Mink (minkmix) wrote,
Mink
minkmix

SPN Fic: Back Roads- part 2

I honestly didn't think I would get to the rest of this today, but I did! Happy Birthday Kirsten! :) Oh hurt/comfort fic! You hurt and comfort so much like a hurty comforting thing....

Title: Back Roads part 1 - part 2 - part 3
Author: Mink
Rating: R - Gen - hurt!dean - h/c
Spoilers: None
Disclaimers: SPN & characters are owned by their various creators.



The highway was almost forty-five minutes away.

The nearest town was a half an hour outside of that.

Sam yanked the steering wheel and tore down the next dirt path that he saw. Any sign of life up here meant it might have something at the end of it besides more winding mountain road. The car bumped and careened down the well worn tire furrows as he sunk his foot down on the pedal. Their speed met a sudden dip where rain run off had eroded the way into a smooth fall and rise that actually caught them a little air. The tires came back down hard onto the ground causing his brother to hiss and stir beside him as they bounced in their seats.

"T-take it easy." Dean murmured in a dazed far off annoyance. "The shocks man, just had them replaced..."

Sam tried his phone again. He waited for the terrible sound cue of the signal dropping before tossing it aside.

The road narrowed into nothing but weeds and Sam swallowed back the feeling of his heart thudding sickeningly in his chest. They were practically driving through the trees before they broke out suddenly into a clearing of over grown grass and then there, just a few yards away was a cabin. It was one of those types that looked just like a cabin ought to, lined dark treated logs of wood stacked and interlocked with a warped sun bleached shingled cedar roof.

Sam pressed his hand down hard on the horn as he swung his door oopen.

In several long hard strides he was at the door, his fist pounding on it several times before he called out. Without waiting for any response he shouldered it. It jerked and creaked open even though he had been half expecting it to be locked. No such thing up here in the hills. Anyone that would be all the way out here would have never have owned a set of house keys.

He walked right into fine net of spider webs spread out across the doorway. Distractedly brushing them away from his face, he quickly took in the single room of the dim dusty place. The empty gun rack and the small utility kitchen that sat to the side of stone fire place told him every thing he needed to know.

This was a hunting lodge. Likely for some deer enthusiasts way back down over state lines and towards the closest big city. Probably only used in winter and almost more than likely left with some supplies. He moved to the nearest cabinet and found a neat stack of soup cans. The next he swung open revealed a half empty box of shot gun shells. The one after that was devoid of anything but some sprung mouse traps.

Sam heard himself make a small sound at the back of his throat as he thought of driving back down the dirt road in the swift coming dark and the precious time it would take to get to anyone that could--

His eyes fell on the corner of the cabin by a stripped bed.

There was a red cross painted on a large free standing glass doored chest.

Not daring to hope he fell on his knees in front of it and jiggled the lid for a breathless moment before the latch gave way. Almost hitting himself in the chin flinging it open, he tried to focus by calmly removing its contents. Nodding to himself he stood back up and took a moment to run both hands through his hair and taking a moment for several deep breaths.

Bracing himself, he walked back out the door.





Dean was leaning almost completely on him even though he could tell his brother was trying not to.

Sam ignored Dean's natural tendency to keep him at length and used the arm he had hooked around Dean's waist to practically carry him up the few porch stairs. Faltering at the door, Sam slipped his hand into Dean's belt and hoisted him the remaining feet to the bare mattress of the bed.

Dean settled back on it with a small stifled sharp pained sound that made Sam clench his teeth.

"I'm gonna take a look at it okay?" Sam warned. There was something about doing anything to his older brother without his express permission that came through even now.

Dean responded by shutting his eyes. The skin of his face was too pale. The passenger side of the Impala's seat had been a little too soaked through than Sam had been prepared for when he had helped his brother out of the car.

Pushing Dean's leather to either side he carefully peeled back his soaked shirt up over his belly. The hard metallic scent of his blood wafted as strong and heavy as wood smoke, Dean's hands shaking over Sam's, forcibly checking himself to not stop Sam's tentative examination.

At first Sam couldn't tell anything from the bright red mess that was his brother's lower torso. Ignoring Dean's pained protests, he tugged and yanked the blood soaked jeans down as far as he could on Dean's hips. He heard himself breathe a sigh of relief when he saw the fresh bleed from the entrance wound. It was no where near Dean's stomach or his midsection. Dad had told them often enough how incredibly bad and dangerous belly wounds were. It looked like the bullet had made entry just right above Dean's hip.

"I'm going to roll you okay? I have to see if it went through."

Dean let his head fall back and nodded limply.

Sam tried to make it fast, but he wasn't sure if the speed made it worse or better. Dean's body shuddered in his hands, crying out harshly when he was tipped on his side. It had gone clear through. As gently as he could, he returned his brother to rest on his back.

He quickly wrapped the sterile gauze he had pulled out before hand from the first aid chest and pressed it down evenly and firmly over Dean's wounds.

"S'bad?" Dean asked while struggling to sit up to look.

"It's nothin'." Sam said as calmly as he could manage while using his other hand to push Dean back down by his chest. "You might even live to brag about it."

What did Dad always say? Sam shut his eyes and could almost see the old man lecturing them on what a marine did out in the field when a man was down. Pressure. Ice if you had it. A single bullet rarely intersected arteries but they could make for a lot of exciting bleeding and a hell of a lot of pain. Dad loved to tell them about that most of all.

If a hot bullet goes right through ya Sammy, it feels like you've been skewered with a hot iron and let somebody twist in there while they were at it.

Sam readjusted his hands, staring intently at the ticking hand of his watch for that magical 10 minute mark where if he were to ease off, his brother's body might have ebbed the flow of his blood for them. Next was to get his lower body above his heart. Sam glanced around for something he could get up underneath his brother's legs.

It would be fine.

He'd get Dean's wound stanched and then they would have the time they needed to make their way down the mountain pass. They'd find a doctor right away. Sam could see the tired annoyed face of the local doc woken at some ungodly hour of the morning. There would be some long hospital stay that would drive Dean crazy. He'd complain about the food and the stupid smocks that were open in the back.

"W'as that..." Dean was drowsy with blood loss but still trying to watch exactly what was going on.

Sam slid the needle out from under the alcohol soaked cotton ball on Dean's arm.

"Morphine."

"Shit." Dean slurred as it quickly flooded his system.

Sam watched the muscles of his brother's body finally begin to relax, his heaving chest start to slow its harsh rhythm. The passage and exit of the keen edge of his pain making Sam start to relax ever so slightly along with him.

"Sammy..." His eyes fluttered closed.

"I'm right here, try not to move."

Sam was wrapping the gauze down tightly over his hip. He had found some rolled up blankets stashed under the bed and was pushing them up under Dean's knees to elevate his legs for the time being.

"Hey.. hey Sammy..." Dean was fading in and out with the strong dose of pain killer.

"What?"

"If anyone ever-ever offers to shoot you." Dean whispered to him sagely, his head lolling back on the old stained mattress. "S-say no fucking thanks."

Because he couldn't help it, Sam laughed breathlessly out loud.

"I'll try to remember that."


part 3


Tags: back roads
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