Okaiiiii guys, I know I haven't been here for awhile but this is a one-shot that I owe to quite a lot of you fabulous peeps.
Title: Luck Run's Out
Warning: Season 3 spoiler for Bad Day At Black Rock, language! and bloody scenes
Disclaimer: still waiting for the package I ordered that Supernatural is mine...I don't have it, I don't own em!
Summary: Tag and episode extension scenes for BDABR Season 3, After Sam gets shot, we do need more angst here gals...Bela didn't barely graise Sam, she shot him dead on, and there's lasting damage not just from her hand!
Okay, hope you enjoy, if you review even better, but I don't expect reviews just ask that you enjoyed and it made you smile...or cry or cringe, hey a reaction is good
"SON OF A BITCH!" Dean cursed shaking wildly with fury, Bela The evil bitch had stolen his tickets, his million dollar tickets!
The tell tale sign of speak of the devil's horn beeped as she sped off with Dean's fortune.
"I won that fair and square." Dean hissed as he reached the car, the duffle hit the back seat with Sam in tow, wobbling occasionally when he hit a bump or uneven ground.
Sam glanced down at his left shoulder, his large hand stemming the blood flow or at least trying to, crimson still ran like rivers through his fingers and every step he felt more dizzy and disorientated.
Taking residence at his passenger door he tried to focus on which door handle to pull to get inside the car, when all of a sudden he could see five moving handles.
Shaking his head at the wavering vision Sam tugged on the door and slumped inside the car silently, Dean could be heard still cursing obscenities his great uncle would be proud of in the trunk, sorting through the wepaons deciding which to use to decapitate Bela with or maybe he should try flames.
"Stupid, stupid, STUPID...never should of let her near us...stole me money, shot Sam!..she..." Dean's face paled. She shot Sam! She fucking shot Sammy!
"SAMMY!" Dean yelled as he ran to the front of the car and nearly tore his own door off with a loud squeak. Sam lay sprawled in the front passenger seat, his right hand still putting pressure on his shoulder and a steady flow of red ran over his hand along with a darkening patch over his chest and down his side. With half open slits Sam gave a slight grin to Dean's expression.
"I'm n't gonna' bleed on your car..." Sam smiled, but it never reached his eyes. His breathing hitched slightly.
"Jesus Sam, why didn't you tell me she hit you that bad!" Dean instantly reached forward and roughly pulled Sam's arm away. "Holy crap Sam, I gotta' get you back to the motel..." Dean thought about the goons that had his Sam tied to a chair just a few hours prior and decided best on an entirely different motel. "C'mon sasquatch." Shrugging out of his thinner jacket Dean passed it under Sam's hand, he pressed down hard for good measure which made Sam cry out and pull away.
"Sorry." Dean mumbled, he fumbled for his keys and started the engine, soon the chevy was eating up the blacktop in break neck speeds to find another decent hotel, Sam needed attention. If not a hospital.
Dean's glances at his apparently sleeping brother got more frequent the longer the journey got, finally noticing a huge neon sign reading 'Winterstate Inn 3.5 Miles' Dean pressed harder on the gas.
Sam opened his eyes briefly and glanced at Dean. "Stop staring Dean, I'm fine." Even though being shot and beaten up made you obviously fine.
Speeding around a very tight corner Sam's body flung sideways with momentum until he bashed into the window and lost the hold on his shoulder. "Agh...Dean!" Sam hissed, his vision wavered and he felt completley sick. Suddenly this certain car ride became too much for him. Leaning forward until his head touched his knee's Sam breathed deeply and tried to calm his body down, shivering came next and then the body wracking pain that went in waves passing up and down.
"Sam..?" Dean asked concerned.
Deep breathing and hardly contained gasps were his only answer until the car skidded to a stop and Sam was flung again, this time into Dean with a loud scream when his shoulder took the brunt of the move.
"I hate your driving..." Sam grunted. Dean moved so that he was holding onto Sam and pulled his weight into the drivers seat while he booked a room.
"Be right back Sammy." Dean promised as he leapt off to check in.
Only after leaving the car did Dean notice the bright red looming blood on his hands and all over his shirt with help from the cheap lights in the foyer of the motel.
An elderly man who wore massive five inch specs, Dean hoped he couldn't see, came forward with a smile and offered a room while Dean paid.
Jogging back to the chevy and getting Sam back to their room was easier said than done. Dragging a 6' 4 beanpole to the farthest room was more grueling than Dean would ever admit, he was supposed to be able to look after Sam and he'd never admit to weakness.
Clearing the parking lot and inside their room without being seen was easy, getting Sam on the nearest bed was easy, retrieving the first aid kit and locking the door while securing the room was a rush, but it was easy. But the part where Dean had to dig a bullet out of his baby brother and cause more pain cleaning it was not easy nor was it ever nice, not for a Winchester.
So Dean did what a winchester did best, he sucked it up like a man and marched through in denial, a mask, like the stubborn ass he'd always been.
With a deep breath and a shaky hand rubbed through his short hair, his nerves were shot and his heart beat jack hammered a mile a minute.
But Dean began, slowly and surely with adrenaline like a juiced up hyper monkey on crack, Dean gathered his now sodden jacket from Sam's still oozing shoulder and ripped through Sam's own jacket and shirt, finding the tee underneath.
"Dammit Sam, you're like an onion with all these god damn layers...you cold?" he tried to make it sound light, reassuring but really the noticably breaking voice and panicked tone gave all that away.
Well fuck...am I gonna' do any job right?
He was met with a concerned stare from deep hazel eyes that brought a depth to Dean's heart, they weren't the bright vibrant orbs he knew, they were fading, clouded. Pain was evident in those too young eyes and Dean's soul ached for the kid.
He doesn't deserve all this shit...I hope he passes out before I have to start digging...dumb luck huh?
"De...Dean?" Sam asked, his voice thick, almost smothered by the pain he was feeling.
"I'm here Sammy, I'm right here...You're doing ok man, it's gonna' be fine...you'll see." Dean smiled.
But to Dean's amazement Sam just grabbed him closer by Dean's shirt and voiced with as much noise and confidence as he could. "Get this fucking bullet out of me!" And collapsed back into his bed, eyes scrunched shut and breathing shallow.
Dean stared dumbfounded, Sam must be pissed as hell and in bucket's a' pain if he's talking like that!
Well bend me over!...Sammy's got mouth!
"let's get your clothes off first Sam, just don't bite my head off." Dean cringed, maybe a moody-in-pain-cursing-Sam wasn't so good after all.
Three threats to mutilate Dean in different ways and two layers of blood covered shirts later, Sam was clad in his under shirt which stuck tightly to his shoulder with a continual flow of his life force, and muddied up denim clad legs.
Dean cut away the under shirt and red rivulets ran down Sam's side and chest, he glanced down and panicked looking to Dean.
The jackets and shirts by both brothers had been used to try and stem the bloodflow but neither had done the job and now left a growing pile of red clothing beside Sam's bed.
Fumbling the medkit open was a challenge when Dean's hand were all but covered in his brother's blood, every slip and slide on the large tin box that had saved them so many a time left red smears of hand shapes and finger drags that would dry and live to haunt another day.
Using pack upon pack of gauze and thick woolen pads to at least slow the blood leaking out of Sam wasn't helping either and every shift of weight from the wound or move from Dean on the bed sent Sam into waves of agony when he was jostled. Dean poured some peroxide onto a large gauze pad for later.
"Dean...just finish already, I can't take much more of this, I've lost too much blood already..." Sam glanced down at the mattress, noticing the spreading red stain.
"I can't get the bullet out yet Sam, I gotta' stop the bleeding first!" Dean pushed another heavy gauze on his lil' brother, a lil' too hard. "You won't stop bleeding Sam!"
"AHHHHHH...agh...not so damn hard Dean!" Sam arched his back and growled at Dean with a look that could hang, draw, and quarter a person.
I love you too bro...
"You wanna' be white and empty, cos' if I don't stop this flow you're gonna' end up pretty much like that." Dean bit back a cry when Sam squeezed his arm, he was sure Sam broke the skin.
"Jesus...I don't wanna be with you when you're giving birth." Dean chuckled, the gesture never fully reached his face, the wrinkles beside his eyes never gleamed and the smug plastered grin never showed, just a fake smile.
Dean's really worried for me?
A cold sweat soon formed like little silken beads on Sam's forehead, his eyes lost their Sam-ish touch to a pain inducing cloud that seemed to drain his entire body.
"Okay...okay, thank god!" Dean nearly screamed in excitement, the blood flow had slowed enough to a trickle by his constant pressure, now he could clean the damn thing and be one more step closer to finishing.
Stupid fucking bullet wounds, stupid fucking Bela, stupid fucking me not watching out for Sammy...fuck!
When Dean finally leg go of the wound, apparently the numbing power Dean had placed was lifted and all feeling came back.
Sam shook when he felt all the nerve endings catch fire. like he was being shot again and again with every single feeling notched up to detect every sensation, big or incredibly small.
A scream choked in his throat when his brother poured the peroxide on without warning, it fizzed and bubbled deep into the wound, deep into Sam's soft fleshy shoulder but the need to breathe was strong and Sam absorbed the pain through deep breaths, body shaking with the effort to remain calm, biting his lip until he could taste the red liquid he'd lost on his clothes in his mouth.
The second shot of peroxide was also unexpected but this time Sam's strength was diminishing and his barriers were unworthy against the onslaght of pain.
A primal scream was ripped from his throat, it caught Dean by suprise by the loudness of it. Dean placed a hand over Sam's mouth and tightened his grip mid-scream until it was muffled and died down in Dean's palm, when he lifted his hand Sam's breathing was laboured, short pained gasps were continuous, with the white knuckle death grip on the sheets Sam's fist had.
Dean was sure people in friggin China would've heard that scream.
Sam stared hazy eyed at Dean through his fogged out mind, "You suck...son of a bitch you suck..." Another gasp.
Dean shrugged innocently holding up the peroxide bottle still a quarter full.
Is he still not fucking done?
"Sorry." He shrugged. "It needed cleaning Sam..." With a saddened stare Dean continued "I've not done yet pal..." Dean winced as Sam's face paled even more, if that was possible and he shook his head side to side , mind made up.
"Don't you dare Dean...I can't!" Sam's voice broke and Dean nearly gave in and hugged Sam and made everything go back until it was safe.
Nearly, gave in.
Sighing and preparing the well mannered move that was to be exacted stealthily fast and elegent, Dean, in one fluid motion swung his left knee to pin Sam's arm and bring his left arm across Sam's torso holding him down with all his weight and might, Dean poured the remaining peroxide onto the wound via his right arm and pressed firmly over it with a shirt until the fizzing stopped, Sam's head craned between Dean's neck and shoulder and he held onto the scream with a muffled cry when the medicine did its work. Sam sunk back, moisture tinging his eyes, his voice husky and wet as if he'd been crying. He hitched a breath.
Quick inhales of air between his teeth, Sam tried to speak through his agony "You son of ... a bitch...that was...low." Another hitch in his breathing.
Dean quickly released Sam from his hold and noticed the deep lines on his younger brothers face, his heart went out for the lad but he had to do it.
Best fucking thing is, I haven't come up to the worst part yet. Fucking better and better...
Now that the would was cleaned, Dean had to actually get the bullet out...hard said, but harder to be done.
"Ok bro, you're doing great...worst parts over..."
yeah maybe he was lying but Dean hoped Sam would pass out before then...he better, or I'll knock him out my fucking self!
"S'not...get it over with...please Dean." Sam begged, and Sam never begged not with as much pleading as that. This shit had to end, and now.
Sam was breathing now in small puffs making little 'o' shapes with his mouth, like just breathing was zapping his energy.
Through his paleness Dean could see the bruises and cuts from where Sam had been tied to a chair, and beaten by Gordon's goons.
"This isn't turning out to be your day is is kiddo?" Dean sighed.
"You didn't get this much bad luck...things freakishly turn good for you." His voice got smaller, and quiter it was like Sam wasn't there at all by the end of his sentence.
"Maybe, I've still got my good luck...and you're still...ugh, let's not go there." Dean smiled that fake grin again and made Sam a little more comfortable. Now with the wound cleaned and the bleeding stopped Dean could quickly take out the bullet without Sam feeling it, but one glance at his baby brother and the frowns accross his brow when he moved or twitched that arm made that different, he couldn't do this part without hurting Sam more...might as well get it over with.
Dean retrieved the hardcore whiskey from a hip flask in his leather jacket and set the tweezers and pliers out on the bed.
"You're not gonna' use those are you?..." Sam's panicked gaze made him stop a moment.
"Yeah Sammy, either those or a heated knife...this is less painful...drink up." Dean tossed the flask of whiskey to Sam who downed most of it.
"Nothing could be less painful right now...my bruises have bruises, and with bullet holes and then I'm gonna' get plier plucked...great."
Dean picked up the pliers and tweezers and dipped them in a disinfectant soloution before wiping them clean. "You ready kiddo?"
"Nooo...but you're gonna' do it anyway...so..." Sam waved a hand and rested his head back on the bed, his breath still hitched and his face got paler.
"You're going into shock Sam...we gotta hurry, you've lost too much blood, been exposed too long." Dean grabbed the pliers and poised over the wound, his elbow pinning Sam with the help of his left knee like before to the bed.
One look at Sam's fearful face that was too young for his years, his face held absoloute trust for his brother to take care of him and with a nod from Sam, Dean let the pliers slip into the soft gooey tissue.
The pain started even before Dean touched the damn thing, but Sam didn't show until it got too much, with a yell and arch of his back only resulting in a flick of Sam's neck on the bounded up pillows from Dean's weight, Sam's face flustered and his adams apple bobbed with each painful heartbeat that moved the skin and tissue.
Turning his head away, Dean could see the vein in Sam's neck beating with every pulse trying to stop any screams getting out.
Digging in deeper and twisting trying to find the bullet, Dean lost his grip on the pliers and pulled away before he could hurt Sam.
Releasing a huge breath Sam relaxed into the bed and began to breath deeply. "You get it...?"
"No, it's in there pretty deep Sam." Dean was straight and to the point, Sam didn't need him lying through his teeth right now that things would be fine.
"No problem Sam, it's gonna be ok."
Ok maybe one little white lie, but look at the kid...shock's already setting in and I've no idea where the fuck that fucking bullet is, it's way deep and Sam doesn't need to be concious for when I go that far...things are so fucked up!
"Just get it done." Sam breathed.
Dean pinned Sam again and poised over the wound with the tweezers, he dove straight into the steadily bleeding mass and dug around blindly for the tiny metal object.
An object so friggin' small but caused so much friggin' damage!
Sam's mouth opened in a silent scream, his head pushed as far back as the bed and wall would allow.
Sam cried out again and again, his face reddened with the exertion of not screaming, he was beginning to think that chewing off his whole arm would be less painful when Dean announced he'd found the fucker.
"I got it...hold still."
"Agh...ahhhhhhhh..." Sam tried to ride the pain, his fists making deformed mountains with his grip on the bed sheets.
Carefully closing in around the bullet Dean slowly pulled from deep within the wound, blood oozed and flesh stuck when he tugged once more and the bullet came free about 3 inches long it clattered to a rest on the side table, a splash of crimson staining the object, the tweezers and the side table. Not to mention Dean, and Sam and half the bed.
"Okay...we're done." Dean sighed, but Sam just laid there, chest rising and falling unnaturally fast, eyes clenched tightly shut. "Sammy...?" Dean shook his brother's good shoulder.
"Ahhhh...Dean don't...agh." Sam paled and clenched his face tightly together, gasps barely getting any oxygen into his lungs. "Something's wrong...I can't...I..." Sam stuttered.
"J'us the shock Sammy...it's done a real number on ya'." But the look on Sam's face and the way he was reacting didn't seem like shock. Maybe something was wrong.
This can't be fucking happening, I just gotta stitch up that wound and then we'll see what's what...
The first stitch wasn't so bad, Sam didn't seem to notice but after the second and third he began to cry out and yelp, when Dean reached the middle of the wound he was sure Sam really felt it. His mouth opened in a silent scream before clamping shut and hiding the muffled cry, when Dean had finished the stitching of about thirty-two to Sam's shoulder he grabbed the earlier soaked gauze in peroxide and lifted it to the wound, unluckily Sam smelt the offending liquid and didn't want anything to do with it, rearing up into the headboard in fear with eyes wide open Sam tried to push Dean away but Dean tugged harshly on Sam's leg and brought him back to a horizontal position, and using that momentum to an advantage he pressed the heavily soaked pad on Sam who screamed on contact until his voice gave out.
His head reared back in a silent scream, he choked a breath, eyes tight when his features relaxed and his head rolled sidewards, his body lax.
Dean sighed "Thank you..." Removing the gauze and insuring the wound was properly cleaned out he placed fresh bandage and gauze and taped it in place over Sam's chest, just noticing the deep bruising that marred most of Sam's side over his ribs Dean assumed at least one was broken and he set to wrap them tightly before sam awoke and had another scream-a-thon.
Dean couldn't blame the lad but he wasn't going to put him through that again anytime soon.
A few hours later, the bed, Dean, Sam, medkit, clothes and half their band aids and gauze was still smothered in dark red stains but Dean would fix that later, Sam slowly came too, any movement triggered the marching band in his head, the fire had started in his shoulder and his chest ached with a deep need of attention.
Dean appeared with a bright eyed smile and handed Sam some painkillers and a glass of water, Dean changed the bandage and Sam sat up and leaned againt the headbaord until he felt the nausea pass.
"You doing any more stunt trips catching bullets anytime soon then?" Dean smiled wholeheartedly, Sam was gonna be ok.
Thank fuck my beating heart, that was a bit touch and go for awhile! I nealry lost my heart through my mouth!
Sammy stop scaring me all the time! Jeesh!
Sam's gonna' be ok...phew (thud)
"No...never...just one thing though." Sam's voice shook with what he'd endured but he road on.
"If you ever pin me down, or use those evil tricks like with the soaked guaze-"
Dean lifted his left hand deliberatley and swore. "Never, I swear on sweet American soil, and my own grave...never."
Sam rolled his bloodshot eyes, still as soft as the puppy he is and snickered.
"Ok, ok...scouts honour." Dean held up two fingers in the sign of 'peace' and smiled showing his teeth in a wide grin, his eyes closed happily.
They laughed and joked and drank some more whiskey to take the edge of the pain, Dean just liked the taste.
"I guess everyone's luck just has to run out..." Sam sighed, "Mine just took a swan dive when it did..."
"Not mine pal, I'm always lucky...it's the Dean Winchester charm..."
"Charm?...You have no charm, you lure the women in then drink the bar..." Sam smiled, his tone friendly and if a little tipsy.
"Ya' know though...there is one thing that went well today..."
"Oh, yeah and what the hell was that? Were you here while I was pummeled?" Sam sarcastically responded.
"At least an evil, killer...apocolyptic, children eating, neon clown didn't shoot you..." Dean shrugged to himself, and then giggled at Sam's face.
"Nooo." Sam drawled. "Sadistic physco bitch is always better huh?..." Sam eventually smiled at Dean, stupid, yet scarcastic out-there face and they fell asleep like that.
Happy, if not a little high.
Well as happy as a one-night-surgeon and one-shot-Winchester could be...