This one is for you SexySadie88! Thanks for your patience and support!

*****

Sam looked over his shoulder at the motel behind him and across the street. He knew Dean was there. What he didn't know was the situation. Though he wanted to run in there with guns blazing, he was smart enough to refrain. He needed to know more. Once he had Dean, they could worry about Gordon.

He got out of the impala and went to the trunk. Flipping open the hidden compartment, Sam grabbed another clip for his gun and changed it for the partially used one. He put a second one in his jacket pocket and passed by the holy water. He was sure the woman with Dean wasn't a demon. She would have never called to warn him if she was. He tried to think what else he needed to take with him, but the concussion made his thoughts thick like molasses. His pistol would have to do.

He eased the trunk closed and headed across the street. He didn't even know what kind of car Millie had been driving. DAMMIT! How was he supposed to know which room they were in? He couldn't very well carry his computer along, and even if he did, the GPS wouldn't be that exact. He stopped when he got to the motel wall, grimacing in pain. His eyes swept through the parking lot. Gordon's truck! Jackpot! Of course, that meant he had to deal with both Gordon and the woman. Sam grumbled under his breath, 'I know you can't have everything go right, but is it asking too much for just ONE thing to?'

Sam walked nonchalantly down the sidewalk in front of the rooms as if he was just going for ice. When he got within two rooms of Gordon's truck, he ducked down and tried to blend in with the shadows. Coming upon the first window, he peered through a crack in the curtains. A family. He stayed low and moved under their window to the next one. The curtain was pulled tight on this one, so he listened for a minute. He couldn't hear anything but the television. Well, he'd have to figure out which room by process of elimination.

He moved on to the third window. Staying low, he tried to peer inside. Again the curtains were closed tight, but he could hear voices. They were muffled, but he was pretty sure he heard "… enough to kill Sam. And no, I'm not taking those cuffs off." Sounded like he'd found the right one. Unless, of course, there were two Sams out there people were trying gank.

Sam knew going through the front would probably get all of them killed. Not to mention that was what Gordon expected him to do. That only left the bathroom. He headed around to the back of the hotel. The window was high, and not very large, but he should be able to squeeze through it. Doing it quietly would be the real challenge. Sam really wished Dean was here to help; he was always better at picking locks and opening windows.

Sam looked up and down the alley for something he could stand on. He finally spotted a crate that would have to do. After fetching it, he climbed up and listened at the bathroom window. "Get your ass in here!" came through loud and clear. The light went out in the bathroom and Sam got to work on the bathroom lock. It was a cheap old motel with a swivel lock where the top and bottom panes met. He slid his pocket knife blade between them and jimmied the lock until it finally turned to the side.

Praying that the window wouldn't make any noise, Sam closed his eyes and started to ease it up. The window groaned a bit, but at that moment he heard Dean start swearing at Gordon. 'Nice timing Dean!' Sam grinned and finished pushing the window open. He looked inside the bathroom. The door was partially closed. There were bloody towels in a pile under the window, and the room smelled of vomit. That was so not a good combination with his head pounding and his stomach roiling.

Sam walked a few feet down the alley to catch his breath and get his stomach under control. An idea suddenly came to him. He took out his cell phone and dialed 1-800-GOOG-411, got the number he was looking for and then made his call. Once he was finished, he dropped his phone back into his pocket, then headed back to the open window.

Sam didn't want to get caught coming in head first, so he jumped and grabbed the edge of the roof and swung his feet up to the window. Once he was in up to his thighs, he let go with one hand and grabbed the windowsill and slid the rest of the way in. Landing on the pile of bloody towels in the bathtub, Sam was glad they were there so his landing was muffled. He was still for a moment and could hear Gordon's hissing intake of breath. "Oh quit being a baby, Gordon, it's not like it's the first time you've been shot. Besides, Millie is having a hard enough time bandaging that up without you jerking around."

Ah, good to know at least one of his bullets had found its mark. Sam hoped the distraction he'd planned wouldn't be late.

"There, you're done. Hope your arm rots off and you die of infection" Millie growled at Gordon. Well, that was interesting. They apparently weren't working together. Where did that leave Millie? Was she on their side? Was she on her own side? She was an unknown variable in the equation, but at least she wasn't working with Gordon.

From his brief look into the room with the family, the room was a typical motel layout. The room was rectangular, with a large window in the front wall with the door to the right of it. There was a table with two chairs under the window. The side of the bed was about four feet away from the table and chairs. The bathroom was on the far side of the bed, on the wall opposite the door and window.

From the voices, he was getting a general idea of where each person was. Dean was on the left side of the room, Millie at the front. Assuming she was where she had been bandaging Gordon, he would be near the door and window as well. Sam didn't want to risk Millie getting hurt, since he now knew she wasn't working with Gordon.

Sam's head was swimming again. He leaned back against the open door with his eyes closed, gulping big draughts of air and swallowing rapidly to try to keep from getting sick. He opened his eyes just in time to see Millie coming around the corner with more bloody towels in her hand. Reacting faster than he thought he could, he grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, one hand across her mouth. She squeaked just as he shushed her. Recovering from her surprise, Millie looked into Sam's eyes and nodded. He released her and she took a step back.

"Gordon is out there," she whispered. Sam nodded and pointed to her and then to the bathtub.

"Bring me a glass of water, and anything you have around here to eat," Gordon yelled from the other room.

"Yeah, bring him that poison you tried to give me" Dean yelled.

"Shut the hell up, Dean. If I need your input, I'll beat it out of you."

"In your dreams, Gordon. Seems to me you tried that before and ended up tied to a chair with the crap beat out of you. Of course, next time I'll have to kill you, since you obviously don't learn quickly." Dean smirked.

"Or I will. Drop the gun, Gordon," Sam stepped around the corner of the bathroom.

"I wondered how long it would take you to get here. Frankly, I was starting to wonder if I'd finished my mission without realizing it." Gordon kept the shotgun trained on Dean. "How about you drop your gun and I won't have to kill Dean. At this range, this sawed off would leave quite a mess."

"Just shoot him Sam, don't talk to him."

Sam knew Dean was right, but it just wasn't in his nature to open fire when there might be a more peaceful solution.

"I said drop the gun, Sam," Gordon clicked the safety off his shotgun.

"Damn it Sam, just shoot him!"

"Gordon, put the shotgun down!"

"SHOOT HIM SAM!" Dean yelled.

"GORDON, DROP THE GUN!"

"Oh, for hell sake" Millie said as she stepped around Sam and threw an ashtray with frightening accuracy at Gordon's head.

As soon as he saw her step around Sam, Dean threw himself off the side of the bed with his head down as far as he could get it with his hands still handcuffed to the bracket. Just in time too, because he heard the roar of the shotgun just as he hit the floor. He screamed as he felt searing pain in his forearms and hands and then heard three rounds pumped from his brother's Beretta.

There was sudden silence. With his ears ringing from the gunfire, Dean peeked over the bed and saw Gordon's body slid halfway out of the chair. There was a trickle of blood from his forehead where the ashtray hit, and his chest was a bloody mess. Sam's aim had always been pretty good. Not as good as his, of course, Dean thought with a smirk, but good enough.

Sam approached Gordon with his gun still trained on him. Using his left hand, he reached out and felt Gordon's neck for a pulse. Feeling nothing, he stuck his gun in his waistband and turned to see Millie undoing Dean's handcuffs. "Come on, we need to get out of here before the cops show up."

"Ya, and a little medical attention might be good." Dean's hands and forearms were bleeding, but it didn't look like the damage was too bad. "We need to get you two to a hospital."

"Yeah, you too," Millie said.

"No, I don't want to have to explain gunshot wounds. We can patch this up with the first aid kit in the Impala. For you two, we'll just tell them you were attacked by muggers. But we better head there quickly, before cops shows up." With his hands cradled to his chest, Dean waited for Sam to open the door of the motel room.

"Hi! That's $21.73." A teenage boy with bad acne stood at the door holding a delivery pizza.

"Oh, uh… We don't need it anymore, sorry." Sam looked uncomfortable.

"You trying to stiff me, mister? Cause that ain't happening." The kid had a stubborn look on his face.

"Pizza? You ordered Pizza? Sammy, you do love me! Now pay the kid so we can get out of here." Dean reached for the box.

"Ewwww, what happened to you?" The kid shoved the pizza at Dean as he stepped away from Dean's bloody hands.

"Oh, this? It was a freak shaving accident."

"Yeah, I hate when that happens. Can I have my money now?" The kid held his hand out to Sam.

"Um, Dean, I don't have any money with me" Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and looked embarrassed.

"Then why did you order pizza?"

"For a distraction" Sam said out of the side of his mouth as he nodded toward the motel room.

"Oh, for the love of Pete!" Millie stepped forward and shoved $25 into the kid's hands. "Can we go now?"

"You want change, lady?" The pizza delivery boy was already headed for his car, not waiting for an answer.

"Where's my car, Sam?" Dean looked around the parking lot. Sirens were blaring in the distance, but getting closer. "C'mon, this way." Sam took off toward the motel office, his arm around Millie's waist, trying to support her. As soon as they rounded the corner, Dean saw the Impala and headed for it. Reaching it, he and Sam stared at each other, wondering who was going to drive. Dean needed to stop the bleeding on his arms and hands, and Sam had no business driving with a concussion.

Once again, Millie stepped up. "Give me the freakin' keys." Rolling her eyes, she got in the driver's seat. Dean did not look happy about her driving his baby. "What? I thought you said you like women being in the driver's seat."

"Well, ya, but…."

"Get in the damn car." Millie turned the key and the engine roared to life.

Sam grabbed the first aid kit, more a surgical bag than a kit, really, and climbed in the front seat. With Dean in the back hanging his arms over the front seat, Sam was able to quickly stop the bleeding. "It doesn't look too deep, but there are a couple pieces of buckshot that need to be removed. Your left arm looks pretty good, just a couple of deep scrapes."

"The buckshot can wait, it's not going anywhere; just wrap 'em up. Let's get you two into the emergency room and worry about the buckshot later." Dean didn't relish the idea of having it dug out anyway, let alone in a moving vehicle.

Ten minutes later, Dean's hands and arms looked professionally bandaged. After all, practice makes perfect, and he and Sam got a lot of practice. He pulled his coat on to cover most of the wrapping just as they pulled up in front of the emergency room. An orderly came out to assess the situation. Dean got out and quickly described their injuries, telling the story of the mugging. The orderly went back in and came out a moment later with a nurse and two wheel chairs.

The doctor wasn't happy about it, but he was finally convinced to release Sam. Millie had to stay at least over night. The ultrasound showed there was internal bleeding from her spleen, but the doctor was hoping it would seal itself off, making surgery unnecessary. Dean and Sam stayed to help Millie get settled into her room.

Clapping his hands, Dean said "Well little brother, we've got a ghost to exorcize. Let's get moving."

Sam groaned. "Can't we do that tomorrow? I have a concussion here!"

Dean laughed, "Sure, sissy la la. I figured you'd feel that way. Millie, we'll look in on you tomorrow. Call if you need anything." Millie weakly waved at them, already half asleep from pain meds. Sam quietly pulled her door shut behind them as they left the room.

"Well, that was more excitement that I wanted," Sam complained. I was looking forward to a nice evening of research.

"Ya, well at least Gordon is out of the picture. No more having to look over your shoulder everywhere we go." Dean smacked Sam on the shoulder. "Let's go eat that pizza." Sam looked a little green and thought he'd better skip it. He felt like crap, but his brother was alive and well. He really couldn't ask much more than that.

Later, in the surgery recovery room, a doctor leaned over a patient, checking his pupils. "You're very lucky to be alive, Mr. Walker. The EMT thought you were dead at first, but then he saw your eyelids flutter. I'd say someone up there was looking out for you."

Gordon just closed his eyes and thought, "thats because I'm on a mission for him."