Hi everyone!
I went ahead and changed the rating to M for this chapter - just to be safe. It's pretty canon typical but also relatively gory. Everyone is okay though. Promise.
Reviews bring me joy! Hope you're all enjoying this! It's my longest fic to date and I'm really proud.
It was bitterly, bitterly cold. Sophie's pocket thermometer read -14. Without the wind chill. Her right hand was going numb where it held her bat. They'd told the guide she practiced an esoteric form of kung fu that included a lot of hitting trees with a stick by moonlight. He'd bought it, likely because the lie came accompanied by an absurdly generous $150 tip. Her left hand, protected first first with a glove liner then a mitten, then Dean's hand, then Dean's coat pocket, was only marginally cold.
"You know any of the guests that died?" Sam asked their guide, trying to sound casual.
"Two of them," the grizzled old man replied, "I took them out a few days before. They were fishing at dawn when it happened. Just the two of them. No bear rifle. No bear spray. And they were almost ten clicks down the trail. In close here we'll be fine."
The old man cocked his shotgun.
"And I've got you covered if something does show up. We're plenty safe," he assured them.
They were not, in fact, plenty safe.
Dean started to hear rustling in the bushes and growling sounds as they approached the lakeshore - about a mile and a half from the resort's back patio. Then he saw a figure burst through the tree-line, human shaped, but with the edges distorted, and horribly, inhumanly fast.
The thing was on their guide in a split second, ripping its claws through the old man's flesh then tearing out his heart. He barely even had time to scream. Dean and Sam whipped out their guns and Dean got off two shots while it was still on the guide's body. But it was so dang fast, and both missed their mark.
Then it charged at Sophie. She hit it with her bat. Hard. But it didn't break apart like the leshy. Instead it raked its massive claws across her chest and stomach. Sophie screamed. Dean watched blood well up even through her heavy coat. It knocked her prone and was bending down to rip open her chest when three gunshots went off in close succession - two from Sam and one from Dean. Dean heard Sophie scream again and then watched the beast un-transform and collapse in a pile on top of her. It was Ronny - with two bullet holes straight through his chest.
Dean sprinted over and shoved the dead body off of her. Sophie was shaking and bloody, but still conscious. There were deep, jagged cuts tracing from her right shoulder all the way down to the left side of her waist. And there, welling up from her right shoulder, was a stream of blood that could only mean a puncture wound.
"Dean," she whimpered, "Dean please help. Please."
"You're gonna be okay," he whispered, sitting her up, "Promise."
They were a half hour walk from the resort. Dean wracked his brain for what to do. Should he try to stop the bleeding here? Normally, yes. But in this weather taking off those layers could send her into shock in mere moments. So, against every instinct screaming in his head to cut her clothes off and start dealing with the damage, Dean gathered Sophie up in his arms and started trudging back towards the warm lights of the hotel behind them. Sam rushed after him.
"You're not gonna…" Sam began.
"No," Dean cut him off, "I take that coat off her and she'll be hypothermic in half a minute. We'll get her inside. Then we'll deal with it."
Sophie was delirious from the pain. Dean was surprised she was still conscious. She had her good arm looped snugly around his neck. And she was responsive when he spoke directly to her. He was terrified she'd bleed out on him as they walked. So he tried to keep her talking.
"You did a great job back there Sophie," Dean said encouragingly, "Now we're just gonna get back to the resort and I'll have you patched up in no time. Right? Right? Keep those eyes open for me. Talk to me Sophie."
"It ripped his heart out," her voice was distant and shaky.
"And it won't be doing that ever again," Dean reassured her.
"And then you guys shot it and it turned back into just…a guy…" Sophie trailed off.
"Stay with me now," Dean prompted.
"Everybody's safe now?" Sophie asked, her eyelids drooping.
"Everybody's safe," Dean said gently, and then watched her eyes roll back and felt her body go totally limp, "No, no, no, no, no. Don't do this to me Sophie."
But she didn't rouse.
He was close to the hotel now, close enough that the path was relatively clear of snow. So he ran, as fast as he safely could in this ridiculous weather, until he reached the closest door. With Dean's hands occupied, Sam pounded on the back service door until Liza's startled face appeared. She looked at Sam, then at Dean, then her eyes fell on Sophie's bloody, unconscious body and she screamed.
Dean shouldered past Liza and surveyed his options. They were in the kitchen. He made eye contact with Sam then nodded at the center island. His brother instantly started clearing away any objects cluttering the space. As soon as the last items were stowed elsewhere, Dean lay Sophie down, grabbed a pair of kitchen shears, and started cutting off her coat.
"What happened?" Liza shrieked, "Where's your guide?"
"We'll explain later," Dean said gruffly, ripping the buttons off Sophie's shirt as he tried to get it off her as fast as possible, "Short version is - there was another mauling. Real bad. Guide's dead. So's Ronny. And right now I need you to focus on helping us keep that body count down to two."
"Wolves…Or…." Liza looked dazed.
Sam shook her shoulder.
"Liza. There's not time to explain right now. Help us," he instructed.
"What do you need?" Liza asked, snapping back into focus.
"Towels, clean water, a bottle of the highest proof alcohol you've got, and a space heater," Dean rattled off, "Sam go grab my med kit."
With Liza and Sam off getting supplies, Dean pulled off the last of Sophie's clothes. He propped her feet up on the bundle of outerwear, hoping if he could just get a little more blood flow to her head she'd come around.
He started surveying the damage. The cuts from the werewolf's claws ran diagonally from her clavicle to past her belly button. They were deep - he could see the bone of her ribs in places - but they hadn't gotten past her abdominal wall. So if he could keep bleeding and infection under control, she'd be fine. She'd have some nasty scars and it'd be. But it wouldn't kill her. Hopefully. He mentally noted what would be necessary to clean and stitch those wounds then moved on to the puncture in her right shoulder. Dean sighed. It was unmistakable. That was a 9mm bullet wound. Which meant, somehow, Sam had shot her. He looked on her back and her upper arm - but he didn't see an exit wound. Priority number one - get that bullet out of her before it did any more damage.
He pulled off his coat and mittens - stuffing his coat under her feet as well - as Sam returned with their med kit and Liza with the other supplies. He thanked them both and sent them away. Liza left immediately, thank goodness, but Sam lingered.
"Dean aren't you in a little over your head here?" Sam asked, "She's lost a lot of blood. Those are serious injuries. She could…"
"The nearest open clinic is two and a half hours away," Dean snapped, "This is a shitty option, but if we wait two hours she'll be dead Sam. End of discussion."
"Okay. Okay. You sure you don't want my help?" Sam asked.
Dean shook his head.
"I need you to manage Liza for me," he said, "I've patched you up alone and I can do the same for her."
Dean grabbed a pair of tweezers and sterilized them on the stove. He was grimly thankful that Sophie wasn't going to be conscious for this part. Even unconscious, her body could react to pain. And as he dug out the bullet, it did. He pressed his left forearm down along her shoulder and her chest to keep her still, feeling horribly guilty about how awful that must feel against the open cuts, and finally got the bullet free. He wasn't sure if it was the pain that woke her or restored blood flow thanks to propping up her feet, but she roused.
"Dean," she whimpered, "Why does it hurt so bad? Can you fix it?"
"Don't worry baby," Dean assured her, grabbing a couple of towels and the bottle of vodka that Liza had provided, "You're gonna be okay."
"It hurts Dean," Sophie's voice was unsteady, "Please help. Please Dean."
He ducked his head and cupped her cheek with his palm.
"Listen I'm not gonna lie to you," Dean said, "What I'm about to do now is gonna make it hurt worse. But it's gonna help. You'll be okay."
He folded a wash cloth into quarters and stuck it in her mouth.
"Bite down on that for me," he said, then he started pouring the vodka along the wounds on her shoulder and her chest. Sophie screamed through the towel in her mouth, her back arching off the hard stainless steel of the countertop.
"I am so sorry," he repeated again and again as he tried to get everything clean. When he was finished, Dean pulled the washcloth out of her mouth.
"Am I dying?" Sophie asked, breathing ragged, sweat dewing her skin.
"I promise," Dean said, "You are not dying."
"That felt like dying," Sophie said.
"Not dying," Dean repeated, "Just getting things clean. Always the worst part."
"Well that's good," Sophie relaxed just a little. Her eyelids started to droop.
"Hey," Dean chided, "None of that now. I know you're tired and I know you're scared and I know this hurts like hell. But I need you to stay awake for me. Okay?"
"Okay," Sophie nodded feebly, fixing her gaze on the ceiling.
"I'm gonna bandage up the gunshot first and then we'll start stitching the other cuts," Dean said.
"I got shot?" Sophie exclaimed. It was the first time he'd heard any energy in her voice since the werewolf attacked. He counted that as a blessing.
"My brother has shitty aim," Dean replied, "But I'll patch you up. Don't worry."
"I…he…" Sophie struggled for words, "Okay. I guess."
"You did great out there," Dean assured her, "Really fantastic. And this'll all heal up in a couple weeks. You'll be good as new in no time. You'll get to have fun making up a story about where the scars came from."
"I'll have to think about that…" Sophie said, clearly trying hard to keep herself awake, "Ouch!"
She yelped and pulled away as he tried to put a pressure bandage around the bullet wound in her shoulder.
"Easy now," Dean said, "Just take deep, steady breaths. You're gonna be fine. You can punch Sam later."
"You promise?"
"I promise. Hard as you want. Repeatedly."
It took him over an hour to get the stitches in and Sophie was barely conscious by the end of it. She'd handled the whole ordeal surprisingly well. She kept talking, per his instructions. She let him hold her down and keep her still with only minimal complaint. But at this point Dean could tell she was just spent.
"Hey," he murmured, finally putting down his needle and bending in close to her, "You're almost done. Okay?"
"Dean," Sophie muttered. Her eyes were having trouble focusing.
"Yeah, I'm right here," he said gently, "You're gonna be fine. This last part's gonna hurt like a bitch. So towel goes back in your mouth and we'll be done in less than a minute. Got it? Just bandages after this. It won't even hurt."
"Okay," Sophie nodded and let him wedge the washcloth between her teeth again.
He wasn't expecting her to still have the energy left to scream. And it just about ripped his heart in half when she did.