Thanks to those of you who are kind enough to review :) This is where we reach the conclusion of our story; so thanks to those of you have stuck with me to the end :) Little thing: in this chapter I mention insurance and stuff in hospitals :S We have the NHS over here so I have no idea about paying for medical care - it's all guesses based off tv programmes :P

Send In The Clowns

Blood... there was a lot of blood. He remembered that much. Although quite a lot of it was his own. Maybe. Or was it Sam's? Both, he hazily remembered, keeping his eyes closed in the ambulance, his stomach churning every time he felt the blood slick down his arms. He tried to move them, to stop the flow of blood, or to get away from the monster.

It was still there, right?

"Tony."

That sounded like Gibbs. That was good. Gibbs wouldn't let him die. And that must mean the monster was gone. He felt very childish, being scared of a monster - but at least it was real! It's not like it was in his head.

"Tony, stop moving and let the medics do their work."

He sounded strict. Not that he wasn't usually. But he sounded calm too. Or pretending to be. He wasn't sure now.

"Tony."

Now he sounded serious. And was that a hand on his wrist?

"Tony - Stop. Moving."

He should probably listen. He stilled his arms and tried to stop the panic inside him. He was getting quite jittery. And why was it so cold in here? Amublances should be the appropriate temperature for people who were dying - no, not dying. Injured. For people who were injured.

"He's going into shock - we need to get there soon, he needs a lot of blood."

Ah, a medic. She sounded smart. And she was right. He did need a lot of blood. His head was very swimmy. Was that a word? Swimmy?

"DiNozzo, stay calm and listen to me."

Ooh, Gibbs was talking again.

"Tony, you're going to be fine - we're almost there. Just hang tight 'til we get there, okay?"

He could do that.


Sam groaned at the pain in his arms. The world was wimming in and out of focus as the ambulance did all sorts of impressive weaves and skids through traffic that Dean would have been impressed with. That was a thought - where was his brother?

"Dean..." He mumbled. Where was he? Dean was always there. Always.

"Right here, Dude," Sam relaxed slightly. He must have lost consciousness at some point because he didn't remember being loaded onto the amublance, and he didn't remember Dean coming with him. He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. "Right here."

"We get it?" He asked weakly, trying to focus on the hand, hoping it would anchor him.

"Yeah," he heard Dean reply softly. "We got it, little brother."

"Tried to trap it," Sam felt it important to tell him - he didn't want Dean thinking he hadn't done anything to help.

"I know you did, Sammy," Dean said in a quiet, muffled voice. "But you lost a lot of blood, so we're just gonna pull in at this hospital, and they're gonna give you more, so you get back to your old, geek-boy self."

Sam tried to smile weakly at this little dig, but only succeeded in an odd grimace. "Bad?" He heard Dean question, seeing this as a pain-filled wince.

"Not good," he ground out in reply. How was he still conscious? He had lost way too much blood to be conscious. That was a fact. And he did like facts.

Keeping this in mind, he let himself pass out.


"What's taking them so long?" Dean growled, pacing the waiting room in anger. When Sam had passed out in the ambulance, the driver sped up, and they arrived only moments before Tony's pulled in. Now, both Dean and Gibbs were in a small room off to the side of the main waiting area. Gibbs had flashed his badge and they were given private rooms - as were Sam and Tony. Dean would have to start carrying his fake FBI credentials to the hospitals they frequently visited.

However, he had been forced to sign Sam in as 'Sam Winchester' since Gibbs was right behind him. And they didn't have any insurance. Since it was more or less a life saving thing they were doing at the moment, the doctors didn't really take much notice. But Dean didn't exactly have the funds to cover this.

"They'll be getting the blood from the banks for them both," Gibbs gave in an equal growl. "Tony's AB positive, we've always had a bit of a struggle getting him blood."

"Sammy's O negative - they should have that, right?" Dean stopped pacing to look at Gibbs, scared that his brother wouldn't be given blood.

"O is the most common," both men turned to find Ducky stood at the door, smiling gently at them both. "But the people within that group can only receive O, whilst everyone else can receive their own and O."

"Hey, Duck," Gibbs greeted with a small nod, before taking up Dean's space and paced for a while.

"Hi, Ducky," Dean said. "So, do you think they'll have it?"

"I assume so," he replied, going to take a seat.

They waited for half an hour in silence. Gibbs and Dean took it in turns to pace, whilst Ducky sat on the chair, sometimes flicking through a magazine. Usually it would just be him waiting in a hospital for one of the agents (but, more often than not, for Tony) as Gibbs would still be doing something within the case - where they still had to find suspects or whether he just had paperwork to do. Now though, Ducky bet that Gibbs would have no clue as to how to tell the director what had taken place. Dean was going to burn the body, he had said. How do they authorise that?

Suddenly, a doctor came into the room. "Agent DiNozzo?" He asked.

Gibbs stopped pacing and whirled around. "Yeah? How is he?"

"He should be fine - we've given him blood and stitched up the wounds. We can probably discharge him within a few days," Gibbs processed this and wanted to collapse onto a chair in relief. However, since Dean and Ducky were there, he simply nodded.

"What about Sam?" Dean asked urgently.

"We're running low on the blood he needs," the doctor said, with a slight frown. "We can keep him going on the supplies we have, but..." He left his sentence hanging ominously.

"No, no - no you said," Dean looked at Ducky imploringly, "that it was a common blood type; how did Tony get his?"

"Mr Winchester, time is of the essence, you can't afford to panic," the doctor told him simply. "Do you have the same blood type?"

Dean hurriedly racked his brains. How was it that he knew Sam's and yet not his own? Surely he would know if it was the same? "I... I don't know - can you test? Is there a quick way?"

"It should be in your file," the doctor said, quickly paging a nurse to bring it. "If not, we can take a small sample and send it to the lab."

Dean hoped that at some point his dad had taken him to the hospital for something when he was younger which meant he had his blood group on file. "Can I see Sam?" He asked, just as a nurse came rushing in.

"There's a file on a Dean Winchester, born in Lawrence, Kansas," she said, apparently wondering if it was the right Dean Winchester. "Blood type is O negative."

Dean closed his eyes in relief, but opened them again quickly when he felt the doctor pull him by the arm. "We need you to give us blood - will you do that?"

"Of course," Dean looked at the doctor like he was stupid. Why wouldn't he give blood to save his brother's life?

"In that case you should come with me - we'll get you set up," the doctor cocked a hand to make Dean follow him.


"You never make... that much fuss... over other things," Sam said, groggy from anaesthetic, watching his older brother wince as the nurse took some more blood.

Dean glared at him. "You're welcome," he said sarcastically, motioning towards the IV that was connected to Sam, and was pumping his older brother's blood into him. He suddenly felt much better, and looking down, Sam thought that the doctors had done a good job on the gashes on his wrists.

"Thanks," he replied, flashing a small smile at Dean, before wincing. He was sporting a large bruise on his face that he had no doubt received from the demon/boogeyman which was giving him hell every time he moved his face, even with the painkillers.

"So, are you ready to tell me why you tried to squeeze yourself out like a sponge to make a devil's trap?" Dean asked when the nurse had left, trying to instill some humour into the situation.

"'Cause I didn't have any paint with me," Sam quipped tiredly. He sighed as he saw Dean's 'I will make you tell me' face. "It was a demon - he possessed a boogeyman to draw us away from the yellow eyed demon."

"What?" Dean frowned. "We were getting close?"

"The vision I had," Sam told him, "it was him - he tried to blow Tony and Ziva up, the demon said it was because it would 'mess things up' if we got arrested."

"Mess what things up?" Dean growled.

"I don't know, Dean! It's not as if he just sat there telling me the whole plan!" Sam snapped irritably. "All I got to listen to was the 100 greatest pieces of movie trivia!" Sam's face softened slightly. "Although it did distract him. How's Tony?" He suddenly asked.

"I don't know, I've been hooked up to this vampire machine since I got told somebody needed my blood," Dean replied. "I'll go find out as soon as the - ah, speak of the angel," he grinned winningly at the nurse who came in to take the medical instruments out of his arm. She blushed and told him he could move around - but slowly.

"And if you feel light-headed, sit down and press the call button," she told him, before bustling out to see other patients.

"Alright, dude - I'll go see how Tony is," Dean went to get up, but Sam grabbed hold of his jacket sleeve.

"She said to move around slowly," he argued, keeping his weak hand clutched tightly to Dean.

"I'm not gonna run a marathon! It's just a walk down the corridor!" He looked down. "Dude. Think I can have my arm back at some point?"

"Maybe you should wait," Sam said, biting his lip. "In case you do feel dizzy," he flushed faintly and Dean realised he wasn't really concerned with his older brother's welfare - he knew that Dean had lost more blood than that and not fallen over. He just didn't want his big brother to leave him in a hospital room alone while he was still slightly dizzy and light-headed himself.

"You know what, I think I do feel a bit dizzy," Dean told him, sitting back down next to the bed. "I'll sit here a while."

Sam visibly relaxed and let his hand drop from Dean's arm. His head too, dropped back onto the pillow and he gave a tired sounding sigh.

"Get some rest, Sammy," Dean said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."


"But, Boss - I'm fine!" Tony all but whined from his bed a day later. "I'm going to see how Sam is," he attempted to get out of bed, but was again pushed back into it.

"He's fine too, DiNozzo," Gibbs informed him. "Last time I went to see how he was, he was asleep."

"You went to visit him?" Tony asked, startled. "How come I didn't get any visitors? Dean didn't come see if I was okay did he?" He asked. He felt like he'd made a friend in the oldest Winchester - well, in both - and felt quite upset that they hadn't checked up on him.

"No, but that could be because he was refusing to leave his brother, and refusing to let his brother get out of bed," Gibbs snorted, an odd smirk on his face. "He could stand to be less protective."

Tony gave an odd sounding cough. "Dear Kettle - you're looking quite black today. Yours sincerely, Pot," he grinned as Gibbs turned around to glare at him. "I mean, I know, they're so clingy - good thing you don't like anyone that much, Boss," Tony tried to hastily backtrack.

Gibbs' glare got, if possible, more menacing. "Keep digging, DiNozzo, you could be buried standing up at this rate."

"Sorry, Boss."

"Hey, guys," they looked to see both Winchesters stood at the door. "We're taking off, and thought we'd come say bye," Sam explained, holding his wrists carefully in front of him as Gibbs had seen Tony do when the dressings were changed. He also had an odd, spaced look in his eyes that showed he was on the good stuff (Unlike Tony, who had bizarre reactions to pain killers) which Dean seemed to be chuckling at.

"That's not fair!" Tony whined. "Why are you getting discharged and I'm not?"

"We have to hit the road," Dean told them. "Heard of a nest of succubi in Texas we need to attend to. Although we're probably going to stop off at a certain salvage yard before," he said this to Sam, "just so Bobby can see for himself that I didn't kill you."

"That and the fact we can't pay for medical treatment," Sam mumbled, the pain meds loosening his tongue.

"So we're flying the coop," Dean butted in hastily. "Get well soon, Tony."

"I'm well now," he insisted. "It's just that Gibbs isn't letting me leave."

Gibbs seemed to have ignored his statement and went to shake both Winchesters' hands. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem - hey look at that, Sammy - we were actually thanked for doing a job!" He seemed elated at this.

"Not the kind of thanking you usually want, Dean," Sam said, a large smile on his face.

"Someone's having a nap in the back of the car before going to Bobby's," Dean said forcefully, practically pulling Sam out of the room. "See you, guys - any more supernatural problems, just call us; I gave Tony my number."

"Abby's got mine," Sam added, blushing as everyone looked at him.

"You might want to hurry before Gibbs gets out his glare," Tony advised them. "Bye, Sam, Dean."

"Oh, about the body - just pour rock salt on it, a bottle of gas and light it up; it's the only way to be sure it's dead," Dean told them as some bizarre, last minute advise. "See you around," with one more nod, Dean left, pulling Sam with him.

After half a minute of silence and staring at the empty doorway, Tony perked up and said: "So, Boss - what are you going to tell the Director?"

Gibbs opened his mouth before closing it again.

Damn.

Eeeh, it's finished :D I love me some Winchester boys :D and NCIS boys, clearly ;) Thanks for sticking with me to the end guys - and even if you've never reviewed before, if you give me one now, just so I know what people thought of the story, I would be so happy :D