**********

Sam pulled the trigger just as Gordon hurled the brick he'd used to break the window at Sam's head. He saw Gordon jerk back just before the brick hit him on the left cheek and eyebrow. The pain was unbelievable; his head swam for a few seconds. He was able to focus again just in time to see Gordon race out the door holding his left shoulder. Sam fired two more rounds at him, but he was moving slowly and missed Gordon. He jumped up to chase him down and immediately went down on his knees, seeing stars and feeling like he was going to vomit.

Sam tried again, but he was too wobbly. By the time he got to the door, Gordon's pickup was peeling out of the motel parking lot. Sam leaned with his back against the wall and his head tipped back, trying to tame the urge to heave. After a moment, he was able to make it to the bathroom to get a wet towel for his face. When he looked in the mirror, his left eye was already quite swollen. He figured he wouldn't be able to open it by morning. Well, he was damn lucky the brick hadn't hit his eye or he'd have to worry about not seeing out of it for a lot longer than a few days.

He heard sirens from far away. Someone had called the police because of the gunshots. Sam couldn't afford to be questioned by the police and have to explain his unregistered pistol. They would probably consider that reasonable cause and search the Impala. That was something he had to avoid at all costs. He quickly grabbed his bag and then realized he was going to have to look for his keys. The table they were on had been knocked over when Gordon came flying through the window.

It only took a couple of seconds to find the keys, but Sam could hear the sirens getting closer. He scooped them up, and with his head pounding, jumped into the Impala and raced out of the parking lot. It was tough to drive with his head ringing and his stomach instigating a rebellion, but he managed to get a few blocks away and pulled to the curb in front of a coffee shop.

Where was Dean? How had he known Gordon was in town? Was he in trouble? Was he hurt? Why did he have the woman he left with call, if he really had? All Sam had was questions and more questions. After his stomach had settled a bit and his head quit beating like a bass drum, he was able to think a little clearer. His first priority was to find Dean. He called their cell phone company and gave his name as Ritchie Blackmore. "I lost my cell phone earlier and can't find it anywhere. Could you turn on the GPS?" The agent asked for his security code and looked up the account. "Okay, Mr. Blackmore, your GPS is active. Good luck finding your phone."

Sam hung up and booted up his computer. He was lucky that the coffee shop he parked in front of had wireless internet. He brought up the program he needed and was baffled as to why there was no signal. That didn't make any sense, unless something had happened to Dean's phone. Dammit! That's just what he needed, more reasons to worry. Suddenly a spot on the screen started blinking. He was surprised to see the blip on the screen was almost on top of his location. He zoomed in and realized the phone was sending the signal from about a half block behind him.

**********

Millie opened the motel room door and came face to face with Gordon Walker and a sawed off shotgun. She stopped dead in her tracks, causing Dean to bump into her as he finished putting the battery back into his cell phone. "Well well well, lookee what we have here," Gordon snarled. He looked like crap. He had several small cuts on his face and his left shoulder was bleeding freely. "Get back in there. MOVE!"

"Gee Gordon, I didn't expect you until morning." Millie turned around waited for Dean to move back into the room.

"Gee Millie, I didn't expect you to screw the guy you were supposed to apprehend. It stinks like sex in here. You're disgusting." Gordon hit her in the middle of the back with the end of the shotgun, shoving her into Dean.

Dean caught her and said "You son of bitch, if you hurt her I'll kill you."

"I have no quarrel with you, Dean, but you're a means to an end. Your brother has to die. You know that. He got a lucky shot off earlier, as you can see." Gordon nodded toward his bloody shoulder. "Fortunately, I have you to draw him out. Dean, get over on the bed. Put those handcuffs on that are hanging there. And leave them looped through the bracket."

Dean looked like he was considering refusing. Seeing kind of shape Gordon was in, he knew he could take him easily. Gordon grabbed Millie and shoved the shotgun under her chin. "Go ahead, Dean, give me a reason to off this whore. You know I will do whatever I have to in order to accomplish my mission. She means nothing to me. How about to you?" Dean moved to the bed and once again put the handcuffs on. "I think I had more fun when she had me handcuffed."

"I'll just bet you did. Millie, I don't even have words for my opinion of you now. You were supposed to be the best. Is this how you do your job? Screw them, then handcuff them when they're not looking?" Gordon sat it one of the chairs by the table, keeping the shotgun trained on her.

"For your information, Gordon, I screwed him AFTER I had him handcuffed."

Dean smirked. 'Atta girl!' "Hell ya, she can arrest me anytime Gordo."

"Shut up, both of you. Millie, get some towels and bandage this shoulder up. Don't try anything stupid; this shotgun will be aimed at your boyfriend and it has a hair trigger." Millie got the towels and looked Gordon's shoulder over. Gordon adjusted the shotgun so it was aimed at her belly.

"You're going to have to take your T-shirt off."

"Cut it off. I'm not taking my attention off you and Dean for one second."

"Cut it off with what? My laser eyes? I don't have anything to cut it off with."

Gordon rammed the shotgun into Millie's stomach, knocking her down and making her curl up in pain. "Just make it happen, bitch." Millie gasped for air.

"GORDON, YOU SON OF A BITCH, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Dean roared from the bed as he jumped up and jerked on the handcuffs.

Millie was still curled into a ball on the floor, tears of pain running down her face. "Get up you lazy bitch and get this shoulder bandaged." Millie just laid there, rocking in the fetal position. She was still gasping for breath.

"Leave her alone, Gordon. Can't you see you hurt her? Bring that stuff over here, I'll patch you up. Just leave her alone." Dean was worried. He didn't know Millie well, but from what he did know of her, she was no sissy la la. A woman doesn't make a career of being a bounty hunter if she isn't pretty tough.

Millie had uncurled enough to pull herself up to a sitting position leaning against the wall. Her knees were pulled up and her arms were holding her stomach. She was still breathing in short gaspy breaths and had gone as white as a sheet.

"Millie, are you alright? Millie?" Dean was getting seriously worried. Gordon must have caused some damage for her to be reacting so harshly. He just hoped she wouldn't go into shock before he could get her some help. "Millie, can you hear me? Stay with me." Millie finally nodded and gasped out "I'll be okay."

"She's faking, Dean, don't worry about her. You don't get to be as successful as she is at being a bounty hunter without picking up a few acting skills. And a few other skills, apparently."

"Shut up, Gordon" Dean snarled.

"Ever the hero, huh Dean?" Gordon shifted the shotgun to his left hand. Because of his shoulder he didn't have great control over it, but then, with a sawed off shotgun, you didn't need great control. With his right hand, he picked up a towel and held it against his shoulder. Gordon looked over at Millie. "You about done playing damsel in distress or do you need some more incentive to get me bandaged up?"

Millie carefully levered herself off the floor. She couldn't stand up straight, so she hobbled over to Gordon hunched over. She grasped the hole in his t-shirt and tore it open up to the collar and then the other direction to the hem of his sleeve, leaving his shoulder exposed like a peeled banana. She took the towel and daubed the wound to clear it of blood so she could see the damage.

"It looks like it went through. I don't have anything to clean it with except water. You need medical care." Millie shuffled to the bathroom to wet a hand towel. If the motel manager wasn't pissed about the bracket in the wall, all these bloody towels would put him over the edge. Oh well, not exactly her biggest concern right now.

She stopped on the way back to Gordon, bent over with her hands on her knees. The grimace on her face, and the fact she was breathing like she was in a Lamaze class, ratcheted up Dean's concern to a new level. After a moment she stood up and moved to Gordon's side. She wiped the blood off his arm with the wet towel, all the time fantasizing about ramming her thumb into the wound and twisting. Unfortunately, Gordon had the gun aimed at her midsection again, so that wouldn't do anything but get her shot. But it would feel good.

Millie stopped working on Gordon's shoulder for a second and swayed on her feet. "I'm going to be sick." She dashed for the bathroom as fast as she could and barely made it to the sink in time. Dean and Gordon could hear the sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. After a moment the water came on in the sink.

"Still think she's faking, Gordon? You both need medical help. You're bleeding all over the place and I'm pretty sure Millie is bleeding internally. Let me go so I can help you." Gordon used to be a reasonable man. He might listen to Dean. Okay, that is, he was reasonable until his fixation with Sam started.

Gordon rolled his eyes at Dean. "I only have to live long enough to kill Sam. And no, I'm not taking those cuffs off."

**********