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... )
When the liquid hit Dean's wound, the coldnes had brought him forth into semi-concious ness, the burn of the alcohol however, ripped him forth from that state with a blinding flare of pain. His back arched on the table, body contorting automatically, despite the fresh round of pain it brung. The wound spurted blood at the movement, Dean's warm blood starting to flow steadily from the wound at what could now be called an alarming pace. The movement had caused more damage to the alredy screwed bloodvessles in there. At the same time, he'd taken a sharp breath. Where he had not been breathing properly the winding that had been caused had not properly passed yet, and that was painful too. The excess air in his lungs was painfully and forcefully exhaled in a coughing fit.
This one felt different. A warmth stuck in his throat, but he was too stuborn to let it escape. he held back on the urge to cough out again.
He opened his eyes and surveyed the scene. He was in his house? How? Whe- that thought broke off as he made eye contact with Dante.
Well, at least he wasn't dying alone.
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"Don't you dare think about dying, moody hunter." He muttered, his eyes shooting to the gushing wound, a hand moving to rest on Dean's head to try and push him back to the table. "Don't move, okay? I'm gonna patch you up. Just trust me."
Now, because of the way the wound actually was but he couldn't really use certain methods to treat him. Skin had been burned off by the laser, there was nothing to sew. The only thing he could do was dress it but, that was a lot of bleeding going on. He had to stop it. The only way he could think about was... well...
The last time Dante had tried to do something demon-like with Dean, the guy had shot him. He had a slight notion that Dean would actually shoot him again. A good thing for him, the guy would actually be too weak to retort. Regardless, he just had to ask. This was a way to help Dean, he'd done it before. Nothing bad had happened, the worst thing would be letting him die. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if that happened, especially when Dean had just taken the hit-
No, don't think about that. Not right now, Dammit.
"Dean, I need to use my blood again. It'll heal you. A lot better than vodka and a bunch of needles and thread. Okay?"
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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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The slit wrist by his side was still dripping and oozing creating a nice puddle on the ground. He gave a small grunt, why couldn't it do that on the hunter.
"Listen Sam, this isn't what it looks." Okay, it might be a little from what details Dean bothered to disclose but that was the hard part of Dante's job: convincing people he wasn't trying to eat them.
"I didn't wanna meet you this way but I guess I have no choice. You probably all ready guessed it, I'm not a hundred-percent human. Just half. That bein' said, I'm not trying to hurt Dean, I'm trying to save him. My blood can heal him. I've actually done it before, the guy just can't think right now. So at least give me the consent to heal him. Shoot me afterward."
Wouldn't be the first time.
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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.
"s'mmy..." He turned his head to look at Dante. Hopefully Sam would get the message.
Dean... He'd deal with not dying on Sam now, and being a monster later, if it came to it.
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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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