A/N This is the last chapter of this fic so thank you to everyone who read and reviewed. I hope sendintheclowns enjoyed it and that I didn't wreck her prompt too much :s. I rushed this a lot so I apologise!
For Dean time seemed to stand still as he watched his brother gasp for her, slumped against the wall and looking down at his shirt as crimson seeped steadily across it. He wanted to form words, call out but his mouth seemed unwilling to co-operate with his brain as he stood there, frozen in terror.
As Sam let out a tiny moan of pain something inside Dean seemed to snap awake and he bolted towards his brother, dropping to his knees at his side.
"Fuck…Sammy." He said breathlessly as Sam looked up at his brother with glazed eyes, looking at him desperately.
Everything seemed to slide into place at once. Dean slamming the man's hand down, the gun going off. He'd though it hadn't hit anyone…it hit Sam.
"Sam where were you hit?" He asked urgently as he pulled back Sam's shirt feeling the warm wetness of blood on his fingertips. His brother's blood. Sam gasped again, breathing hard as sweat trickled down the side of his face. The pain was mind-numbing, he could barely think straight.
"Sh…shoulder." He panted, gritting his teeth against the burning pain which had only intensified since the bullet had impacted into his flesh. This was turning out to be a really shitty day.
Dean ripped through his brother's shirt at the shoulder with trembling hands and grimaced, swallowing hard as he saw the bullet hole. Blood was steadily leaking from the wound. He quickly pulled his brother forward and Sam let out a small yelp as Dean checked his brother's back for an exit wound. There wasn't one.
"Sam we need to get you to a hospital." He said as he pressed down on his brother's wound. Sam hissed in pain and gritted his teeth, trembling as he looked up at his brother.
"No Dean." He said as forcefully as his weakened state would allow.
"We can't…I…I can't let you get caught. Just…stitch me up yourself…You can fix this." He said, finding it difficult to string his sentences together. Sure his shoulder was killing him but his head wasn't forgotten.
It was said as a statement but Dean could see the question in his brother's hazel eyes, the hope and the trust that Dean would make it all okay. He paused and nodded mutely. Sam struggled to keep his eyes open as Dean looked around, noticing everyone's eyes on them and feeling uncomfortable. He didn't know exactly how they were going to get out of this.
Dean saw his jacket lying discarded to the right from when he had taken it off, the heat becoming too unbearable. He quickly picked it up and handed it to his brother.
"Put on my jacket. If they don't think you're injured we might be able to slip away unnoticed." He said quietly as he draped the jacket around Sam, covering his bleeding shoulder. Dean paused and let out a shaky sigh as he looked at his pale, bleeding brother.
"Sam, you need to promise me that if I get caught you'll run, you'll try to get away." Dean said seriously as Sam blinked blearily and frowned.
"Dean…" He began weakly but Dean cut him off sensing the hesitation in his brother's tone.
"No Sam, you have to promise me." He said and Sam swallowed hard, pain pulsating through his head and shoulder. He felt like he was about to lose the contents of his stomach again.
"Only…only if it goes both ways." Sam said weakly and Dean sighed. He knew there was no way he'd just let Sam get dragged away and save himself.
"Fine." He lied.
Almost on cue the doors opened and boots crunched over broken glass as police filed into the room, guns raised and ready as they surveyed the interior of the bank.
"All clear, perpetrators down. Anybody hurt?" One of the SWAT team members called out. Nobody said a word and Dean held his breath. A woman shakily raised a trembling hand.
"N..no but these people are dead." She said pointing at the several sprawled out bodies before looking briefly across at Dean.
Sam could barely lift his heavy lids, they felt like ten ton weights as he struggled to keep them open and stay awake. He was so tired, he just wanted to sleep.
Dean, seeing Sam slipping towards unconsciousness tapped his face and shook him gently so as not to disturb his shoulder.
"Sam!" He said sharply and Sam slowly opened his eyes muttering sorry quietly and Dean swallowed hard. His brother was suffering and he couldn't do anything about it.
He sat with Sam, putting pressure on his shoulder through the jacket and waiting as Medics came in and people began to get up and start moving around. They had to get out unnoticed.
He got to his feet and took Sam's good arm and managed to heave him to his feet where he swayed unsteadily, gaze unfocused as Dean supported him.
"One step at a time." He said quietly as they walked through the milling crowds of people, medics and police and crying hostages.
They managed to walk slowly through undetected as they reached the doors where press were milling around, news crews and ambulances parked outside, blue and red lights blaring. Dean maintained his grip on Sam who was leaning heavily against his brother, the bright daylight causing his head to throb.
Dean felt relief wash over him in waves as he spotted the Impala parked a few metres away, sunlight bouncing off the bonnet. Suddenly Sam stumbled and the pair of them almost went down as Dean grimaced, trying to support his brother's weight as he heaved him upright, Sam groaning at the strain on his shoulder.
As Sam stumbled slightly again, unable to coordinate his movements through the haze of pain they came face to face with a paramedic who eyed Sam with concern.
"Hey are you alright?" She asked surveying Sam's condition, the blood marring his pale face.
"He's fine." Dean said quickly. They were this close to the Impala, they couldn't get stopped now.
"He's bleeding, he should be looked at." The woman said as she looked at Sam's bloody head. Dean desperately tried to edge forward. They couldn't run because it would draw attention and Sam could barely walk straight anyway.
"I'm taking him to a hospital now, he doesn't like ambulances." He said knowing it sounded ridiculous. The woman eyed him skeptically before her frown deepened.
"Hey…wait a minute. I thought nobody was being let out yet?" She said quickly looking around and Dean spotted the nearby police and felt his gut wrench with panic. He had to think fast.
He quickly shoved his hand into his pocket, slipping his hand into his wallet.
"We uh…We're cops lady. He hit his head when we went in there, some chick thought he was another perp because we weren't in uniform." He lied quickly, flashing a fake badge and ID. The medic paused before nodding.
"Well make sure he's looked at, you shouldn't mess around with head injuries." She said.
Yeah or bullet wounds, Dean thought darkly as he forced a smile and continued to half-drag Sam towards the car.
"You told her I…got beat up by a…chick?" Sam said between breathless gasps, sweat pouring down his face but offering a weak smile nonetheless. Dean smiled ruefully as he helped Sam into the passenger seat.
"Well it's believable, she took one look at your pansy ass and accepted it as the truth." Dean said and Sam laughed weakly then winced noticeably causing the smile to slide from Dean's face and the sense of urgency was back. His brother was still bleeding and they were still wanted.
He quickly got into the car and slammed the door shut, firing up the engine. He reversed smoothly out of the space and drove at a normal speed down the road until he could no longer see the bank, the flashing lights and news crews then he pressed his foot down on the accelerator and sped down the road, tires squealing and the engine growling.
He gripped the steering wheel hard, knuckles white as the adrenaline seemed to leave him the events of the day finally seemed to hit home. Sam had been shot and it was his fault.
He swallowed with difficulty, a painful lump in his throat as he gripped the wheel even tighter, hands feeling numb.
Glancing across at Sam he saw his eyes were closed and worry and guilt stabbed at him again painfully.
"Sam stay awake!" He yelled and his brother opened his eyes again with difficulty. Dean reached forward and turned the stereo on, cranking up the volume in an effort to keep Sam's eyes open.
The familiar opening bars of Blue Oyster Cult's Don't Fear the Reaper began to play and Sam snorted softly before groaning slightly in pain.
"What?" Dean asked, eyes flitting between the road and his brother.
"Oddly..a…appropriate." He said softly, voice barely above a whisper. Dean felt sick. He put on another burst of speed.
"Keep pressure on it." He ordered.
Sam clumsily pressed the balled up shirt against his sodden shoulder and hissed with pain. He didn't think he could stay awake much longer, he didn't think he could take this pain much longer. Plus, he was dangerously close to losing the contents of his stomach and his surroundings kept spinning.
"Fuck." Cried Sam as the car jolted over a pothole, jarring his shoulder. His eyes watered and he gritted his teeth.
"Shit, sorry." Dean quickly apologised as Sam tried to get a hold of himself, shoulder burning with agony and his fingers slick with blood.
After what felt like a life-age they skidded to a halt outside the motel. Sam was barely lucid as Dean hurriedly lifted him from the car, pulling his good arm across his shoulders and supporting him the short distance to the room, first aid kid in his free hand.
Propping Sam against the wall, one hand steadying him he unlocked the door and held it open with his foot as he dragged Sam through and over to the bed. He set him down and Sam lay still groaning as Dean quickly shut the door.
Heart hammering in his ears Dean pulled towels from the bathroom not caring if he'd have to pay for them when they were returned covered in blood and hurried back over to Sam.
Seeing the rip in Sam's shirt he pulled from each side, tearing it further open until Sam's chest was exposed and the shirt lay in tatters. The smell of blood hit him in an intense wave and Dean swallowed and pressed the towel down hard to staunch the flow of blood.
Sam hissed and tried to draw away from his brother but he didn't have the strength. Pressing harder Sam let out a strangled sound and Dean looked away, hating to see the pain written across his brother's face.
"I've got to get the bullet out Sam." Dean said but Sam didn't respond, he was too busy biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from crying out. His head was pounding even more furiously than before and he couldn't stop trembling.
The gauze grew steadily scarlet, soaking up Sam's blood as Dean held it there trying to shut out the small whimpers emanating from his brother.
"I'm going to have to flush it out, we can't risk an infection and I need to see what I'm doing." He said and Sam made a small sound of acknowledgment, bracing himself. He knew how much disinfecting wounds hurt.
"Hang on a second, I think you'll need this." He said, getting up from the bed and rummaging through his bag before pulling out a bottle of jack. He unscrewed the top and handed it to Sam.
Sam took a long sip and grimaced at the fiery taste as it slid down his throat like fire. He took several more gulps before Dean set it aside, fighting the urge to drink some himself.
"Okay." Dean said softly. He peeled back the sodden gauze and steadied his shaking hands as Sam lay there, chest heaving and every muscle tensed. Dean wished he would just pass out so he didn't have to suffer through this.
He tilted the bottle and let the clear liquid pour into the wound and Sam let out a strangled yell which dissolved into soft sobs as he fisted his hands in the ratty motel quilt and clenched his teeth, panting heavily and hissing with pain. His shoulder was on fire.
"Stop…please." He begged brokenly. Dean felt like he was going to break as his brother pleaded with him, face contorted with pain as every muscle stood out, rigid.
"Sorry Sammy." He said his voice wavering slightly as he dabbed at the wound with the gauze again. Dean rummaged through the kit and pulled out the tweezers, he dipped them in the antiseptic to sterilize them and looked back down at his brother who was panting heavily.
"I can see the bullet but it's deep Sam, it's gonna hurt." He said seriously as Sam gasped breathlessly, face flushed with the extertion.
"Just…do it." He managed to gasp out looking at his brother who nodded jerkily hating that he was causing his brother so much pain. Steadying himself he readied the tweezers, hovering over the wound and holding his breath against the overwhelming smell of blood and antiseptic. Blood was under his nails, in the cracks of his skin, on his clothes.
He could feel the tension radiating from Sam as he drew closer. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to hurt his brother any more.
He guided the tweezers down and spotted the bullet, glinting in the dim motel room lighting. He clamped the tweezers down on either side of the bullet and pulled, Sam hissing through clenched teeth and breathing heavily as he yanked it out.
Sam let out a small whimper and he couldn't help the tear that escaped from his eye as Dean set the bullet down on the nightstand, breathing heavily as his brother lay there face paper-white.
Sam swallowed hard and felt his stomach churning dangerously.
Dean recognized the green tinge that crept onto Sam's face and quickly his arm shot out, grabbing the trash-can and shoving it under Sam's chin just as he heaved and vomit came pouring out, hitting the base with a splatter.
Scrunching up his nose Dean looked away as his brother coughed, heaved again and spat, trembling as he hovered over the trash-can.
"That was…disgusting." Dean remarked, satisfied his brother was done he moved the trash can aside.
"I guess concussions and bullet wounds don't mix huh?" Dean mumbled as he checked on the wound again, satisfied to see the bleeding had at least slowed.
Sam swallowed with a grimace, the sour taste of vomit still present in his mouth as he breathed in and out raggedly, sweat covering him as he tried to block out the pounding in his head and the fire in his shoulder.
"The bleeding is slowing down, once it's stopped I'll stitch it up. Your head will need stitching too."
Sam nodded jerkily and regretted it as his head throbbed angrily.
"Listen I uh…I'm sorry about…" He mumbled guilt eating away at him as he eyed the bloody bedsheets.
"Shutup…wasn't your fault." Sam slurred. Dean looked away, not able to look at his brother's blood covered face.
They fell into silence and Dean busied himself by cleaning the blood away from Sam's head wound which luckily had stopped bleeding and was starting to clot.
"I was thinking…" Sam said suddenly and Dean looked up.
"Don't hurt yourself Sammy."
"Shutup…I was thinking that…next time…we should do our banking…online." Sam panted and Dean snorted.
"I think you're right…for once." Dean added with a grin and Sam smiled weakly.
A/N Thanks for reading this, tell me what you thought and thanks for all the great reviews:D