Summary:  On a routine coffee run, Sam saves a cop, but will he pay the price for his selfless act?
Warnings:  Violence, blood, drama…
A/N:  Not every evil is Supernatural challenge… Title is from the song by Default.
Disclaimer:  I don’t own Supernatural or any of its characters, though I do own Aleshia Davenport, and the plot…. But I make no money from any of this… I only feed my insatiable muse…

“I’m gonna go get some coffee, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Sam called out to his brother, who was in the shower. He heard a mumbled answer, and took it as a positive, walking out the door.

As he walked down the sidewalk towards the convenience store, Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets, shivering in the cold, and was glad he had decided to wear his Carhartt. He was glad to just be able to get out and get some fresh air, after having been cooped up in the Impala, and then the rundown motel for the past two days. Sam was just glad for the chance to stretch his long legs and get the kinks out, and to get away from his brother, even if it was only for a few minutes, because the older man was wearing on his last patience.

Sam started out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of gunshots coming from a few blocks down from where he was, and he took off running towards the sound, not even hesitating in the thought that it might be dangerous to do so. When he reached the street where the shots had been fired, he found himself watching a woman dressed in a police uniform, patting down a suspect, with a gun on the ground just a few feet away from them, and figured the woman must have had the situation under control.

Sam was just about to walk away, when he saw another man coming up behind the cop, who was oblivious to the approaching danger. Sam was going to call out a warning to her, but figured better of it when he saw the man didn’t know he was there, and started coming up behind the man. When the man pulled a gun, Sam didn’t hesitate, and took off towards the man and the cop, who hearing the footsteps had started to turn around, but she wasn’t going to be able to get out the way fast enough, and Sam took his chance, tackling the man headless of the gun.

The man had just gotten off a shot when Sam tackled him, and Sam gasped as he felt the searing pain of a bullet wound pierce into his abdomen. He suppressed the pain, bent on getting the gun away from the man, the woman, who had cuffed the other subject to a metal drain pipe, getting down to help him. Working together they had the man in cuffs in no time, and the woman took the two men to her squad car, shoving them hard into the back seat, before coming back to thank him.

Sam hadn’t gotten back up, instead staying on his knees to keep from passing out. He held one hand over his now red dampened stomach, and the other one searched for his cell phone. He pulled the phone free, and hit the first speed dial, praying that Dean was out of the shower by now and would answer the phone.

He heard the woman coming up behind him, but with his concentration already waning away from the situation he was in now, Sam didn’t pay any attention to her. Sam heard the phone ring, and could vaguely hear the woman behind him saying thanks, and when he didn’t respond to her, he felt the woman put her hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at her.

The cop dropped to her knees beside him, and Sam turned to look at her as she studied him, looking for any indication of what was wrong with him. Sam lifted the hand off his stomach to show her the blood and let her see what had happened and she gasped, just as he heard Dean answer the phone.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, and when Sam didn’t answer him right away, Dean’s panicked. “Sammy, what’s wrong?”

“I screwed up, Dean,” Sam’s voice was low as he said the words, and Dean could tell he was hurt just from the tone.

“What is it Sammy? Where are you?” Dean asked, the questions laced with worry.

“I’m in the middle of Cove Alley, and I really screwed up Dean,” Sam’s voice was barely audible as he turned to lie down on his back, dizziness taking over, and he groaned in pain as the cop pressed in on his wound to try and stop the bleeding as his fingers released the wound, making blood bubble out of the hole in his stomach.

“I don’t think I’m getting out of this one,” Sam slurred and Dean felt his heart stop.

“Sammy, I’ll be there in a minute, just hold on a little longer for me, okay?” Sam let his fingers go lax around the phone, and he felt the woman next to him pick it up from his unresisting fingers.

Aleshia Davenport pressed harder into Sam’s stomach, grabbing her two way from her pocket, and calling in for an ambulance for a GSW, and then she grabbed the phone from the man lying in front of her, to talk to who must have been a relative, Dean as the man had called him.

“Hello?” She asked quietly, pinning the phone between her ear and her shoulder, so she could use both hands to put pressure on the man’s wound.

“Who are you? What are you doing with my brother?” The questions shot out faster than she would have expected, but Aleshia answered them non-the less.

“My name is Aleshia Davenport, and I’m a cop. I was arresting a man when another one came up behind me with a gun and this man saved me. He was shot in the stomach while wrestling the gun away from the man who was going to shoot me, so I’m trying to stop the blood.” Aleshia said, feeling foolish for taking the time to explain herself. “Is there anything you can tell me about the man? Medical wise anyway?” She asked, trying to get as much information about the man lying before her, before the ambulance showed up.

“His name is Samuel Dansforth, and he’s my brother. He’s twenty three, has AB negative blood and he is allergic to penicillin,” Dean said, trying to stay calm as he pressed harder on the gas pedal, to get to Sam faster. What the hell was wrong with his brother? Everything bad always happened to him, he was like a beacon for anything dangerous to come after, even if it wasn’t Supernatural. I mean on a routine coffee run, the idiot had gotten himself shot!

“Sam?” Aleshia asked as the man in front of her started to close his eyes. “Sam? Common I need you to stay with me, just stay awake for me.” Aleshia’s voice was persistent, yet soothing, and she could see the man was trying to follow her orders, though it wasn’t working out very good for him.

“M’tired,” Sam groaned at her, and the frown on her lips deepened. “S’cold,” his voice was slurred and little more than a whisper, and she knew he was going into shock.

“I know honey, just try to stay with me, and we’ll have you warmed up and in a nice bed in no time.” Aleshia hoped she was right about what she was telling him. She heard the low rumble of an engine and looked up to see a man walking toward her, cell phone in hand. When the man saw Sam he took off at a run towards them. “Dean?” She asked as the strangled settled across from her on Sam’s other side.

“Yeah,” he said, not really paying attention to her, instead he was trying to take stock of Sam. He definitely saw the wound, and she watched him pale as he stared at it, and then he was taking one of Sam’s limp hands in his own, and brushing dampened brown bangs off his brother’s face.

Sam started to choke, blood coming up into his throat and Dean paled even further, moving to put his knees behind Sam’s head, to elevate it, and then turning his head so Sam could get the blood out without choking. “Dammit, Sammy!” Dean whispered, still brushing his brother’s bangs away from his face. “Where the hell is the ambulance?” Dean asked looking straight at her, knowing that his baby brother was dying.

“The hospital is on the other side of the city, though it has been almost ten minutes, so it should be here soon.” Aleshia answered and no sooner had she spoken that they heard sirens coming in their direction. Dean smiled at her, and then looked down to Sam, and if it was possible, paled even further.

Sam wasn’t breathing…

Sam wasn’t breathing...

Dean checked for a pulse, and finding none, he immediately laid Sam down on the ground and tilted his brother’s head back to clear his airway. Pinching off his nose, Dean blew two breaths into his brother’s mouth and proceeded to do compressions on his chest. Dean checked for a pulse on again and when he found none, he repeated his motions.

Two breaths...

‘Common Sammy, don’t do this to me bro, hang on!’

10 compressions...

‘You better breathe you stubborn bastard!’

Check...

‘I just lost dad, I can’t lose you too.’

There was a pulse on the third set of compressions, and when Dean checked Sam was breathing again, albeit shallowly, but he was breathing. Dean’s joy turned to anger as he felt rough hands pull him away from his brother, and he fought against the person pulling him away from Sammy. He looked up to see Aleshia also backing away from Sam, and finally ceased his fighting when he saw that the hands holding him back were that of an EMT’s.

When the hands let him go, Dean went around Sam, to Aleshia’s side, so he could at least see what the medics were doing to his brother. Strong calloused hands had replaced Aleshia’s small ones, putting pressure on the wound, and the hands kept a firm hold even as Sam was turned on his side and a backboard was placed underneath him.

An oxygen mask was placed over Sam’s nose and mouth, and a multiple port IV was inserted into the back of his limp hand, as the EMT’s finished securing him to the backboard. Sam was lifted into the air, and three men carried him towards an ambulance that waited at the end of the alley. As Sam was loaded into the back of the ambulance, Dean was told to follow them his car, to give the medics room to work in case anything... unfortunate happened on the way to the hospital.

Dean hesitantly nodded, especially when he heard their choice of words, and went to the Impala as the doors to the ambulance closed and Sammy was out of his sight.

Barely managing to maintain the speed limit as he followed, Dean wondered to himself just what the hell Sam had been thinking pulling a stunt like he had. Sam had always drawn danger, both supernatural and otherwise, mostly do to his selfless and naive nature. He hadn’t even had a gun on him, and yet he had gone after a man that had been armed, and angry, a combination that was never good. Yet the idiot had done it anyway, and he had gotten himself shot in the process.

When Sammy was healthy, Dean was going to kick his ass for pulling something so stupid!

As it was, at the moment worry overshadowed the anger he felt towards Sam, and as he got out of the car in the hospital parking lot, Dean couldn’t help but think, ‘What if Sammy dies?’

Pushing his thoughts and his fear back, Dean jogged to the doors, and walked through the hall to the emergency room, intent on finding his brother, or at least getting some news on what was happening to him.

Dean walked up to the desk, and when the nurse looked up at him he asked, “Samuel Dansforth was just brought in with a gunshot wound to his abdomen, can you tell me where he is?”

The graying nurse looked at him apologetically, “I’m sorry sir, there’s no one allowed in while the doctors are working, you’ll have to take a seat over there,” she said pointing to what he supposed was a waiting area, but was nothing more than four ratty chairs around a table heaped with magazines.

“Look you gotta understand, he’s my little brother, I can’t just leave him in there alone.” Dean took on a pleading tone, and tried his hand at the puppy eyes Sam seamed to have perfected.

“I’m sorry sir, but there’s nothing I can do, you’ll have to wait.” He looked at her, a defeated sheen in his eyes, and she softened her tone. “Look when I know more about your brother, I’ll be sure to tell you, but right now there is nothing to do but wait, and hope everything turns out okay.” Dean nodded, and she smiled. “Good. Can you take these forms and fill them out for your brother please?” She asked, and Dean once more nodded, face still solemn. “I promise, I’ll tell you when I hear anything,” she whispered gently, and Dean quirked a little smile for her.

“Thanks.” Dean walked over to the chairs and sat down in the one closest to the wall, filling out the forms, the nurse had given him. By the time he got to the third page Dean was beyond frustrated. ‘What the hell could braking an arm have to do with being shot in the stomach?’ He asked himself, but filled out the answer anyway.

A little over an hour, and a frustrated Dean later...

Hearing footsteps, Dean looked up to see the nurse he had talked to earlier walk up to him. He immediately got to his feet, and the older woman gave him a small smile. “Your brother is being prepped for surgery, and the doctors said you could see him for a few minutes if you’d like.”

Dean frowned at the word surgery, and the woman explained. “The bullet hit his spleen, and the doctors want to go in and either save it, or take it out, depending on how bad the damage is.” Her voice was gentle, soothing even, but Dean couldn’t help the worry that settled in his chest.

“Yeah, where is he?” Dean asked, answering her initial question, anxious to see his brother.

“He’s just down the hall, and don’t worry about the respirator, its only in place to take pressure off of his overtaxed system, to make the surgery and the recovery after that easier on him.” Dean nodded and swallowed, he didn’t want to see Sam with a tube down his throat... The thought of Sam not breathing, or being hurt that bad, scared him more than he would have liked.

Dean followed the nurse down the hall to where Sam was, and walked quietly into the room. He had to hold back a gasp when he finally got a good look at his brother. Sam was pale, his skin tone just about matching the white of the hospital sheets that surrounded his frail looking body.

Though the nurse said to ignore it, Dean couldn’t help but be drawn the transparent tubing that had been threaded down Sam’s throat, the machine attached to it, making a click and whoosh in a set pattern. Every click and whoosh matching the rise and fall of Sam’s chest as the machine breathed for him.

“Aw Sammy,” the words left Dean’s lips unconsciously as he walked over to stand beside his brother, his hand automatically interlacing with Sam’s own; mindful of the piggy-backed IV’s feeding blood and hydrating Sam. Dean’s other hand brushed through Sam’s hair soothingly, and Dean didn’t know if he was doing to sooth Sam, or to sooth himself.

“Sammy, you know you’re an idiot right?” Dean told his unresponsive sibling. “But you’re an idiot that I need right now in my life, so just fight for me,” he took a breath and in a small voice added, “okay?” Dean continued to stroke Sam’s hair, his hand never leaving Sam’s, just content to be there with him, to make sure that he was alive, and that he could pull through the surgery ahead of him.

All too soon Dean heard the door to the room open, and he looked up to find a team of surgeons and nurses looking at him. Dean leaned over, and whisper; “you fight, yah hear me?” Regretfully he pulled away from his brother, and with one last reassuring squeeze of his hand, Dean let go of Sammy, and let the pity filled team take his brother to surgery.

‘You better pull through this Sammy,’ Dean thought to himself, trying to deal with the doubt that still lingered in his mind.

Dean had been pacing the hospital lobby for the past three hours, waiting for any information on Sam. His stress levels had been raised to high, and he had snapped at anyone who had tried to talk to him since Sam had gone into surgery, including a little kid, who couldn’t have been more than six, who had just kept bugging and bugging, until finally Dean had snapped and made the poor little boy cry.

The mother of the little boy didn’t seem all that angry about what Dean had said, probably understanding that the little boy had been asking for it, but she hadn’t let the little boy over to see Dean since then, and Dean didn’t know if he was happy or sad about that.

The kid had reminded him so much of Sam when he was younger, and at first he had been okay with the little bugger being near him. But then he had just started nit picking, and he asked so many questions, that Dean wouldn't have been able to hold his temper, even if he had wanted to.

Dean continued to pace, ignoring the stares and the concern of the staff members, all his attention focused on Sammy. His stubborn little brother had better be fighting, cause right now Dean couldn't handle losing the last remaining member of his family.

He couldn't understand why everything bad had always happened to Sam, even when they were younger, Sam was always the one either ending up in the hospital, or unconscious on bed rest when a hunt had gone wrong. Dean had always been the one left worrying in the waiting room, or sitting by Sam’s bed, and praying that his little brother would be alright.

Dean was pulled from his musings, when the weight of a hand settled on his shoulder, and he looked up to find himself facing one of the surgeons that had come to take Sam away for surgery. Dean was immediately at attention, focusing solely on the man that stood before him, needing to find out about Sam.

“Dean Dansforth?” The man asked, and when Dean nodded, he continued. “Your brother is doing good considering the amount of blood he lost, and the fact that we had to remove his spleen. We are keeping him in ICU for a few days, just to make sure that we can really keep an eye on his recovery, and then he will be moved to CMR for a few days if there are no unexpected complications.”

“So Sammy’s gonna be okay?” Dean asked, barely willing to let his hope rise.

“Well right now his body is really weak, and his blood pressure is a little on the low side, so he won’t be up to doing a lot for a little while. Also with the removal of his spleen, Sam will be more prone to infections and fevers than he was before, and you really need to keep an eye on that. If he develops a fever you need to tell one of the nurses right away. For the next few weeks he will also be in a lot of pain, but I will give you a prescription that will help with that.” When Dean once again nodded, the man gave him a tentative smile. “But yes, Sam should be fine, if he is allowed time to heal properly. He is young and healthy, and those facts alone, gave him the strength he needed to make it through surgery, and the fact that you are here to support him, should help him through his recovery.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Sam would be okay. Albeit, he would be prone to infections; just one more thing Dean needed to worry about; but the younger Winchester would be okay. “Can I see him?” Dean asked, his voice hopeful.

“He is being moved to a room right now, and once he is settled, you can see him.” Dean smiled, and nodded. “If you want I can show to the room he will be in, and you can wait in the room for him.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Dean’s answer was automatic, his mind distracted by just the fact that Sammy would be okay. His relief was palpable, as he followed the surgeon to his brother’s room.

“Okay, if you have any questions, my name is Doctor Riley Sumner, just ask one of the nurses at the nurses station to page me, and I will get back to you as soon as I can.” Dean nodded in understanding, and walked into the room, after saying goodbye, and telling the man thanks for saving his little brother’s life.

He had only been in the room for a couple minutes, when Sam was wheeled in, and he moved to stand outside the door, while Sam was being settled. When the nurses left he walked back in and took a good look at his brother.

Sam was pale, but he had gained a little bit of color since being at the hospital, and for that Dean was glad. There was a nasal canula positioned under his nose, to help him get oxygen, and a piggy backed IV was in his left hand. One line fed him blood, and the other line kept him hydrated, fed him antibiotics to ward off infection, and kept him medicated for pain.

Dean pulled a chair up next to his brother’s bed and sat down, taking his brother’s hand in his own. The warmth in Sam’s hand made him feel a little better, and he unknowingly started rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on the back of Sam’s hand. He just needed to know that Sam was really here, that he would be alright, granted it was going to take a little while for him to be completely alright, but at least he was going to be in the end.

Dean was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the woman standing at the door until she knocked. Dean looked up to find himself looking at Aleshia Davenport. He nodded at her to come in the room, and she walked over to stand on the other side of Sam, just looking at him for a few minutes.

"He saved my life," she whispered. Dean's head shot up at the unexpected proclamation. “He could have just left, but he saved me.” The woman looked lost as she spoke, and Dean found himself wondering what he should do.

“Yeah well, Sammy’s always doing things like that. Figures he’s made out of steel or something.” She laughed at his description, but it turned into more of a sob. “He’s gonna be okay, the doctor said that without any complications, he would be okay; and Sammy is one stubborn bastard, so I have no doubt he will be okay.” Dean didn’t know if he was trying to convince Aleshia, or himself; as he found himself doubting his own words.

“I just wanted to thank him for what he did, and give him this,” she held out her hand to him, and when he reached out she dropped something into it. “It’s supposed to protect the wearer,” she said and walked towards the door, when she reached the doorway she turned around, and whispered, “tell him I said thank you.”

Dean nodded and looked at the necklace in his hand. The pendant was the Celtic symbol for protection, made from sterling silver, and when he turned it over, he found script on the sides. The words, “contego,” “patrocinor,” and “defendo,” were engraved in the metal.

Dean laughed as he looked at the necklace, Aleshia didn’t know just how much this little pendant would help Sam. It was a rare necklace, the combination of Celtic symbols and Latin protection words would create a strong shield around the wearer, not letting anything, but the strongest evils break through. With Sam’s luck, the pendant would be put into good use often.

Dean sighed and looked back to Sam, the only thing that would make this moment better would be for Sam to wake up…

“Sam?”

The incessant voice wouldn’t leave him alone, as he faded through the recesses of the darkness that infiltrated his consciousness. He had been comfortable, as he had floated through the void that filled him; there was nothing to hurt him, nothing to annoy him. He was just content to be there away from everyone, and the pain that he had felt just before he had fallen into his comforting darkness.

“Sammy c’mon little brother, open them eyes,”

As the voice got louder and Sam could understand it more, the pain came back to him, pounding and slicing through his nerves. The closer he got to the voice, the more pain he was in, and Sam just wanted to run away; but he felt a pull towards the voice… The voice of his brother… Dean’s voice.

Sam groaned and tried to move, tried to pry his eyes open.

“That’s it little brother, open them eyes, you stubborn little shit.”

Sam smirked, his eyes still closed, but he heard Dean laugh. Finally opening eyes that felt as if they were glued shut. His vision was blurred, and Sam reached his hand up to clear his eyes, finding the tubes in the back of his hand getting caught in the sheets, he raised the other hand.

Sam closed his eyes, and blinked them open once again, finding himself face to face with a very worried, and angry older brother. Oh shit… He was in it deep this time. Sam tried pushing himself into a sitting position, groaning as he felt the pain in his stomach make itself known.

“Easy Sammy,” Dean whispered as he put one hand on Sam’s upper back, and the other one on his chest. Dean helped him sit up, his movements and grip were gentle, clearly worrying about Sam. When Sam was settled, they stayed that way for a little while, before Dean reached his hand up and lightly smacked Sam on the head. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Sam looked up at him, his mouth gaping open in a good imitation of a fish. "I don't know Dean, I was thinking that maybe she wanted to live," the sarcastic tone in his voice made Dean want to beat the shit out of him.

"You're joking about this?" Dean asked incredulously, "you're joking about almost getting yourself killed.” Dean turned away and walked to the door, his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide.

He stood there a few moments, and when he turned around, his eyes were hard. “Did you think you were Superman, made out of fucking steel? That you could just walk in front of a bullet and not get hurt?” The growl in Dean’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by either of them, and Sam felt his own anger rising.

“I didn’t walk in front of a bullet Dean, I fought for a gun with a man who was going to shoot an innocent woman, and the bastard shot me, okay?” The anger was wiped away from Dean face, and just like that Sam felt his anger fade.

“Did you think about yourself, Sam? Did you think that you could die? Did you ever stop to think, that maybe I couldn’t lose the last person in my family?” The tears in Dean’s eyes were something that Sam hadn’t expected, something that Sam hadn’t seen since he was little.

“No Dean, I didn’t and I’m sorry. I thought about what it would do to you after I was shot, but I didn’t think about dying until it was too late and I was lying on the ground with a bullet in my stomach.” Sam thought for a minute, and then added, “Now that was dumb wasn’t it?” His voice was wistful and Dean snorted, wiping his eyes.

“Very.” Sam started to laugh, and groaned. Dean was back at his side in a second, “You okay little brother?” Dean’s voice and face were filled with concern, and if Sam wasn’t mistaken, his brother was hovering.

It took a few minutes for him to answer, but answer Sam did. “Cristo,” he whispered and Dean recoiled from him.

“What the hell was that for, Bitch?” Dean asked, angry and just a tad bit confused.

“Oh thank god, I thought you were possessed there for a minute. I mean because my brother doesn’t start chick-flick moments.” Sam smirked.

“Yeah well… Your brother usually doesn’t have to deal with his little brother being dumb enough to get himself shot.” Dean shot back.

They sat there for a while in comfortable silence, before Sam finally spoke up. “So what happened after I passed out?”

“Well little brother, after you passed out, you had to have surgery, and sorry to say it little brother, but you are now spleen-less.” Dean waited for it to sink in, and with a nod from Sam, he continued. “So the doctor said that you would be in pain for a few weeks, and that you would be prone to more infections, but other than that you should be okay. Oh, and that woman you saved stopped by, he name is Aleshia Davenport by the way, and she left this for you.” Dean held the pendant out to Sam, who took it, and studied it.

“You’re kidding right? Does she know the power this thing holds?” Sam asked, staring down at the Celtic protection pendant.

“I don’t think so, but she said she wanted you to have it. And with your luck little brother, it will come in handy.” Dean smirked, and Sam growled.

“You ass,”

“Bitch,”

“Jerk,”

“Dumbass,”

“Pansy-ass,”

“Now, that was uncalled for.”

‘Because you know that life ain't over yet
I'm here for you so don't forget
You can count on me
Cause’ I will carry you till you carry on
Anytime you need someone
Somebody strong to lean on
Well you can count on me to hold you till the healing is done
And every time you fall apart you can hide here in my arms
And you can count on me to hold you till that feeling is
Gone so you can live today
Seems so long to yesterday
Keep on counting on me to carry you till you carry on
Carry on’

A/N:  So what did yah’all think? My little one-shot turned into four chapters. By the way I don’t own Default, or their works. So no suing…
Sorry again for the long wait, and thanks for the support.
Take care and until we meet again
OSS