(fic) ~Really~ Bad Day At Black Rock (PG-13?)
“Oh fuck…” Dean whispered, scrubbing a hand over his face before clearing his throat. “Okay, Sammy, it’s not that bad. We’ll just-“ Dean trailed off, unsure and staring at their surroundings, head spinning at just how they’d gotten into this situation. In only a few hours, they had gone from winning thousands of dollars on scratch tickets, to Bela foiling their ritual and shooting Sam in the shoulder. The impact force of the bullet had been strong enough (probably with the damned rabbit foots help) to create a blur of events that had put them here. A large red oak tree had fallen and was crushing Sam’s arm under its weight.
Sam was laying on his side, curled in as much of a ball as possible, looking pathetic with one shoe still missing. His chest was rising and falling with shallow movements, eyes clenched shut and his jaw tight around the pain. The way he was clawing at his arm, grabbing with no obvious purpose other than to move. “Dean...”
Dean’s chest sunk at the weak sound of his brother’s voice. “Okay, okay... I’ll find something to lift the tree up, to leverage it and we can get you out.” Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Dean desperately searched for another tree to use to jack the fallen one up. He told himself all he could hear was his heart pounding, but Dean knew he was just distracting himself because if he wasn’t listening to his own frantic heartbeat, he would be focused on the groans Sam was fighting to hold in, and that just wouldn’t be productive.
In a minute, Dean had rolled a large rock by the tree and a near impossibly large tree was wedged like a teeter totter and he was sweating in trying to lift the weight of the tree smoothly so it didn’t hurt his little brother anymore.
The tree shifted. Sam yelled. Blood began soaking the ground and Sam’s clothes.
“FuckfuckFUCK!” Dean strained to hold the tree in place, to push it further up, the blood making him nauseous purely because it was his brother’s. The blood he was supposed to protect.
“Dean...stop...stop.” Sam groaned, the hint of sobs threatening to come out.
“Just hold on, Sammy, I got you. I’ve almost got it, just pull free as soon as-“
“STOP!” Sam yelled, startling Dean into immobility. “Put it down...Dean, put it down or i’ll die..” he rasped, struggling to turn his head.
Dean stared down at him. Clearly he was nuts. He had to be, right? Put the tree that was crushing his arm....down? No way. “You’re going to be okay, we’ll get you to a hospital.”
Sam managed to roll onto his back, revealing the tears that streaked through the dirt on his face, face crumpled in pain. “No, Dean, put it down. I’m serio---ugh...” Sam rolled back over to clutch at his shoulder as if it would help. “If you lift...it off...” Sam panted, “there are toxins from the crushed-“ Sam trailed off, eyes squeezing shut as if the mere word caused him pain.
“We’ll tie your arm off then-“
“It’ll kill me.”
Dean groaned, letting the tree slowly set back into place even though he’d barely lifted it. He kneeled in front of Sam, chin quivering as he fought the tears and anger. He was going to fucking explode that rabbit’s foot. “Then what am I supposed to do, Sammy? I can’t just leave you here,” his voice cracked.
Sam remained silent, so Dean moved to cradle his head on his knees, mind racing to think of an alternative. If Sam stayed here, he’d die, but if Sam was right about moving the tree-he’d still die. Maybe this was because he’d lost the foot to Bela now. This was his bad luck, losing his brother.
Sam was sweating, turning his face away from Dean, but Dean could still see the tears streaming down his face and the grimaces he made with each breath. “Go to the car,” Sam rasped.
“Like hell, I’m going anywhere,” Dean scoffed, resisting the urge to flick Sam on the back of the ear for the preposterous idea of leaving.
Paling more each second that passed, Sam turned, eyes dark and painful to look at. There was his Sasquatch brother, weak, and now uncaring that his tears were mixing in with his sweat in plain view. “M’serious...” he breathed, eyes pleading. “Find Bela before you die too.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
Carefully putting Sam’s head back on the ground, Dean stood, his poker face sliding back into place, helping him mask the pain to himself as well. “I’ll be back Sammy, I’m getting help, just hang in there.”
Dean rushed to the Impala, mentally mapping out how far the nearest Hospital was and how long it would take them to get here. Not fast enough. They would rush, sure, but not fast enough. Sammy needed to leave for the Hospital now. With a moment of rest, Dean rested his hands on the edges of the trunk after tossing his duffel in there. But Sam can’t leave to get to the Hospital now...
That was when he saw it. The horrible instrument that made Dean think the impossible, and he knew it was his only option. The knife.
Dean ran a hand over his face and through his hair, glancing from the blade back to the direction that his baby brother was lying in pain. Would you rather live without him? Risk that? Cursing his own mind, Dean upturned his duffel to empty it before tossing in a knife, some old clothes, water and a bag of ice from the cooler. At last thought, he grabbed a beer and threw it in and dashed back to Sam.
Skidding to a halt in the small clearing, Dean’s chest tightened instantly at the sight of Sam outright crying and yelling in agony-but biting his hand to the point that it was bleeding so he could muffle it.
“Jesus, Sammy...” Dean quickly put his bag down by Sam’s side, fighting - and losing - the tears as he did what he could to get Sam to focus on him again. “I’m not going, Sam, I’m right here. I...” His throat clenched tight at the mere thought, let alone telling Sam, but he knew he had to push through. “I’m going to cut you free...”
He couldn’t wait to see Sam’s reaction, couldn’t bare to see it, so instead he grabbed one of the shirts from the bag and looped it around a tree. Hand on Sam’s shoulder, he winced as Sam whimpered while he rolled him onto his back and stretched his free arm so he could restrain it to the shirt-tree.
Dean frowned, trying to focus on individual tasks as opposed to what was really going on. Taking a shaky breath, Dean let his blade rest in his hand and moved to kneel beside the trapped limb. Sam’s eyes were wide, and he wanted to focus on the fact that there was clarity in them now, instead of the haze from the pain-but it didn’t make him feel any better. He knew that he was about to cause Sam maybe the most pain they’d experienced-demonic or not.
“No...Dean don’t. Just go, I’ll be fine,” Sam pleaded before forcing a smile. “See? Just fine!”
“I’m not leaving you to die here,” Dean deadpanned, keeping as much emotion contained inside him as he could. “I’ll try to make it quick, Sammy, I swear.” The tie slid under and around Sam’s arm easily enough, and it took all of Dean’s force to tighten it as tightly as he could and to tie it off.
Quickly adverting his eyes again, Dean brought the blade down to Sam’s trapped arm, just beside the tree before quickly dragging the sharp edge down and across Sam’s arm with as much force as he dared. Sam’s guttural groan quickly progressed into a yell as the blade split the skin apart.
He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, until he let it go, looking at the damage he’d caused. The forearm had a deep cut across the width, but it wasn’t nearly deep enough, and Dean felt sick at the thought of having to put more force behind the strokes that would eventually cut his brother’s arm free.
“M’sorry Sammy....just hold on...”
Another deep breath, another forced slide of the blade down into the cut already there. Another attempt at restraining his yell as Sam kicked once absently at the ground he was laying on.
Tears blurred Dean’s vision and he grabbed the beer he’d brought and did his best to give Sam some to drink, if nothing but to keep his throat somewhat moist from all the yelling. He took a gulp after Sam’s head tossed to the side, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his jaw still set in determination-as if he hadn’t already been crying out.
Grabbing a smaller knife from the bag, Dean set to a sawing motion to cut through the skin and muscle, cursing and apologizing as he cut through an artery and tendon. It was when the blade barely touched a small, thin strand of something that Sam screamed, thrashing on the ground and pulling at his restrained arm, legs pushing at the ground as if arching his back would help the pain.
Gulping another swig of beer, Dean hastily wiped his face with the hem of his shirt, frantically trying to calm Sam. “Oh shit, what the fuck?!”
Sam’s body was shaking as if he was naked on ice, and yet he was drenched in sweat and his hair was matted to his face in every which direction. “N...er...ves...” Sam weakly croaked out, finally taking what Dean assumed would be the most rest he would get at the moment. He was pale, but he’d stopped yelling and thrashing, but through the sweat, Dean could still see the tears welling up in Sam’s unfocused eyes.
“Fuck...” Dean looked back at the wound, barely realizing his hands were dripping in his brother’s blood. “Then I hate to tell you...there are a lot more nerves to cut through...” What am I doing? I’m killing him! Dean’s hand shook and he dropped the blade. “I can’t do this Sammy...I shouldn’t have-“
With a groan and a hiss of pain, Sam turned his head to look at Dean, or at least his direction. “You....had better....f...finish now. Don’t...wuss out on me...”
Pursing his lips together, Dean nodded, and grabbed the blade, blinking in determination to get this done. He needed to be strong, he had to be strong for Sam, because he wasn’t the one losing an arm. But you’re the one cutting it off.
Biting his lip, Dean cut through a nerve, then another and another until the’d all been cut and Sam’s screams were deafening. “Shh...it’s okay! It’s okay, Sammy!” Dean yelled desperately, throwing his body sideways to hold Sam’s legs down as he thrashed in agony. It was nothing but okay, and Dean wanted to shove the blade into his own gut for the pain he was causing to Sam, but he clung to one thought, repeating it over and over. This is to save Sam. Save Sammy.
He was unsure how long it took Sam to still, and Dean wished more than anything that this was over, but surely that had to be the worst part, the rest was just more muscle and tendon and-
“Sonovabitch!” The bone. He needed to get through the bone. “Sam...Sam stay with me. This is all gonna be over soon, I promise-but I...” Dean ran a hand through his own hair again, taking a moment to breathe and try to calm his own racing heart. “I gotta break your arm dude.”
Sam laid there, glassy eyed and staring at the trees above them, struggling to get regular breaths in but it wasn’t screams, so Dean took it as the go-ahead he needed and carefully untied Sam’s one arm. He winced as he saw the burns the soft shirt had made with all of Sam’s struggles and continued on to wedge his knees under Sam’s head again, easing him into a more sitting position. “On three, okay? One-“
CRACK!
The sound echoed around them-or maybe it was only in his own ears-and he cursed whoever had decided that the arm needed two bones to function. Panic settled on his chest when Sam didn’t lash out in pain, but only let a yell out. Either it was a testament to Sam’s will to avoid hurting Dean, or it showed just how painful everything else had been when he acted like he only whacked his funny bone.
Sam’s head lolled forward, and Dean scrambled to grab the blade, and in a bought of fury at the tree (at Bela, at the rabbit for letting his foot get taken, at anything) he swung the blade with all his strength at the wound and the bones (that had thankfully broken in a useful place).
Sam jerked back into consciousness as the release of the other muscle connecting him to his arm was sliced through, yelling and tossing his head back against Dean’s shoulder behind him. Dean wasted no time in grabbing the shirt and wrapping it around what was now a stump of Sam’s arm, soaking the blood that was bleeding through with all other clothes he had stuffed in his bag.
Duffel bag looped on one arm, Dean picked his barely conscious brother up and weaved through the trees back to the Impala to plop him in the back seat. “Hang on Sam, you did good. Just a little more...there’s a Hospital a few hours away...I’ll get us there in half an hour. Just hold on.”
Making sure the giant’s legs were tucked completely inside the doors, Dean was peeling out of the road before his door was even closed, glancing back at Sam every few seconds.
“Dean...”
“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean glanced back to see Sam cradling his bleeding....non-arm, looking pale and half out of it, yet still trying to crack a smile.
“I guess I’m doing all the research now, eh?”
He wasn’t sure why, but Dean laughed. “You kidding me? We’ll attach a blade to that stump and you’ll be the best hunter alive.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Sam was laying on his side, curled in as much of a ball as possible, looking pathetic with one shoe still missing. His chest was rising and falling with shallow movements, eyes clenched shut and his jaw tight around the pain. The way he was clawing at his arm, grabbing with no obvious purpose other than to move. “Dean...”
Dean’s chest sunk at the weak sound of his brother’s voice. “Okay, okay... I’ll find something to lift the tree up, to leverage it and we can get you out.” Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Dean desperately searched for another tree to use to jack the fallen one up. He told himself all he could hear was his heart pounding, but Dean knew he was just distracting himself because if he wasn’t listening to his own frantic heartbeat, he would be focused on the groans Sam was fighting to hold in, and that just wouldn’t be productive.
In a minute, Dean had rolled a large rock by the tree and a near impossibly large tree was wedged like a teeter totter and he was sweating in trying to lift the weight of the tree smoothly so it didn’t hurt his little brother anymore.
The tree shifted. Sam yelled. Blood began soaking the ground and Sam’s clothes.
“FuckfuckFUCK!” Dean strained to hold the tree in place, to push it further up, the blood making him nauseous purely because it was his brother’s. The blood he was supposed to protect.
“Dean...stop...stop.” Sam groaned, the hint of sobs threatening to come out.
“Just hold on, Sammy, I got you. I’ve almost got it, just pull free as soon as-“
“STOP!” Sam yelled, startling Dean into immobility. “Put it down...Dean, put it down or i’ll die..” he rasped, struggling to turn his head.
Dean stared down at him. Clearly he was nuts. He had to be, right? Put the tree that was crushing his arm....down? No way. “You’re going to be okay, we’ll get you to a hospital.”
Sam managed to roll onto his back, revealing the tears that streaked through the dirt on his face, face crumpled in pain. “No, Dean, put it down. I’m serio---ugh...” Sam rolled back over to clutch at his shoulder as if it would help. “If you lift...it off...” Sam panted, “there are toxins from the crushed-“ Sam trailed off, eyes squeezing shut as if the mere word caused him pain.
“We’ll tie your arm off then-“
“It’ll kill me.”
Dean groaned, letting the tree slowly set back into place even though he’d barely lifted it. He kneeled in front of Sam, chin quivering as he fought the tears and anger. He was going to fucking explode that rabbit’s foot. “Then what am I supposed to do, Sammy? I can’t just leave you here,” his voice cracked.
Sam remained silent, so Dean moved to cradle his head on his knees, mind racing to think of an alternative. If Sam stayed here, he’d die, but if Sam was right about moving the tree-he’d still die. Maybe this was because he’d lost the foot to Bela now. This was his bad luck, losing his brother.
Sam was sweating, turning his face away from Dean, but Dean could still see the tears streaming down his face and the grimaces he made with each breath. “Go to the car,” Sam rasped.
“Like hell, I’m going anywhere,” Dean scoffed, resisting the urge to flick Sam on the back of the ear for the preposterous idea of leaving.
Paling more each second that passed, Sam turned, eyes dark and painful to look at. There was his Sasquatch brother, weak, and now uncaring that his tears were mixing in with his sweat in plain view. “M’serious...” he breathed, eyes pleading. “Find Bela before you die too.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
Carefully putting Sam’s head back on the ground, Dean stood, his poker face sliding back into place, helping him mask the pain to himself as well. “I’ll be back Sammy, I’m getting help, just hang in there.”
Dean rushed to the Impala, mentally mapping out how far the nearest Hospital was and how long it would take them to get here. Not fast enough. They would rush, sure, but not fast enough. Sammy needed to leave for the Hospital now. With a moment of rest, Dean rested his hands on the edges of the trunk after tossing his duffel in there. But Sam can’t leave to get to the Hospital now...
That was when he saw it. The horrible instrument that made Dean think the impossible, and he knew it was his only option. The knife.
Dean ran a hand over his face and through his hair, glancing from the blade back to the direction that his baby brother was lying in pain. Would you rather live without him? Risk that? Cursing his own mind, Dean upturned his duffel to empty it before tossing in a knife, some old clothes, water and a bag of ice from the cooler. At last thought, he grabbed a beer and threw it in and dashed back to Sam.
Skidding to a halt in the small clearing, Dean’s chest tightened instantly at the sight of Sam outright crying and yelling in agony-but biting his hand to the point that it was bleeding so he could muffle it.
“Jesus, Sammy...” Dean quickly put his bag down by Sam’s side, fighting - and losing - the tears as he did what he could to get Sam to focus on him again. “I’m not going, Sam, I’m right here. I...” His throat clenched tight at the mere thought, let alone telling Sam, but he knew he had to push through. “I’m going to cut you free...”
He couldn’t wait to see Sam’s reaction, couldn’t bare to see it, so instead he grabbed one of the shirts from the bag and looped it around a tree. Hand on Sam’s shoulder, he winced as Sam whimpered while he rolled him onto his back and stretched his free arm so he could restrain it to the shirt-tree.
Dean frowned, trying to focus on individual tasks as opposed to what was really going on. Taking a shaky breath, Dean let his blade rest in his hand and moved to kneel beside the trapped limb. Sam’s eyes were wide, and he wanted to focus on the fact that there was clarity in them now, instead of the haze from the pain-but it didn’t make him feel any better. He knew that he was about to cause Sam maybe the most pain they’d experienced-demonic or not.
“No...Dean don’t. Just go, I’ll be fine,” Sam pleaded before forcing a smile. “See? Just fine!”
“I’m not leaving you to die here,” Dean deadpanned, keeping as much emotion contained inside him as he could. “I’ll try to make it quick, Sammy, I swear.” The tie slid under and around Sam’s arm easily enough, and it took all of Dean’s force to tighten it as tightly as he could and to tie it off.
Quickly adverting his eyes again, Dean brought the blade down to Sam’s trapped arm, just beside the tree before quickly dragging the sharp edge down and across Sam’s arm with as much force as he dared. Sam’s guttural groan quickly progressed into a yell as the blade split the skin apart.
He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, until he let it go, looking at the damage he’d caused. The forearm had a deep cut across the width, but it wasn’t nearly deep enough, and Dean felt sick at the thought of having to put more force behind the strokes that would eventually cut his brother’s arm free.
“M’sorry Sammy....just hold on...”
Another deep breath, another forced slide of the blade down into the cut already there. Another attempt at restraining his yell as Sam kicked once absently at the ground he was laying on.
Tears blurred Dean’s vision and he grabbed the beer he’d brought and did his best to give Sam some to drink, if nothing but to keep his throat somewhat moist from all the yelling. He took a gulp after Sam’s head tossed to the side, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his jaw still set in determination-as if he hadn’t already been crying out.
Grabbing a smaller knife from the bag, Dean set to a sawing motion to cut through the skin and muscle, cursing and apologizing as he cut through an artery and tendon. It was when the blade barely touched a small, thin strand of something that Sam screamed, thrashing on the ground and pulling at his restrained arm, legs pushing at the ground as if arching his back would help the pain.
Gulping another swig of beer, Dean hastily wiped his face with the hem of his shirt, frantically trying to calm Sam. “Oh shit, what the fuck?!”
Sam’s body was shaking as if he was naked on ice, and yet he was drenched in sweat and his hair was matted to his face in every which direction. “N...er...ves...” Sam weakly croaked out, finally taking what Dean assumed would be the most rest he would get at the moment. He was pale, but he’d stopped yelling and thrashing, but through the sweat, Dean could still see the tears welling up in Sam’s unfocused eyes.
“Fuck...” Dean looked back at the wound, barely realizing his hands were dripping in his brother’s blood. “Then I hate to tell you...there are a lot more nerves to cut through...” What am I doing? I’m killing him! Dean’s hand shook and he dropped the blade. “I can’t do this Sammy...I shouldn’t have-“
With a groan and a hiss of pain, Sam turned his head to look at Dean, or at least his direction. “You....had better....f...finish now. Don’t...wuss out on me...”
Pursing his lips together, Dean nodded, and grabbed the blade, blinking in determination to get this done. He needed to be strong, he had to be strong for Sam, because he wasn’t the one losing an arm. But you’re the one cutting it off.
Biting his lip, Dean cut through a nerve, then another and another until the’d all been cut and Sam’s screams were deafening. “Shh...it’s okay! It’s okay, Sammy!” Dean yelled desperately, throwing his body sideways to hold Sam’s legs down as he thrashed in agony. It was nothing but okay, and Dean wanted to shove the blade into his own gut for the pain he was causing to Sam, but he clung to one thought, repeating it over and over. This is to save Sam. Save Sammy.
He was unsure how long it took Sam to still, and Dean wished more than anything that this was over, but surely that had to be the worst part, the rest was just more muscle and tendon and-
“Sonovabitch!” The bone. He needed to get through the bone. “Sam...Sam stay with me. This is all gonna be over soon, I promise-but I...” Dean ran a hand through his own hair again, taking a moment to breathe and try to calm his own racing heart. “I gotta break your arm dude.”
Sam laid there, glassy eyed and staring at the trees above them, struggling to get regular breaths in but it wasn’t screams, so Dean took it as the go-ahead he needed and carefully untied Sam’s one arm. He winced as he saw the burns the soft shirt had made with all of Sam’s struggles and continued on to wedge his knees under Sam’s head again, easing him into a more sitting position. “On three, okay? One-“
CRACK!
The sound echoed around them-or maybe it was only in his own ears-and he cursed whoever had decided that the arm needed two bones to function. Panic settled on his chest when Sam didn’t lash out in pain, but only let a yell out. Either it was a testament to Sam’s will to avoid hurting Dean, or it showed just how painful everything else had been when he acted like he only whacked his funny bone.
Sam’s head lolled forward, and Dean scrambled to grab the blade, and in a bought of fury at the tree (at Bela, at the rabbit for letting his foot get taken, at anything) he swung the blade with all his strength at the wound and the bones (that had thankfully broken in a useful place).
Sam jerked back into consciousness as the release of the other muscle connecting him to his arm was sliced through, yelling and tossing his head back against Dean’s shoulder behind him. Dean wasted no time in grabbing the shirt and wrapping it around what was now a stump of Sam’s arm, soaking the blood that was bleeding through with all other clothes he had stuffed in his bag.
Duffel bag looped on one arm, Dean picked his barely conscious brother up and weaved through the trees back to the Impala to plop him in the back seat. “Hang on Sam, you did good. Just a little more...there’s a Hospital a few hours away...I’ll get us there in half an hour. Just hold on.”
Making sure the giant’s legs were tucked completely inside the doors, Dean was peeling out of the road before his door was even closed, glancing back at Sam every few seconds.
“Dean...”
“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean glanced back to see Sam cradling his bleeding....non-arm, looking pale and half out of it, yet still trying to crack a smile.
“I guess I’m doing all the research now, eh?”
He wasn’t sure why, but Dean laughed. “You kidding me? We’ll attach a blade to that stump and you’ll be the best hunter alive.”
~~~~~~~~~~