Chapter Text
Sam fumbled for his phone. It had fallen under the seat at some point but now he knew he needed to make the call. They were only a half hour away. She could help. Dean would... Dean would have to deal with it. If they didn’t get help now there was a chance they wouldn’t make it through the night. His chest was aching but his leg was worse. There was no way he could walk, let alone drive.
“Dean?” he called to his brother in the back seat.
Dean had been... out of it, so to speak, for the last few hours.
Sam groaned as he grabbed the phone and struggled back upright, no response from Dean. Not good.
He turned to peer into the back, wincing as he jostled his leg.
“Dean? Come on, man.”
He reached down to feel Dean’s sweat slicked forehead and hissed at the heat pouring off him.
“S’m?”
“Yeah, take it easy, brother. I’m getting help, okay? Just hang tight.”
...
The phone buzzed on the wooden counter, vibrating ominously in the empty bar.
Riley wiped her wet hands on the rag she was using to clean. They were still sticky in places from spilt beer. Her heart had sped a little at a call at this hour of the night.
“Wait...” she muttered as she saw the name before answering quickly, “Hello? Sam?”
The line was quiet, save for a few haggard breaths on the other end.
“Sam, is that you? Talk to me.”
“Riley?”
Sam’s voice had changed, and there was definite pain in it. Current, very real pain.
“I, um... are you busy right now?”
“Where are you, Sam? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“No... we -“ Sam broke off into a wretched cough, “we’re not doing so hot.”
“Dean’s with you?”
Sam cleared his throat, a long pause following, “He’s bad, Riley. It’s... it’s really bad.”
“Where are you?”
“We were... headed south on highway 85. I don’t know exactly where. We’re, uh, pulled up on the side of the road.”
“In the impala?” Riley was already locking up the bar, bag slung over her shoulder, the beer stains forgotten.
Sam chuckled on the other end, “Of course.”
Riley swallowed a lump in her throat, “I’m on my way. I’ll drive till I find you.”
“We’re a half hour south of Greenville.”
“Sam, can I talk to Dean?”
The line rustled on the other end, more coughing came but it sounded too far away to be Sam.
“Dean can’t talk right now.”
“Shit,” she cursed, “How bad is this? Do you need an ambulance or a hospital?”
“Riley, I can’t explain... but we can’t go to a hospital. Please. We just... we need your help.”
“I’m driving as fast as I can.”
...
Sam pushed the dirty rag harder against his wound on his thigh and heard the squelch of fresh blood.
“Dean, man? Give me a sign of life, something.”
Dean groaned in the back seat.
“Good. That’s good,” Sam sighed.
Dean coughed and Sam could hear the fluid come out his mouth and hit the upholstery.
“Shit, Dean. You gotta sit up. You’re gonna suffocate like that,” Sam was already trying to push himself up. He needed to get out and around to the back door. Or lean over and drag Dean upright. But his leg was bleeding a lot, and the more he moved the more it bled. But in the light of the moon Dean’s face was sickly white, his lips suspiciously blue, and he couldn’t sit there and watch his brother die in the back seat of the impala.
“Dean? How’s the bullet wound?”
Dean coughed again and this time it was like he was fighting for every inhale.
“Okay. I’m getting you upright if it kills me.”
Sam let pressure off his leg to reach both hands over the seat and grab Dean’s shoulders. Dean arched with pain, letting out a yelp.
“Sorry... sorry.”
The hand Dean had pressed against the bleeding wound on his shoulder fell limp to his side as Sam manhandled him upright against the door, although Dean gasped in, and it was like he received oxygen for the first time in hours, his lips fading to dusky pink instead of blue.
“Dean? Breathing is good.”
Dean coughed again and Sam grabbed his right hand and pushed it against his shoulder. “Keep pressure on it. I’ll dig the bullet out later.”
Dean groaned but the message seemed to be understood. “Y’r leg...”
“It’s fine, Dean. Focus on breathing.”
Sam let his brother go and looked back at the mess that was his leg. Applying pressure again made him weak, but the bone wasn’t broken, and it was bleeding a lot but it wasn’t his artery. It would be okay. It had to be.
“Help’s on the way,” he whispered, and then let sweet unconsciousness take him.
…
Riley almost missed the car. Which was strange considering how big and conspicuous it was. But in the black of night, along a stretch of highway with no streetlights, tucked into the trees, it was almost impossible to see. She pulled in just in front of it, and grabbed her first aid kit from under her passenger seat.
As she approached the car she could hardly see anything through the windows, and definitely no movement.
She rapped on the passenger side window, trying to wipe away some condensation but it was on the other side of the glass, “Sam? Dean?”
Trying the handle the door was unlocked and she pulled it open with a creak.
“Oh, God, Sam…”
Sam was pale, drawn, slumped behind the steering wheel, head tilted back. His hand was still pressed against his leg, which was covered in red, sticky blood. The leg of his jeans was saturated. She thought Sam looked bad… until she saw Dean.
“Dean, oh my God,” She went round to the back door and swung it open, climbing in the back seat, straddling Dean’s legs, “Hey! Wake up!”
She yelled, feeling his skin, palpating for a pulse in his neck.
He was warm, hot, fever bright – but it was miles better than the ice cold she’d expected to feel. His heart rate was thready, and fast.
“Riley.”
Hands fisted in Dean’s bloody shirt, she turned to Sam.
“Is he okay?” he mumbled, eyes barely focusing.
“No… No, he’s not,” she looked back at Dean, putting a hand to his face, “Neither are you.”
Sam started coughing and it sounded awful, rattling and thick.
“What’s wrong with you two?” Riley backed out of the car and grabbed the first aid kit, completely out of her depth.
Sam cleared his throat, “We’re sick… but – we were working.”
“What the hell kind of work are you guys doing?” she demanded.
Sam coughed again, “It got ugly.”
“No, shit!” Riley announced, “Sam, I can’t help with this. You need a hospital.”
“We can’t -,” Sam’s voice caught, “We can’t go to a hospital.”
“I don’t have the equipment to deal with this!”
“We do,” Sam took a shuddering breath, “We do. I need you to go to the trunk. There’s a panel in the bottom, lift it up, grab the blanket and the little duffle.”
Riley straightened, taking a deep breath, “Okay, okay…”
Her hands were shaking as she opened the trunk, she searched along the edge for the panel Sam was talking about and pulled it up.
“Holy shit.”
“Riley?” Sam called weakly.
“Coming, hang on,” she grabbed the blanket and the bag and shut the trunk, hurrying round to Sam.
“I can help you with Dean, but my leg is still bleeding. I need you to cut the blanket, give me a strip to tie around my leg.”
“Okay.”
Riley did what Sam said, stealing glances into the back seat at Dean’s lifeless form.
“He’ll be okay,” Sam’s gruff voice came from above her.
Riley sighed and helped Sam secure the length of fabric to his thigh, “He better be.”
Riley stared at Dean again, “Is that... a bullet wound?”
“Yes,” Sam answered, quickly, shuffling around on the seat, “But the bullet is still in there, which is good for now. It’s not bleeding too badly. It’s not that I’m worried about.”
“Sam, where you going?” Riley watched Sam fumbling for the door handle, “Can you even walk?”
“We’ll find out,” he mumbled, pushing his door open.
Riley got out and hurried round to the driver’s side, in time to catch Sam as he tried to stand.
“Stop, okay? We’re going to my car. I’ll come back and get Dean.”
“You can’t carry him,” Sam moaned, head lolling forward.
“I won’t have to. Come on.”
Sam was worse than she thought. He’d clearly lost a lot of blood, and was having a hard time even holding his head up. He winced with every step, and already the blanket strapped to his leg was turning red. Sam started coughing and it almost threw him off balance completely.
“That sounds really bad,” Riley winced, adjusting Sam’s arm over her shoulders.
“Feels worse,” he groaned.
Riley leaned Sam against the car and opened the passenger door.
“You okay from here? I’m gonna go get Dean.”
“Yeah,” Sam was panting, but already starting to pull himself into the car, “If you need help…”
Riley sighed, “There’s water in the glove box. Start drinking.”
All she could think about was Dean. His ashen face, pale in the moonlight, lips purple, his breathing weak, shallow, wheezing. He looked dead, and it shook her to her core. All that got her by without him was knowing that somewhere in America, somewhere out there in that big muscle car, Dean was okay. Tearing it up.
Five text messages. Five. In two years. That was it… but at least it was something. At least she knew he was okay. But this…
“Dean? Babe? Open your eyes, come on.”
Riley was sitting on him again, tapping his face. Dean moaned.
“Hey! Tiger, wake up,” she forced a smile, tears in her eyes, “Come on, hotshot.”
Dean groaned again but didn’t open his eyes, “Riley?”
Riley felt tears run down her cheeks, and laughed, “Yes. Dean, it’s me. I need you to do me a favour.”
Dean coughed and Riley dragged him further forward so he was more upright.
“’M really tired…”
“I know, babe. I know you are. But listen to me, I gotta get you to my car. Your brother’s waiting and he’s hurt bad. We gotta go, okay?”
Dean’s brow furrowed, “Sammy?”
“He’s bleeding a lot. We gotta go.”
“Said he was… fine,” Dean was choking on his words, so out of breath he couldn’t make it through a short sentence.
“Dean? Dean, focus on me. Focus.”
Dean’s weight slumped forward onto her.
“Dean! Dean, get up! Sam needs you!”
“Sam…” Dean moaned but he still wasn’t holding any of his own weight.
“Sam needs you to get up, okay?” Riley insisted, shaking him a little, which elicited a small groan. “I’ll help you, come on.”
Riley hopped out and round to the other side, the side Dean was leaning against. She opened the door and had to brace Dean with a hand or he would have fallen out.
“Come on, Dean. Sam’s waiting.”
Dean couldn’t stand. Could barely walk. He was hunched right over, sucking in breaths like he was breathing through a straw. She kept him between her and the impala to keep him upright and then slung his right arm over her shoulders and gripped his waist hard, hoisting him up against her.
“Just a few feet to the car. Can you make it that far?”
Dean squinted ahead, then dropped his head again, a small nod came after.
“Okay, let’s go.”
When they got to her car she held him against it while she got the back door open. He sunk down, legs giving way beneath him.
“Hey, not yet. Almost there,” she ordered, shoving him into the back seat.
Dean barely complied, and by this point his wheezing was so loud, his breathing fast and shallow. He slumped over across the back seat and started gasping.
“Sam?” Riley called for help, as Dean’s colour rapidly greyed.
Sam had passed out in the front seat but roused when she called him.
“Sam, he’s not getting enough air! What do I do?” she panicked, clinging to Dean’s shirt.
Sam’s voice was weak but authoritative. It made her calm a little.
“Sit him up.”
Riley was already squeezed into the back seat over Dean, so she grabbed his shoulder’s, a small whimper passing his lips, and pulled, using her whole body weight to lift him up to a sitting position.
“Lean him forward. Put his hands on the back of my seat.”
Riley whispered to Dean as she manhandled him, “Dean, you gotta hold onto the chair. Sammy’s gonna help you but you need to stay like this. I know you’re tired, but it’s not over yet.”
Dean groaned and that could be the best she could hope for an answer at this point.
Sam had one hand reaching back, holding onto his brother’s wrist. But even being upright for a few seconds Dean had stopped panicking, and his colour had improved already.
“Sam, I’m gonna lock up the car. Is there anything else you need from it tonight?”
Sam’s brow tightened and she could tell what a struggle it was for him to think right now.
“Our duffels, in the back... Just our duffels.”
“Okay, back in a tick.”
Riley wiped the sweat and tears from her face as she rushed towards the impala. She pulled the keys from the ignition and made sure all the doors were locked before she headed back to her car with Sam and Dean’s bags over her shoulders. They were heavy, and the clinking of metal and glass made the bags rattle suspiciously. She threw them in the trunk and slid into the driver’s seat, glancing over at the sweaty, blood soaked men in her car, both of whom were breathing far too laboured for her liking.
“Sam, you’re gonna have to give me a hell of a good reason as to why I can’t take you straight to a hospital,” she demanded, relieved to see that the bleeding on Sam’s leg seemed to have stopped.
“Can I… ask you to trust me?” Sam replied, while letting his head loll back against the seat.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Dean can’t breathe . So you’re gonna have to do more than that.”
Despite Riley’s arguing, she had started the car and u-turned, heading back down the highway towards Greenville.
Sam coughed and cleared his throat, still gripping his brother’s wrist, “We have no insurance and no money. Dean has a bullet wound. And we’re both wanted men. That good enough?”
Riley could have burst into tears right then and there but she wasn’t about to. She had more sense than that.
“Okay. I’ll take you to my house but we have to stop off somewhere first and get supplies. And I’ll need to call my sister. She’s and emergency nurse, works in search and rescue in Colorado. She can tell me what to do.”
“Can you trust her?” Sam replied in a small voice, the worry evident.
“You don’t really have another choice right now,” Riley snapped, “Can you reach my phone in my bag? Get it and call Jayde.”
Sam leaned forward and searched Riley’s bag, letting loose a wet cough into the back of his wrist, “Got it,” he mumbled, straightening back up.
Riley couldn’t see him moving and glanced over to see him with his head back and eyes clamped shut, breathing through pursed lips, face whiter than before.
“You okay?”
“Just… dizzy. ‘M okay.”
Riley chewed the inside of her lip, but saw Sam begin to scroll through her contacts. Sam put the phone on speaker and held it up towards Riley.
“Riley? You okay? It’s 3am,” her sister had obviously been sleeping.
“Hey little sis. Sorry for the late night call but I kind of have a medical emergency here. I need your help.”
“What?” Jayde sounded suddenly awake and alert, “Are you okay?”
“It’s not me. Some friends of mine. I just picked them up. They’ve been in some kind of fight, they’re wounded and sick and not breathing right. I don’t know –“
“Okay, sis, you need to get them to the nearest hospital right now -“
“I know. I know,” Riley cut her off mid lecture, “But we can’t. You… you gotta trust me.”
“What? No. If this is serious they need - “
“Jayde, please. It isn’t an option, trust me. I need to know what to do,” Riley begged.
Jayde sighed on the other end, “Okay... tell me the situation. Start with whoever’s worse.”
“Okay. Dean is really struggling to breathe. He’s got a bad cough but he’s not really coughing anymore. It’s like he’s too tired.”
“How old is Dean? Does he have asthma? Chronic airway disease?”
“Dean’s my age. Sam, he doesn’t have asthma or lung problems, does he?”
Sam shook his head, clearly running out of energy to speak as well.
“No, he’s just sick. Sam said they both got the same thing.”
“Whatever it is. It sounds bad... Can he talk to you or is he too focused on breathing?”
“No, he can’t talk.”
“ Okay, how quickly is he breathing? Deep or shallow?”
“Really fast and shallow. He sounds really wheezy, and like he’s gasping for air.”
“Kay, he needs a bronchodilator. That’s your first priority is his breathing. What position have you got him in?”
“He’s in the back seat, leaning forward on Sam’s chair.”
“Good, keep him forward. If he doesn’t have the energy to hold himself up you have to get him leaning forward or he will go into respiratory arrest. He sounds like he’s bordering on it already. Is he bringing anything up when he coughs?”
“Sam?” Riley prompted.
“Uh, yeah. We’re both bringing up a lot.”
“What colour is it?”
“Like dark green?”
“Brown…” came a squeaky exhale from the back seat. “Brown?” Sam asked, glancing back, but Dean didn’t say anything else.
“Right, uh… okay. What else is wrong with him?”
“Bullet wound, left shoulder.”
She stuttered on the other end, “He’s been shot?”
“Yes. The bullet’s still in there.”
“How far up on his shoulder? Riley, if the wound is anywhere near his lungs -“
“It’s not. It’s just below his collarbone.”
“Bleeding?”
“His shirt is soaked on that side but it’s not bleeding now.”
“Have you got pressure on it?”
“Only got two hands, sis.”
“Right. Don’t worry about it for the moment. He got a fever?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s burning up, pulse was really quick too.”
“Dammit. This is -“
“Just tell me what to do,” Riley cut her off again. She didn’t need to be told how bad this was. She could see it with her own eyes. What she needed was help.
“If you can’t take him to a hospital you gotta get to a pharmacy. A big one.”
“On my way there now.”
“Okay, tell me about Sam.”
“Sam’s bleeding.”
“What? How badly?”
“Pretty badly. He’d lost a lot when I got to him.”
“Where’s the wound, how big and how deep?”
“On his right thigh, about 10 inches long. I can’t see how deep.”
“On the inside or outside.”
“Outside.”
“Good. Have you got pressure on it?”
“Yeah, we tied a blanket around. It’s slowed heaps down since we did that.”
“Okay, there’s still a small chance he’s nicked his femoral artery. You’re in shit if that’s happened and he will die if you don’t take him to a hospital. The blanket you’ve tied around might be cutting off blood supply to his leg, which is good for the blood loss, but he could lose that leg if you make it too tight or leave it on too long. Is Sam able to talk?”
“Yeah -“ Sam moaned, proving he had been listening.
“Sam, when it was bleeding, was it oozing or pulsating out?”
“It’s just oozing. It’s not too bad.”
“You’re slurring your speech, big shot.”
“I’ve had worse. I can stitch it myself -“ Sam broke off into a long, coarse cough.
“Well, that answers that,” she said, “Riley, I’m gonna make a list of supplies you’ll need to get. But I cannot guarantee that it will be enough to keep them alive. And these boys have pneumonia or bronchitis. They need hardcore antibiotics. That’s prescription only.”
“You’re a nurse practitioner, can’t you prescribe them some?”
“I’m not supposed to prescribe out of my state -“
“Please, sis. We have no other option.”
She sighed, “Okay, okay. Which pharmacy are you going to? I’ll call ahead and do a phone order. I’ll get them to put everything aside for you. Some of these things are hundreds of dollars each though. It’ll be one heck of a bill.”
“That’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”
Sam shot her a look.
“I got this, alright?” She snapped.
“Riley, the first thing you do is give Dean ventolin through a spacer. Start with four puffs but go up to twelve if you have to. A minute apart. I want you to get a high flow humidifier, put it on him as soon as you get home. If he goes into respiratory arrest you need to call an ambulance and to hell with everything else.”
“I know. How do I know if he arrests?”
“He’ll stop breathing. ”
Riley swallowed, “Okay.”
“I wish you’d reconsider this. I can hear Dean breathing and it’s not good. Is he going blue yet?”
Sam turned around to assess his brother, “Dean? You good?”
Dean gasped in, “Just… catchin’... my breath,” he rasped.
“He’s okay,” Sam said, more like he was trying to convince himself. “He’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, these guys would say they were okay if they were on fire. I’ll find you a big 24 hour pharmacy. Where are you right now?”
“Highway 85, headed into Greenville.”
“Keep your phone on you. I’ll call you right back.”
“Thanks, honey.”
“Keep a really close eye on them.”
“I will.”