they had two patients. "Freaking Dispatch, can't relay the correct information for shit!" he muttered – one patient, that's all they'd been told.
"How's he doing?" Steve queried his partner, wondering how their other patient was fairing.
"After his last episode?" Trent shook his head, amazed by Sam's violent outburst. "He's still unresponsive, and I'm not liking the length of unconsciousness. BP's still rising," he relayed back to his partner.
Dean's head whipped around, the paramedic's words bouncing around in his head like a warning alarm: Sam wasn't ok. Through the haze of pain he wasn't sure if he'd heard right. He took several deep breaths, pushing his pain aside as best he could to hear the EMTs discussion regarding Sam.
"He's showing signs of intracranial pressure," Trent informed Steve gravely.
Dean knew just by the way Trent had relayed the information that whatever it was that he'd said about Sam, it wasn't good. He struggled to stay focused, everything was a blurry, disjointed haze. He wanted to demand that Steve explain what was wrong with Sam but his mouth was bone dry and he couldn't quite formulate any coherent words around his panting breath and pounding heart.
"We're gonna have to get him on the bus ASAP," Trent continued.
'Shit!' Dean's concerns exploded instantly. Something was definitely not good. Dean jerked upwards as he made a move to sit once more, to check on Sam for himself. Or at least to demand an explanation as to Sam's condition, however shifting so abruptly proved the wrong move and he was floored by the explosion of pain that erupted up his leg. "Arrrgh!" he hissed.
Steve's hand was instantly on Dean's shoulder again, with his concerned gaze hovering over him. "Dean, mate, you've gotta lie still," he urged him. Then his attention returned to Trent. "I've got to stabilize this fracture first, before he manages to further antagonize the injury. I'm going to have to make sure he doesn't try to up and walk, fracture or no fracture. Can you get the gurney's out? "
"Yeah," Trent replied, rechecking Sam's oxygen mask before heading back to the ambulance. "Full length splint?"
"Yeah," Steve replied, returning his attention back to Dean. "Ok Dean, let's…"
"Intracranial what?" Dean gasped, finally finding his breath, "what's that mean… what's wrong… with Sam?"
"Mean's your brother's suffered a head injury and we need to get him to hospital."
"What? That's bad, isn't it? Really bad. Shit, what the hell are you waiting for?" Dean demanded, struggling against Steve's firm grip on his shoulder. "Get him to the damned hospital!"
"Well, first we gotta get you sorted out." Steve wasn't about to let him try and move again.
"No, you gotta take him, I'm ok," Dean insisted, still trying to sit up. "Please, we gotta go."
"We will, but first we have to take care of you too," Steve pushed him back down.
"I'm fine, really, let's go," Dean insisted, still struggling to be on their way.
"Sorry, but no you're not." Steve continued to hold him down. "We're not going anywhere until you're both stable and prepped for transport," Steve replied. "So, are you hurt anywhere else?"
"What, no," Dean lied. In reality everything was starting to ache. His shoulder hurt and his ribs protested his every breath. He'd hit that car like sledge hammer. "Just make sure Sam's ok!"
"We are, and the quicker you co-operate with me the quicker we can be on the road." The EMT began removing Dean's jacket, and without even thinking about what was happening Dean helped him. "So let's just try it again, shall we? Fill me in here, where's it hurt?" Steve wasn't really believing Dean's continuing denials of pain, not after seeing the damage to his leg. And to prove the paramedic's assessment correct, Dean hissed in pain when he pressed against his bruised ribs. "Uh, hum… hurt when you breathe?"
"Yeah, maybe… I guess so," Dean moaned, wrapping his hand over the right side of his chest, resigned to at least admit to the worst of his aches and pains. "Seriously, nothing else." Steve seemed pretty adamant about bussing both Winchesters to the hospital, so the quicker he got this over with the better – he wasn't about to delay Sam's need for an ER by so much as a second. Steve's examination extended down to his abdomen, and Dean was surprised to find that there was a spot just above his hip bone that was more than a little tender too.
Trent returned with a splint and one of the gurneys. "How're we looking?"
"Fractured tibia, possible fractured fibula, contusions to ribs and lower abdomen, but vitals are stable," Steve replied, squeezing Dean's shoulder as he replied, "but he's refusing any kind of analgesia."
"What?" Trent knelt down by Steve's side to help splint his leg. "Hey, Buddy, we got some good stuff," he informed Dean.
"No," Dean hissed, fighting the urge to give in to the EMT's suggestion. The pain was so intense he was struggling to think straight.
"Dean," Steve said to him, "I hate to tell you this but we have to splint your leg, and its gonna hurt, I mean really…"
"Hurt like a fucking bitch? Yeah, I get it!" Dean snapped back. "I just want you to get my brother to the freaking hospital, so do whatever you have to!"
"Dean…" Steve sighed, fighting a losing battle, but trying none-the-less, "after we splint your leg we have to get you onto a gurney. Trust me, you're going to want something."
"NO! Damn it, no!" Dean screamed at him. Did the paramedic not get that Sam had to be in a hospital like now! Why the hell was he arguing with him? "Just do it and stop wasting time!"
"Ok, ok. We'll be as careful as we can," Steve nodded to his partner, motioning him to slip the splint under Dean's leg. "Here we go…" Steve braced his leg with his huge hands, keeping the fractured limb as immobile as he could as Trent carefully slipped the splint under.
"ARRGGGHHHH!" Dean shot bolt upright with the pain, with fists clenched ready to deck both EMTs.
"Ok, ok, Dean, take it easy," Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and eased him back down. "Worst's over. Breath, ok, in and out… that's it, breathe through it."
Dean let rip with a string of expletives that would have made a lumberjack blush. He went a bit vague after that, lost in a suffocating haze of pain, but not really noticing as the EMT secured the splint straps over his leg. There was another eruption of pain when the paramedics gently lifted him up onto the gurney, however the sensation melded with the already ongoing agony into one long episode of endurance. Still he battled to keep his wits about him, to ensure Sam was safe, staving off unconsciousness with sheer determination.
Full cognition didn't really return until both he and Sam were in the ambulance, with Trent sitting in between them both. And the EMT was talking on his two way… something about Sioux Falls General. And Dean knew there was something he should remember about that… he just couldn't fight the pain long enough to remember what it was.
TBC
Please read and review, it's cookies and warm milk for the soul and some small consolation for not actually owning either of the Winchesters.