Chapter 2
The Impala tore down the road. In the back seat, Dean tried keeping Stella as still as possible. Fortunately the Colorado highway was straight and relatively smooth. With his free hand, he pulled out his cell and hit Bobby's speed dial number. It rang twice before he heard Bobby's gruff voice on the other end. Dean tried not to shout but it was hard to hear over the Impala's roaring engine.
"Bobby? Bobby! Where are you? Oklahoma? We're rushing Stella to the hospital… It doesn't look good, Bobby." Dean's voice caught. He listened for a second. "Sam, where are we going?"
"Keefe Memorial's the closest hospital. Cheyenne Wells, Colorado."
"We'll be at the hospital in Cheyenne Wells, Colorado. Keefe. Come quick, Bobby." Dean clicked off his phone. Stella's father, Travis, and Bobby had been close friends. In fact, it was Travis who had helped Bobby become a Hunter after his wife died. Bobby considered Stella family, and Dean knew Bobby would want to be with her, no matter what the outcome. He shut his eyes; he didn't want to think about the worst case scenario.
"Give me your phone," yelled Sam. Dean's eyes snapped open.
"My phone?" What did Sam want with his phone?
"Mine's in my pack. Just give me the damn phone, Dean." Sam took one hand off the wheel and groped behind him for the phone. Dean slapped it into his palm.
Sam dialed and put the phone to his ear. "I need you to connect me to the Keefe Hospital Trauma Center. Yes, it's a friggin' emergency!" The pause went on forever. "Hello? Is this the Keefe Trauma Center? I'm on my way in. My brother's girlfriend has been stabbed… No, I can't wait for an ambulance. How far are you from…" A couple buildings whizzed by. "… The Red Corners Diner?" There was silence for another second and then Dean heard Sam say, "We'll be there in less than five minutes."
They were there in three. Sam started leaning on the horn as soon as the emergency room doors were visible. He shouted a warning for Dean to brace before he stepped on the brakes – hard. He'd barely thrown the Impala into park when he leaped out of the car and raced around to the rear passenger door, waving to the ER nurses who were rushing a gurney out to the car.
"What happened?" shouted middle-aged man who Sam assumed was one of the doctors.
"She was stabbed, twice. Once in the side with a knife–and she's bleeding pretty badly. The other is in the shoulder and chest. That's a screwdriver and it is still in her," yelled Sam. With Dean's help, they started pulling Stella out of the car. As she slid out of Dean's arms, Stella's eyes opened for a moment but they were glassy and unfocused. The ER trauma team rushed Stella inside. Dean followed with Sam right on his heels. Stella's gurney went through some double doors. Dean didn't even notice the nurse in his way until he literally ran into her; Sam pulled him back before he did something stupid.
"You need to wait here, sir! Sir!"
"What?" Dean didn't look away from the double doors where Stella had disappeared.
"We'll give you an update as soon as we can, Mister…?" The nurse looked up at Dean. She was only about five-foot-three, had iron grey hair, and keen green eyes.
"Tyler," said Sam, using one of their aliases, a tribute to Aerosmith front man Steven Tyler. "I'm Sam Tyler; this is my brother, Dean."
"Mr. Tyler, what's your friend's name?"
Dean finally blinked and focused on the nurse. "Stella. Stella Bodine. She's 28 years old."
"Okay, Mr. Tyler. I'd like you to please take a deep breath. We're going to take very good care Miss Bodine. The doctors are going to examine her and I'll give you an update as soon as I can. I need for you and your brother to please go to the waiting area. Could you do that for me?" Her voice was soothing and quiet, and Dean settled ever-so-slightly. The nurse glanced at Sam.
"C'mon, Dean. Let's sit. I can give Bobby a call. See how far away he is." He put a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder, knowing Dean would react badly to anything he perceived as a push.
"Yea. Yea, okay." Dean nodded and started to walk aimlessly towards the open seats. Every time the doors opened, Dean flinched, torn between hope and dread. Around them, a number of other people waited to see doctors: a young man who'd fallen from a dirt bike; a young mother with a fussy toddler; an older man with a bruise on the side of his face; and a woman holding a Zip-loc bag of ice on her knee. Dean sat and then got up and paced. Sat again. Paced again. Sam thought it best not to remind Dean that pacing wasn't going to help. If it made him feel better, let him walk. Twenty minutes later, the doctor who'd met them outside came into the waiting room. He had blood on his scrubs. He saw Sam and Dean both stand up and headed over.
"Mr. Tyler? I'm Doctor Polanco…"
"Is Stella okay?" Dean's voice was steady but Sam could hear the whisper of desperation he was trying to hide.
"We've stabilized her, but she needs surgery. We're going to need to repair some of the damage from the screwdriver. She has a punctured lung and a broken clavicle. Her liver was lacerated by the other blade. While serious, it will heal on its own without surgery. She also struck her head; I'm assuming it happened when she fell during the attack. She definitely has a concussion. She's lost a lot of blood and her vital signs are weak but steady."
"So, give us the bottom line, Doc," said Sam. He took a deep breath.
"I can't make any guarantees; her injuries are very serious," said Polanco. "I'm hopeful that she will recover but it will be touch and go for a bit. Once she is out of surgery, we'll have to keep a very careful eye on her. It could go either way at this point. I'm sorry I can't be more positive."
Sam glanced at Dean, but his brother didn't say anything. He just stood silently, staring at some point far off in the distance. "Okay, thank you, Doctor," said Sam when it became clear that Dean was somewhere else. Doctor Polanco nodded and started to turn away when Dean suddenly shook himself out of his reverie. He grabbed the doctor's elbow.
"Doc. Promise me you'll take good care of her." Polanco nodded at Dean and reached out to squeeze the elder Winchester's shoulder.
"I'll do my very best, son. You have my word."
Okay, so that's chapter 2. Thanks to those of you who have read the first chapter – and especially those who have come back for more and/or left a review. I do appreciate the feedback, so I'd love to hear from you.