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Sunday, November 11, 2012

Learning Dean Winchester: Chapter One

        Sam woke to the sound of his cell ringing.  He picked up the phone and looked at the time on it.  The younger Winchester sat up, turned on the lamp, and answered, “Dean?  Where the hell are you?  It’s 3:50 in the morning!”


        “Dean?  Are you all right?”

        “No, Sammy.  I need you.  Please.  Come get me,” came a soft, whispery voice.

        “Okay, where you?  Where does your latest one-nighter live?”

        “Not there, Sammy.  I’m on a road.  I can’t drive any further.  I’m hurt bad.”

        “Is your gps on?”

        “Yeah.  Hurry, Sam.  I’m not doing good.  I can’t stop the bleeding.”

        “What?  Okay.  I’ll be there as fast I can.”

        Sam hung up the phone, dressed and looked for the items that  would be needed to stop whatever bleeding Dean had.  He made sure the med kit was full and left the motel room.  He found a van at the end and broke into the vehicle and hot-wired it. 

        It took fifteen minutes to locate his brother.  The car was on a dirt road outside of town.  Sam pulled his gun out as he left the stolen van. 

        He opened the driver’s door of the Impala.  Dean was unconscious.  Turning on the overhead light, he saw a large cut in Dean’s abdomen and inhaled at the amount of blood. 

        Working to stop the bleeding, he wrapped tape around a large pad and used a belt to tighten the pressure on the wound.  He slowly moved the man over to the passenger side and drove the Impala towards town.  He called Garth and asked for a hunter’s doctor.

        Garth came back to him with a doctor who lived on the other side of town.   Sam was grateful that the other man had called and paved the way.
Dean moaned and Sam glanced over.  It was too dark to tell if the man was okay.  He figured any sound was good at this point.  Frustration mounted as the younger hunter tried to figure out how his sibling had managed to turn a one night stand into such an injury. 

        The doctor was standing outside of his clinic with a gurney.  The two men worked to place the injured man onto the equipment and rolled him inside the building.

        “What happened to him,” the physician asked.

        “I have no idea.  He had a date, if you know what I mean,” Sam replied in disgust.


       “I doubt he knew her more than thirty minutes before he took her out.”

        “Ahhh.  Let’s see the damage,” the man responded as he undid the bandages.

        “He’s slit open. Cara, prepare 101 for surgery, please.”  Sam looked up as a woman in jeans and t-shirt entered.  She looked at the situation and ran towards the back to prepare.

        “Cara?” Sam asked.

        “My nurse.  Damned good one too.”

        Sam stood there as the nurse returned and helped the doctor take Dean towards the back.  Sam told them Dean’s blood type and went to sit in the waiting room. 

        Time passed slowly and Sam dozed off.

        At 8:15, the doctor woke the taller man.

        “How is he, Doc?”      
        “You need to find a place to stay awhile.  The cut was deep and I had to do some repair work.  The muscle will take time to heal.  No hunting or any extraneous movements.  He has to take it easy.  I’d say for at least three or four weeks.”

        “Are you serious?  With Bobby Singer dead, there’s no one who can make him stay still,” Sam ran his fingers through his long hair.  “Damn it!”

        “There must be someone he will listen to?”

        “Cas, maybe.  If I can find him.”

        “Good.  He can’t stay here.  This is a clinic.  You need to find a place and take him there.”

        The clinic door opened and a man in an over-sized trench coat walked in.

        “I have a place where he can stay, Sam.  Let’s remove him.”

        Before anyone knew what was happening, Castiel, Sam, Dean, and the Impala were gone.

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