Dean knew it. He felt it in his gut, and his gut has never been wrong before.
He fuckin' knew it.
Dying together, Winchester-luck-my-ass.
DEAN
„Sammy!"
"Dean!"
„Sam!"
Angry red fluid gushing from Sam's neck, soaking into his jacket, splattering over his face and over vamps holding him, so much blood, oh god, oh god…
„D'n…"
Dean's body goes into frenzy, it fights and cuts and trashes with pure adrenaline, but his mind is frozen with panic, words Sammy, oh god, oh god bouncing in his vacant brain. Muscle memory defeats the vamps with confidence and ruthlessness, his shotgun splashes their heads like watermelons.
His legs are running, carrying him in the direction where vampires dragged his brother deeper into the tunnel, but Sammy can't be dead, he just can't, because if he is then Dean is going to fall into a milion pieces, and there is no coming back from that.
He finds him in a filthy dark chamber, lying on his back. His eyes are filled with fear and shock, all glassy and round, he is choking on his own blood with this horrible, wet gurgling, the death gurgling, which Dean is going to hear in his nightmares for the rest of his days, oh god, oh god. Cass is kneeling above him, Sam's trembling hands on angel's trenchcoat, squizzing hard, as if it was the only thing keeping him alive.
„Sammy… what…" mumbles Dean through his gasping breath, not processing the scene before him.
A delicate, blueish glow is radiating from Cass hands and seeping through Sam's body, and blood stops flowing from a huge hole in his neck, but everything around is sticky from it and red, red, red…
„Sammy… hey, hey." Dean says to his brother, falling on his knees beside his long form and taking his trembling hands into his. „It's okay. Look at me, I'm right here. I've gotcha."
Sam looks at Dean with his fearful stare and whines, he fuckin' whines with pain and Dean's heart clenches painfully.
„Shh, shh. Everyting is going to be okay. I'm here little brother." Dean is babling, desperately trying to calm his brother, to do something, anything. „Cass?" he asks with pinched, damsel-in-distress embarrassing voice he'll never confess to.
„I stopped the bleeding" angel reported, panting with effort. „Can't do more. The wound is still there and he lost a lot of blood. This tunnel is full of vampires and I'm holding them back, at least for now. We should go, Dean. And fast."
„Okay, c'mon, c'mon." Dean takes his brother into bridal carry and lifts him up momentarily, which would never be possible without the adrenaline rush - and they run.
„Go, go, go!" shouts Cass when the rest of their group became visible, and all of them begin a murderous run towards exit, towards life.
Dean holds his brother tightly, doing his best to stabilize Sam's head, avoid furter damage, but oh god, this is hard. Sam is like a ragdoll, sagging inertly in Dean's arms. Dean can't see or feel his legs, tunnel floor is uneven and rocky, and everywhere around them is just chaos.
When he sees a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel, he's not sure whether it means life or death.
MAGGIE
The surface welcomes them with air so fresh that is almost sweet; light is so bright that she's blinded by it, but it's a much-needed relief. Maggie inhales and exhales hungrily, breath short from exertion. When her eyes accommodate to light a little and she is seeing again, she looks around at the rest of the group.
The injured man, Sam, is lying on the forest floor. Maggie might not be a specialist, but she doesn't need to be to realize that he's critical.
He looks barely conscious, his breathing is fast and laboured, unseeing gaze fixed somewhere on the treetops. His face is white, skin clammy and waxy. His clothes are covered in blood, jeans are soaked because he must've urinated at some point. The wound on his neck is profound and gruesome, large chunk of flesh ripped out. It's still bleeding from smaller veins, because the angel was able to fix the artery only in an effort to save Sam's life.
The other man, Dean, is kneeling beside him and speaks some comforting words as he touches his cheek in an attempt to get his attention, to focus. Sam looks away from the trees and onto Dean, but he is barely there, shock slowly taking him over.
„Stay with me, Sam." Dean orders, but his voice is gentle, as if he was talking to a child. „You're safe, allright? I'm going to take care of you. You'll be just fine." Maggie doesn't see any signs of understanding in Sam, but he gazes at his friend („boyfriend?" - Maggie wonders), and that must be good enough for Dean because he jumps into the leader role again and orders: „Cass, keep guard. Gabe, find some wood, we have to build a stretcher. Maggie, give me the first aid kit from my backpack and assist me."
Hearing her name spoken, Maggie snaps out of the numbness. She finds and hands the medkit over to Dean with trembling fingers.
Maggie isn't sure how Dean is supposed to wrap a wound this size and location, nor has he enough dressings in the medkit, but he tries. He cuts Sam's clothes to expose the trauma fully, asks Maggie to open the gauzes one by one and presses, swathes and straps. White dressings turns red in the moment they touches Sam's skin and he moans weakly, lethargic and unfocused.
„There we go." Dean says softly to him and strokes his chin with his thumb with pure affection and gentleness. „All better now".
He is a good actor, Maggie thinks, because nothing is better. The injured man is still white on his face and red everywhere else. He is still going into shock. He is still choking on his own breath and no ambulance will come for him in this world.
Dean's voice again breaks her out of unintended inertia. „Find an emergency blanket in my backpack. We have to wrap him in something, keep him warm." he commands with his normal voice again, strong and authoritative.
Maggie rummages through the backpack contents nervously, desperately trying to find the item fast. She must've had it in her grip at least three times before she comprehended it.
Gabriel comes back with long, straight branches and she helps him with building a provisional stretcher using some ropes and Castiel's trenchcoat. Dean keeps close to his friend, monitors him and whispers reassurances, smiling to him. It's unbelievable how Dean manages to switch between being the gentlest, caring, mother-like figure for Sam and respectable leader for others in a second.
„Shh, little brother. Everything is going to be alright." Maggie hears him soothing a whimpering Sam. They're brothers - Maggie realizes. Of course. How could I not have thought of that?
Sam coughs suddenly and spews blood on Dean but he doesn't care, he wipes Sam's mouth with his own sleeve. Coughing changes into heaving and Dean arranges Sam into recovery position. The content of Sam's stomach becomes visible, acid frothed with blood and scraps, and Maggie gets nauseous herself.
„Okay, allright." Dean recitates, shuffling the sickness away so Sam wouldn't lie in it. „It'll make you feel better." He says it like it was a bad hangover, not a life-threatening condition, but Maggie sees that he is frightened. After that Sam doesn't moan anymore, he is just lying there like a sack of meat, his whole figure trembling slightly, breath wheezing.
Dean and Gabriel transfer Sam gently onto the stretcher and lift him up. With Castiel navigating, they continue their way to Dayton.
DEAN
They settle Sam in one of the cabins, on a makeshift bed. Dean asks Mary to find any clean (cleaner at least) clothes for Sam and when she comes back they carefully change Sam into them.
„D… D'n… so…" Dean hears Sam's faint mumbling and crouches next to him, stroking his hair softly in a calming gesture.
„Shhh, it's okay Sammy. No talking. Save your strength." he coaxes, trying to soothe him.
„So… sorry." Sam doesn't give up, stubborn bitch that he is.
„Shh. No apologies." Dean demands, feeling his stomach clench with fear. „It's my fault, allright? I should've had your back and I didn't. Come on, drink some water." Dean brings a flask to Sam's lips, but it's hard to tell if he manages to get any water down. He chokes on immediately and spits out the liquid.
„Dean" Mary speaks up. „There is a doctor in the outpost, Tanya. I'll go find her."
Dean just nods shakily and turns to Sam again. „You hear that, buddy? Help is coming." The way Sam looks at him makes him nauseous, his gaze is like an unspoken „Make it stop hurting, make it stop!" but Dean can't make it stop, he doesn't have the power, oh god.
Tanya is so young and delicate it's hard to believe that she is a doctor. She came with a stethoscope around her neck, pressure cuff and a headlamp on, that's all. She takes Sam's pulse and blood pressure, listens to his chest, inspects the wound and pupil's reactions. „Okay, pal." - she offers Sam. „Just rest a bit and don't worry. Everything's going to be alright."
She rises to her feet and gestures to Dean.
„Outside."
Mary stays with Sam while Dean follows obediently, feeling a deadly grip tightening around his heart and gut.
They step outside the cabin. „There is nothing we can do" she declares with sadness. „He most likely won't survive the night. I'm so sorry."
Dean was expecting bad news, but not that. Never that.
„No." He stammers out. „There has to be something. Anything. I'll do anything."
„Dean." Tanya's voice is soft, caring. „It's Dean, right? I know this is hard. I know it's unjust and cruel because he is your brother and he is in the prime of life, but it is what it is. He's lost an extensive amount of blood. The wound is too big and too deep to stitch, he needs skin graft. He's in shock, and progressing into sepsis - the edges of the wound are already warmer than the rest of his skin. He needs ICU, surgery and really strong antibiotics." She sighs. „I have whiskey and Tylenol."
Dean shakes his head. He can't let go. He can't let Sammy go.
„Direct transfusion." Dean offers. „I've 0 negative, the universal donor. I can give him my blood. I've a field kit in my backpack."
„It won't change much, Dean" doctor points sadly. „It might or might not delay the inevitable, but…"
„That's all I need." Dean interrupts her. „Time. I'll figure something out."
„Dean…" Tanya tires to reason with him again, but he doesn't let her finish.
„Please." He pleads. „I can't loose him. He's my baby brother . He is all I have."
Tanya bites her lip. Transfusion can weaken the donor and not necessarily help the recipient… and in this case it would be more judicious to say no. But… There is one thing you can never deny your patients - she remembers one of her university professors words. Hope. Hope makes all the difference.
„Okay" she agrees. „I'll help you."
MARY
Mary sits by Sam's side while Dean speaks with Tanya. Sam is sweating and he's breathing rapidly, shakes come and go like a tidal wave through his body.
It's bad, Mary knows it. Sam is gonna die in their hands, and rather sooner than later.
„M'm…" Sam manages through chapped lips.
„I'm here, baby" she assures him. „Here, have some water." She brings a canteen to his mouth, but Sam doesn't make a move to drink.
„Is Dean… here?"
„He'll be soon enough, don't worry. Come on, drink." She encourages his son, but Sam doesn't accept the water.
„I need to…" Sam continues breathlessly. „I need to tell him…"
„Shh, it's okay, baby." Mary tries to calm him down, she takes his hand and starts rubbing circles with her thumb. „He already knows."
„He… nnn…" an unstoppable cough brings a handful of blood to Sam's lips, and he pukes it out. Mary cleans his face quickly with a washcloth.
„S'…ry" Sam tries to articulate, but he can barely speak.
„It's okay, Sam. Try to sleep a little, alright? You need to rest." Mary tells him, tucking the already tucked blanket around her son. He wants to add something, but Mary doesn't allow him. „I'll wake you up when Dean comes back, I promise." She lies, but Sam is to out to see through it. He relaxes, or rather deflates like a leaky balloon. Mary isn't sure if he will carry on to wake up again.
Dean and Tanya came back inside the cabin. Sam's eyes are closed, but he is breathing. His t-shirt is smeared with fresh blood. „Is he okay?" Dean asks her fearfully, already bending over Sam's still form.
„Asleep." Mary informs. „Or passed out, hard to really tell. He coughed some blood." Dean nods, full of worry. „Dean" Mary speaks again. „He tried to tell you something before…"
„Oh, I'm sure he did." Dean cuts in. „Sammy loves deathbed confessions. But I'm not losing him, not today, not ever." The determination in Deans voice is absolute. „Tanya will do a direct blood transfusion. It'll buy us time, and meanwhile I'll find a way to take Sammy and everyone else to our world, to safety."
Mary nods, agreeing. If anyone can perform a miracle like that, it's Dean. She is so damn proud of her oldest.
„Let's do this."