A/N: Yay! The next chapter of How To Fix A Winchester, and another prompt done! This one is for Sylvia37, who wanted to see a season five hunt with Dean, Bobby and a wounded Sam saving the day!
I hope you like it!
Reviews are love!
Feel free to prompt, I work my prompts in order. I have two or three more to go at this point, and I am really enjoying the challenge. Just remember, no smut, no bashing.
As Always,
EverReader
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox
How To Fix A Winchester – Chapter Nine
"The Unfortunate Thing About Hiking"
Sam trudged wearily behind Dean and Bobby as the men made their way up the mountain. Normally, a Black Dog hunt wouldn't be a three-man job, but according to Bobby, this had been no ordinary Black Dog sighting.
This was a pack of Black Dogs.
Bobby claimed he had never heard of anything like it. Black Dogs were normally solitary predators, but these days, all the things that went bump in the night seemed to be bumping a little harder, now that Lucifer had risen.
Thanks to Sam.
Sam winced as a brush snapped back in his face as Dean passed, nearly hitting him in the eyes, and he sighed, letting the distance grow between him and Dean. Things were still beyond strained between the brothers.
Perhaps glacial was the better word.
Things had started to look up after they had taken on the forest god back in the wax museum, but the Winchester's tour of Heaven had pretty much destroyed whatever they had managed to start building back between them.
"Sam, move your ass!" Dean said harshly as the last of the daylight faded away.
Sam gritted his teeth against the angry, dispirited words that wanted to burst free of his chest.
He was exhausted, he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept the whole night through without Lucifer whispering in his ear. He had started to get a handle on tuning him out, at least a little, but then the Heaven thing had happened, which led to Dean's amulet being thrown away-
Sam slammed a lid on his thoughts at that point, refusing to dwell in those awful moments again when he should be focusing on the hunt.
He stumbled a little, and looking down, he saw his laces had come undone. He knelt swiftly to redo the knots.
"SAM!" Dean called again, and Sam closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to calm himself as he heard Dean and Bobby moving further up the trail.
Had he already been up and moving again, he probably never would have heard it. But he was still kneeling, motionless as he strained to listen, senses suddenly on red alert.
There.
A low, alive sound, like harsh, guttural breathing...
Or a growl.
"Shit." Sam mouthed the word silently to himself as he reached for his gun.
Black Dogs were easy to put out of commission temporarily, silver bullets would do the trick, but to truly kill them, once they were down, a silver spike had to be driven into their heart, a gruesome task that seemed to have been the start of many of both the werewolf and vampire legends so prominent in the mainstream media.
"Dean!" He stage whispered as loudly as he dared, not wanting to startle the creature into attacking before he'd pinpointed it's actual location.
"Dean!" Sam said again, searching for the tell-tale red eyes that were often a hunter's only warning of a Black Dog's location.
Finally, off to his right, he sighted a pair of eyes, maybe six feet ahead, in the deep shadows.
Then he saw a second pair of eyes to his left.
"DEAN!" He called as the first pair of eyes rapidly closed the distance, just as the sun's fading rays sank beneath the mountains in the distance.
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"SAM!" Dean called, turning on a dime to barrel back down the trail as the echoes of two gunshots faded away into the night.
"Dean!" Bobby called out warningly, but Dean paid no heed.
Dammit, how far behind had that kid managed to get in the two minutes Dean had taken his eyes off him?
He stumbled into a clearing, torn shrubbery and broken branches strewn about everywhere. A dark substance matted the grass, already drying in the humid night air, and Dean knelt, touching it with two careful fingers, bringing it up to his nose.
Human.
"Shit!" Dean cursed, standing up, cupping his hands around his mouth to pitch his voice farther down the trail.
"SAMMY" He called again, not caring if he brought the whole damn pack down on them.
Where was Sam?
"Dean." Bobby said, pointing to another dark splash against the bark of one of the trees. This patch was steaming slightly.
Black Dog, then.
Sam had wounded at least one of them.
"SAMMY! ANSWER ME DAMN YOU!" He hollered, becoming more and more alarmed by the moment. He had only heard two gunshots, so unless Sam had gotten damn lucky, they had at least one angry, wounded Black Dog on the loose.
And no little brother.
"SAM!" Dean called, getting ready to fire his gun once in the air.
It was a foolish move, John was probably about to start cussing him out from Heaven, it would draw every nightmare in a five mile radius straight to them but as long as Sam came too, Dean would risk it.
Bobby stopped him at the last minute, though.
"Dammit, Dean, ya idjit, will ya stop and listen for a moment?" Bobby hissed lowly.
Dean scowled at him wordlessly, but he stilled nonetheless, listening to the deep quiet.
The really, deep quiet.
Dean sucked in a breath, eyes widening as they flew over to Bobby, who nodded in acknowledgment.
There was no rustling of small animals, no crickets, no cicadas.
Just absolute quiet.
"Fuck me..." Dean muttered as the first Black Dog stalked out of the underbrush, quickly followed by four more.
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Sam had gotten damn lucky, if you could call it that.
His first shot had plugged the attacking black dog squarely in the forehead, and it had tumbled back in surprise, falling into a ravine that Sam hadn't even realized ran parallel to the trail there, it was so well camouflaged by the shrubbery and the darkness.
The second shot went wide, however, and Sam screamed out a breathless gasp of pain even as he reached into his jacket for one of the three silver spikes he had. Each of the men had some, Bobby had had ten ready on hand when the sighting came across the hunter grapevine, and Sam and Bobby had each taken three and Dean (of course) had taken the last four.
His first strike missed the monsters heart, and he overbalanced under the weight of the creature. With a feeling on panic, he realized he was falling too far to simply had fallen over.
He was falling over into the same ravine the first black dog have.
The dog tightened it's jaws on Sam's shoulder, and black stars began to dance in front of his eyes as he did his best to position the spike against the monster's heart, and hoped gravity would do the rest.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he first woke up. A heavy, stinking, steaming weight was nearly smothering him, and as he went to push it off, his shoulder burst into flames of agony.
"God.." he choked out, bracing himself and shoving again despite the pain.
He could barely breath under the weight of what he realized was the second black dog.
His plan had worked (if you could call a rather desperate, last minute Hail Mary pass a plan) and the Dog's own weight had impaled it on Sam's spike when he hit the bottom of the ravine. They had landed on some bushes, and while Sam was fairly sure he now had splinters in some unfortunate places, he'd managed to avoid serious injury.
Other than the bleeding, screaming mess that was his shoulder.
Checking to make sure that the black dog was well and truly dead, he slowly stood up.
His pack was nowhere to be found, perhaps it was still at the top of the ravine. He needed it, though, there were some bandages he could use to stem the bleeding so as to be at least semi-functional until he found his brother and Bobby.
All the thoughts in his mind came to a screeching halt as he realized Dean was nowhere to be seen.
Dean had only be a few dozen yards up the trail, max. Sam couldn't see him, but more than that, he couldn't hear him. Checking his watch, he tried to guess what time it would have been when he was attacked.
He finally guesstimated that he must have been unconscious for at least forty-five minutes, which would explain why the wounds on his shoulder had already started to stiffen, the blood tacky as it started to clot slowly.
Luckily, it seemed to be mostly a flesh wound, Sam had a habit of dressing in layers, and this was one of the reasons. His two shirts and jacket had helped shield him, only a small degree, true, but considering Sam was about to scale back up the eight foot ravine he had fallen into, he'd take any help he could get.
But first things first.
Taking a second to be glad the dog had mauled his left shoulder and not his right, he drew out a second silver spike. He picked up his gun from a few feet away, holstering it at the small of his back. Then he walked over to the body of the first Black Dog. The bullet hole was already starting to heal, the dog's legs starting to twitch as it began to reanimate.
Using his leg, Sam shoved the dog's body over onto it's side, exposing it's ribcage.
Bracing himself for the pain the movement would bring his bad shoulder, even though he was using his other hand, Sam brought the silver spike down.
Hard.
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Dean groaned and rubbed his eyes, then the back of his head as he waited for the darkness to clear from his sight.
When it didn't, he knew he was in trouble.
His exploring hand found a tender knot on the back of his skull and he winced in the darkness as his fingers probed the wound. He didn't feel any blood, which was a good thing, he supposed.
Would be awful nice to be able to see, though.
"Dean, that better be you, ya idjit." Bobby's rough voice floated through the darkness, and Dean turned towards the sound as he reached into his pocket for his Zippo.
Flicking it open, he used the meager light to examine his surroundings, then wished he hadn't.
It reminded Dean a little of the lair of the Wendigo he and Sam had hunted all those years ago in Colorado. Back packs and other gear were strewn about, most shredded almost beyond recognition, along with shoes and binoculars and walking sticks.
And bones.
"So..." He said, turning to face where Bobby leaned against the wall of the cave they had somehow ended up in, "Evil lair?"
Bobby snorted, then grimaced, holding his shoulder. "What gave it away, Einstein."
"Shoulder?" Dean asked, coming over to the older man.
"Dislocated. Hurts like a sonovabitch." Bobby grumbled.
"On three?" Dean offered, as he handed Bobby the light to hold in his good hand as he took up position at the man's bad side, ready to force his shoulder back into place.
"Just do it, I ain't no little girl!" Bobby snarled, and despite the severity of the situation, Dean smiled.
With a practiced movement, he pushed Bobby's shoulder back into place with an audible pop. The older man dropped the lighter in his pain, but Dean had been expecting that, and his hand shot out even as they lost the light.
"Balls!" Bobby cursed.
"Do you remember what happened?" Dean asked as his fingers spun the wheel and light returned.
"Ya mean, do I remember the pack of Black Dog's tossing us around like chew toys before carrying us off up the mountain to this bloody cave an hour ago? Ya, it's pretty much seared into my brain." Bobby said sarcastically.
Dean's grin faded. "What about Sam?" He asked.
Bobby shook his head. "No sign of him. Best I can reckon, he's still out on the mountain."
Or he's already dead, Dean's mind voiced the thought silently, but Dean pushed it away.
Sam had to be okay.
"Have you tried getting out?" Dean asked Bobby.
Bobby shook his head. "In the dark, I was just as likely to fall off a cliff. And anytime I made too much noise, red eyes would appear. I reckoned I'd better just stay quiet until you were back in commission."
"So they're in the cave with us?" Dean asked as he reached for a silver spike. He frowned when his fingers only encountered two instead of four.
He cursed quietly. "Bobby, you still have your spikes?"
Bobby made a face. "Just one. Used one back in the clearing, and the other was knocked out of my hand right after. From the way they were dragging us, I'd guess your other two fell off on the ride."
Dean frowned. "Okay. So, two spikes, and at least three or four dogs?"
"At least." Bobby agreed. He leaned down and picked up what appeared to be a hand carved walking stick.
"Pity, it's well made." Bobby remarked as he picked up a torn sweater from the ground. Wrapping the material around the broken end of the walking stick, he fashioned it into a crude torch.
Dean picked up a broken camping lantern near his feet. It was broken beyond use, but some of the oil was still inside, and Bobby held the torch out to Dean as he poured the remaining oil over the sweater. Holding his lighter to it unto it blazed to light, he reached into his jacket and handed Bobby one of the two remaining spikes. Taking the other in one hand and his gun in the other, he nodded.
"Let's go find Sam."
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Sam studied the cave from the position he chosen, carefully upwind from the creatures. One was pacing back and forth, and he had seen three others head inside only a few moments before.
He counted again grimly in his head. He had half a clip of silver bullets left, his back up clip had been missing from his ravaged pack when he'd regained the top of the ravine.
He had one of his original three silver spikes left, and another he'd found in the clearing, next to Bobby's gun. He'd followed the trail from there, no blood, thankfully, but from their tracks, the creatures had obviously been carrying loads, and Sam could only hope that meant Dean and Bobby. He'd never heard of Black Dog's carrying off their victims before, but he'd never heard of a pack of Black Dogs, either.
His shoulder still throbbed insistently, and Sam could feel fresh blood trickling down his shoulder under the gauze he'd haphazardly wrapped around himself.
The climb out of the ravine had been far from pleasant, and if Sam were being honest with himself, he'd have to admit he felt more than a little unsteady on his feet. He also felt the tell tale signs of a fever coming on, which meant he needed to move fast.
Black Dog bites were known to fester, and the last time he'd been bitten by one, back when he had first started hunting with John and Dean, John had loaded Sam up with a cocktail of antibiotics so powerful he'd finally started to break out in a rash from his body trying to break them all down.
He needed to find Dean and Bobby and kill of the rest of the pack before his shoulder took him completely out of commission.
Carefully, he took aim, mindful of the fact that every shot needed to count.
Exhaling, he pulled the trigger.
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Bobby waved the torch at the Black Dog, forcing the creature back even as the two hunters were forced back into the crevice in the caves wall.
They'd managed to take out the first two creatures, but now they were out of spikes.
And Dean had one bullet left.
"Better make that shot count, then we have to hoof it!" Bobby shouted over the monster's snarling.
"I'm trying!" Dean called back. This Dog seemed smarter than the others, and it was quite a bit larger too, leading Dean to think that it must have been the leader.
Seeing an opening, he squeezed the trigger, but the creature shifted at the last moment, and the bullet punctured through it's neck, sending out a spray of dark, steaming blood.
It wasn't a fatal shot, not even a temporarily fatal one, but the sudden blood loss and pain took the creature down on one knee for a moment, stunned and wounded.
"Bobby, run!" Dean called, knowing that the older hunter had a better chance of making it out if he had a head start.
And if someone stayed behind to occupy the Black Dog.
"No way in hell, ya idjit!" Bobby yelled back, drawing out his pocket knife, and Dean reluctantly did the same. The dog was already regaining it's feet, and if it was mad before, now it's red eyes glinted in absolute fury.
Suddenly, from behind the creature, the sound of another shot rang out, and the creature jerked.
The other shooter's angle was wrong, they'd hit the dog in the shoulder, and the monster pivoted, lunging in one smooth movement toward it's new attacked. Bobby's torch had already started burning low, and in the jumping, guttering light Dean struggled to make out what was happening.
He recognized the lanky frame wrestling with the Black Dog, all long arms and longer legs.
Sam.
Dean breathed a wordless sigh of relief even as he searched for a way to aid his brother.
His good intentions were unnecessary, however, as Sam, with a flash of silver catching the last of the torch's light, shoved a silver spike up and out, perfectly hitting the sweet angle between the Dog's rib's, and with a mournful howl, the creature collapsed, going still.
"Fucking A, Sammy!" Dean cried triumphantly, moving to his brother.
Sam didn't answer however, dazedly shaking his head, and then, as Dean watched in horror, he started to collapse in slow motion.
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Sam looked around in sleepy confusion. He was...huh.
Oh...Okay.
He recognized the room now.
He was at Bobby's.
How did he get to Bobby's? Wasn't he somewhere else?
"Morning princess. Took you long enough. I was about to put up a Craigslist add to audition for a prince charming to come and give you a kiss." Dean's voice came from his right, and Sam looked over.
Dean was sitting on the other bed (Dean's bed, the sleepy voice in his head added, Dean always slept closest to the door).
"How..." Sam trailed off, trying to marshal his thoughts, but his mind felt fuzzy, like his head was full of cotton. With a start, he realized he was hooked up to an IV.
"Three days." Dean's voice was cheerful enough, but underneath it, Sam could hear the worry and fear.
"What...happened?" Sam finally managed.
Dean arched a brow. "Before or after Bobby and I carried your unconscious ass down the mountain?" He asked.
"Umm. Black Dog." Sam said, closing his eyes against the onslaught of the bright sun.
He could hear the sound of Dean moving and a moment later, the light attacking his eyes dimmed. He opened them carefully to see that Dean had shut the blinds.
"Thanks." He mumbled in his rusty voice. Dean came over and carefully helped Sam sit up. Dean held up a bottle a water, and Sam reached for it unthinkingly.
"My shoulder?" He said suddenly, hand paused in midair as he looked over to his shoulder.
It appeared completely undamaged, no stitches, no bandages, no scars.
Confused, he looked over to Dean.
"Cas." Dean offered, as Sam took the water bottle from him. Dean had already cracked the seal, and Sam found himself grateful, as his hands were a little shaky.
"His mojo's not what it was before, now that he's cut off from Heaven." Dean explained. "He was able to fix the damage to your shoulder, but the infection had already set it, and you'd lost a lot of blood."
Sam thought about Dean's words slowly, shaking his head. He didn't feel great, but he didn't feel like he'd almost bled to death, either.
"You take me to the hospital?" He asked uncertainly.
Dean shifted, then held out his arm for Sam to see the fading bruise inside the crook of his elbow.
"Bobby has a doctor friend. Brought over the saline drip. I already knew you and I were a match, so I just had him go ahead and tap a vein."
"Your...blood?" Sam asked a little incredulously. It wasn't that strange, on the surface, they had actually both donated for each other before, which was why Dean had known he and Sam were a match.
But that had been before, before.
Before Heaven and Ruby and Lucifer and the Demon's blood.
Dean met Sam's eyes. "Yeah." He said simply, and in that moment, Sam felt something click between them, something that had been missing for months, maybe years, if he were honest.
"I hope you used protection last week at that bar in Memphis, because that red-head might not have charged you, but only working girls wear heels like that." Sam said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the pillow.
Already, sleep was tugging at him, pulling him down again. Drowsily, he felt competent hands tug the blankets higher, as Dean snorted in amusement.
"I gotcha, Sammy." He heard Dean whisper softly as he drifted off.