Who: Dante(
albinoidiot) & Dean Winchester(
100deaths_a_day) & later Sam Winchester(
hunter_returnsWhat: Dean is badly injured and Dante does his best to save him. Sam walks in and... it just looks wrong.
Where: Winchester House
When: April 12th
Warning: Blood and people's mouths
Status: Incomplete. Closed.
(
Now that's the way you even a score... )
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No. He'd seen what the blood did to Sam, and healing powers or not, he still couldn't get over that in his brain. He didn't want that.
His heavy arms gave out from underneath him, and he fell back on the table with a flump. He opened his mouth to say no, refuse the offer, but the wetness that had been stuck in his throat had dislodged itself as he'd slumped back on the table. The refusals became a wet, hacking cough that had a metallic taste.
Oh great, coughing up blood. Yeah, Dean knows he's screwed, but hell - the 'no' is still screaming in his mind.
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Unfortunately for the hunter, Dante wasn't a doctor. There was nothing he could possibly do that could help the guy out. He didn't know how to work with what he had and quite frankly, he wasn't going to try. There was only one solution to this problem and it was a very fast one. Before he could start to retort, however, Dean had started coughing and gagging. He lifted up the guys head to help him out before moving to grab at Rebellion.
"Okay, dying man on the table. That's a green light in my book." He muttered as he brought the sword slicing against his wrist and began to position his arm above the wound. And now, all he had to do was wait for the drops to fall.
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Sam got to his feet, gun drawn, standing protectively over his wounded brother. “You stay the hell away from him,” he ground out.
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Crap.
"S'mmy..." the croaky wass all he could get out before another bloody coughing fit. Godamn it hurt.
The blood loss was pretty heavy now, the blood had drained from his face as his blood pressure sunk lower due to the lack of blod in his syastem, and his body felt more sluggish than ever. Dean reached out a hand, and it refused to move very far, brushing Sam's leg. He wanted Sam to stay there, he didn't want the blood, had seen what it had done to Sam, and could only hope that Sam would get the message.
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Jesus
There was blood everywhere, his skin was growing chilled. Sam pulled his jacket off, wadded it up and pressed it against the wound in his side in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding. "Hang on, Dean. Just hang on."
Then Dean rolled over, his body shaken with another bloody coughing fit and Sam felt a cold wave of fear. Whatever had hit his brother, it had damaged his lungs. He was having a hard time breathing.
In his frantic attempts to help his brother, he had completly forgotten about Dante.
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But he really didn't want the blood. He started quickly running through the options in his head. Ho- No, hope had left. Same with Willow. Dende... would still be a problem. He didn't know of anyone else that coould heal wounds of the top of his head. He cursed the fact it looked like his only option.
But, the look on Sam's face... it was all too much like his last year before Hell. He'd seen that look more and more. But, it was pretty much the look Sam had had when he was being ripped apart by Hell's puppies. He couldn't die in front of Sam. Not again. Especialy as last time it hadn't driven Sam off the deep, deep end. He would... He would lock himself away if he felt the sudden urge to bite Dante or something. He would have to. he had to do anything to get that look off his brother's face ( ... )
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“Dean? Just blink, anything. If you don’t want this? I’ll find another way. I’ll get help.. I’ll..”
He’d do what? The city was a damned wreck. He knew no one and Cas was long gone.
“I can’t.. Dean..” His hand was tight on his brother. All he needed was some kind of sign. Anything. He wouldn’t force it on Dean. He knew how risky blood was, especially magical blood.
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