Good Samaritans - AKA: Look, I wrote a fic!
Title: Good Samaritans
Characters: Dean, Sam, OFC, OMC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,750
Summary: Outsider POV. Ahead of them, a vehicle sprawled across their lane. The black tire treads burned into the pavement painted the car's erratic path from the opposite lane. The front of the car wrapped around a sturdy tree trunk, the hood warped and crumpled. Smoke billowed around the twisted metal and flames licked here and there.
AN1: Written for a prompt from the hoodie_time A Dean-focused hurt/comfort comment fic & art meme (from almost 2 years ago *shameface*) in which honeylocusttree requested, "Outsider POV. A car is on fire at the side of the road. Dean is behind the wheel, unconscious. Gen, please." Happy to oblige you, hon. Sorry you had to wait so long!
AN2: Set in Season 7 during the Leviathan scare when Dean and Sam had to ditch the Impala and go deeper into hiding.
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Evelyn shifted in the passenger seat, trying to find relief for her traitorous body. The long drive was certainly taking its toll on her, but she wouldn't allow herself the luxury of complaining. Nick worried so much already; she didn't want to give him further cause.
Nick's eyes slid in her direction long enough for her to see the concern shining there. Damn. Of course, she shouldn't be surprised that he'd noticed. He rarely missed anything these days. She found his constant scrutiny to be both comforting and annoying, but she would never dream of criticizing him for it. Evelyn placed a reassuring hand on his knee, squeezing gently before placing it back in her own lap.
"I could pull over at a gas station or a restaurant... let you rest for a bit. Might do you some good to stretch your legs, Evy," Nick offered.
She shook her head, knowing he caught the movement from the corner of his eye.
"Do you need your medicine?" She hated that overly-careful tone in his voice. Hated that he used it so often these days. Hated that he had reason to.
She sighed, sounding much more tired than she'd intended. "I'm fine. Just ready to be home."
Nick nodded, not pressing the issue.
Evelyn focused her attention back to the view out her window. "It's so beautiful this time of year," she said. Nick nodded again, silently agreeing with her statement as well as acknowledging her attempt to distract him from worrying over her.
She continued watching the landscape slowly changing, becoming more and more familiar as their faithful Taurus carried them home. They'd been away for a few days, visiting their oldest daughter. Evelyn couldn't pass up the opportunity to hold her grandkids one more time. She wished, not for the first time, that her family lived closer to home. While she'd enjoyed the visit, Evelyn just hadn't anticipated how difficult the trip would be this time. Still, she hated to think that this would be the last…
Evelyn chastised herself for allowing her thoughts to travel down that road.
She felt Nick ease up on the gas and his focus intensify. Glancing up, she noted immediately what had put her husband on alert. Ahead of them, a vehicle sprawled across their lane. The black tire treads burned into the pavement painted the car's erratic path from the opposite lane. The front of the car wrapped around a sturdy tree trunk, the hood warped and crumpled. Smoke billowed around the twisted metal and flames licked here and there.
The driver slumped over the steering wheel.
Nick brought their car to a stop a few feet away, then fished his cell phone from his back pocket. She listened as he called 911, speculating to herself as to what could have happened to cause such a terrible crash.
All the pertinent information given, Nick snapped the phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket. His eyes met hers briefly in a request to stay in the car. She returned his glance with one that clearly indicated her intention to go with him. Nick concurred but asked her to stay put for just a moment longer. He left her sitting as he headed to the back of their car. She heard the trunk open and the sounds of things being moved around before the trunk slammed down. Nick walked to the other car, his emergency fire extinguisher in hand, and doused the flames.
Once he was sure the flames were extinguished, he came back to assist her from the car. Even after 38 years of marriage, he still insisted on opening her car door for her. Together, they made their way around to the wrecked driver's side door. Nick opened the door and knelt down to check the slumped man's pulse, calling, "Sir? Sir? Hey, are you okay?" His fingers came away coated in blood.
Evelyn couldn't help but exclaim, "Oh, dear Lord!"
The driver stirred and moaned. When he moved to lift his head, Nick placed his hand on the man's shoulder. "You should stay still. You hit your head pretty good. Help is on the way."
The man shook Nick off with a grunted "no". He pushed himself back against the headrest, moaning louder and clutching his gut. Blood stained his hands. "Can't stay. Gotta.... need Sammy." His words were a little slurred and he looked around as if confused.
Nick spoke gently. "Who's Sammy? We'll have him meet us at the hospital."
"No! No h'spit'l." With great effort, the man swung his legs around to the pavement and pulled himself to his feet. The activity seemed to clear his head, because the gaze he locked onto Nick was steady and focused. "No hospital. No cops. Only Sam. No one else can help."
He slumped a bit and the intensity fell from his face. He leaned heavily against the still-open door, his knuckles white from gripping the metal for support. He shifted his eyes to Evelyn, and the look she saw there broke her heart. "Please," he pleaded, "please help me."
In that moment, Evelyn knew she would help this stranger to the best of her abilities. She shared a look with Nick, long enough to reach a silent agreement, before responding, "What can we do?"
"Can't stay here. I need you to take me to Sammy. Fast."
Nick glanced at the wrecked vehicle. "What about your car?"
"Not mine. Kinda... borrowed. Piece of crap anyway."
"Alright then, let's get you to our car. Can you walk?"
The man responded by pushing himself away from the still-smoking vehicle and limping toward their waiting Taurus. The man insisted on hiding in the trunk, so Nick quickly made room by pushing pushed back the few items he stored there. They could hear sirens in the distance.
The man climbed into the trunk and shoved a cell phone at Nick, saying, "Call Sammy. He'll know what to do. And don't open this trunk, no matter what you hear."
Nick closed the trunk, his eyes twinkling with humor. When Evelyn questioned him, he simply said, "I always suspected this trunk would be big enough to hide a body. Guess now we know."
His chuckle drew a smile from Evelyn. She loved her husband's ability to find amusement in unexpected places.
Nick helped Evelyn settle into the passenger seat and passed her the stranger's cell phone, just as the emergency vehicles arrived. A police car pulled up with the ambulance and fire truck. Nick went over to speak with the officer. Though she couldn't hear the conversation, she could guess the story Nick chose to weave. He gestured to the wrecked car, then pointed down the road. She imagined that Nick was telling them about how they came upon the wreck, indicating that the driver fled the scene after they arrived.
Soon, the ambulance and fire engine pulled away. The officer took a few more notes, consulting Nick occasionally. Then he flipped the notebook closed and shook Nick's hand before returning to his vehicle and speaking into the radio.
Nick returned to his place behind the wheel, turned the ignition, and drove off. The officer raised a hand in farewell as they passed, so Evelyn waved back.
They traveled several miles in silence, the reality of their actions sinking in and leaving them feeling numb. Shouting and banging from the trunk jolted them back to the present and Evelyn remembered the stranger's cell phone that she still gripped tightly.
She fiddled with the buttons until she found a contact list and called the number listed as Sam. The line rang only once before picking up.
"Dean? Where the hell have you been?" The voice on the other line sounded worried and agitated, perhaps even a bit panicked.
"Is this Sammy?"
A beat of silence, then the voice answered more calmly, "Who is this? Where's Dean?"
Though he hadn't really answered her question, Evelyn knew this had to be the Sammy belonging to her mystery stranger. "My name is Evelyn. Dean was in a car accident."
"Oh, God! Is he okay?"
"He's banged up a bit. He asked us to call you."
"Okay. Where is he?"
"Well, sweetie, he's currently locked in our trunk."
"Uh, excuse me?"
"His idea, I assure you. We would never have put him there otherwise. He insisted it was safer."
"Dammit, Dean! I told you to wait for me!" Another pause. "Okay, describe his injuries. I need to know what I'm up against here."
"He had a gash on his head, probably from hitting the steering wheel. I'd guess he has a concussion."
"No, I mean anything not related to the crash. It might look like scratches, claw marks, or even bite marks from a large animal."
Evelyn thought for a moment. "His stomach. He was holding his arm against his stomach like it hurt." She looked to Nick for confirmation.
Nick agreed, "His shirt front was ripped and bloody. When I asked, he told me it was nothing, that he was fine."
Evelyn conveyed Nick's comment to Sam, who responded with a whispered, "dammit". Then louder, "How's he doing now?"
"He's putting up quite a ruckus."
"You can hear him?"
"Oh, yes."
"Okay, we don't have much time. I'd meet you somewhere, but I have to mix up the antidote. Can you bring him to me?"
"Just tell us where."
Evelyn ended up passing the phone to Nick, who gave Sam their current location, then listened to Sam's directions. Even though they'd traveled several miles in the wrong direction, they still reached the hotel room in very little time.
The noises from the trunk grew louder and more erratic as they drove. Evelyn began to fear for the young man, concerned that he might hurt himself. Her curiosity about this man also grew. Who was he? What had happened to him to cause the car crash? What kind of antidote could Sam possibly make up that wouldn't be readily available at a hospital? Why did Dean want to avoid the police?
Perhaps helping this man was a mistake. He could be anyone… even a criminal or a murderer… but Evelyn knew in her heart that they were doing the right thing, as odd as that seemed.
Nick pulled the car to a stop in front of the motel room. With Nick's steady hand lending her strength, Evelyn stood and looked around. The place looked like a run-down dump that should have been condemned years ago. She was appalled that anyone would feel compelled to stay here.
The door to the room closest to them flew open and out stepped a very tall, handsome young man. The look of concern on his face convinced her immediately that this was Sam. Sam covered the space between them in just a few of his long steps.
"Mr. and Mrs. Stallings?"
They each shook his hand and pressed him to use their given names.
Nick led the way to the trunk, where Dean was being unusually quiet after all his yelling and banging during the drive over. Sam insisted on unlocking the trunk himself, explaining that Dean was very unpredictable at the moment and that he didn't want to risk that his brother might unintentionally hurt Nick or Evelyn.
Brothers, Evelyn thought. That explained the bond she was sensing between these two men.
Sam unlocked and raised the trunk in one swift motion. Just as quickly, Dean rose up, slammed Sam backward with a punch to the jaw, and sprang to the pavement. He turned to face his adversaries, his body poised for battle. His wild eyes flitted around, taking in Sam and the older couple as if he'd never seen them before.
Dean directed his fury at Sam. "Get away from me, you sonuvabitch?"
Rubbing his aching jaw, Sam took one step closer to Dean, who stepped back, putting his hands up in warning. Sam backed off a step. "Dean, it's okay. I need you to come with me."
With an almost animalistic growl, Dean lunged at his brother. The two men grappled, with Sam obviously trying not to hurt the already injured man.
Nick took Evelyn's elbow and moved her several steps away from the dueling brothers. When she turned back, she saw that Sam had Dean locked in a hold, Dean's back to Sam's chest. Dean struggled to get loose, but Sam held him tightly.
Sam tried again. "Dean, listen to me. It's Sam. Your brother."
Dean stopped struggling and blinked in confusion, his gravelly voice uncertain. "Sammy?"
"Yeah, Dean. It's me."
"Sam, I don't..." He shook his head as if trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain.
"I know, Dean. I know." Sam loosened his grip, adjusting his hold to allow his brother to stand on his own, when Dean suddenly went limp. "Dammit!" Sam struggled to keep the sudden shift in weight from toppling them both to the ground.
Nick jumped forward, adding support for Dean's dead weight. Together, the two manhandled the injured brother into the room, setting him on the closest bed.
Evelyn followed behind. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Not that seeing was an improvement. The room looked just as bleak as she'd imagined it to be; stained and faded wallpaper peeled in several places, the carpet, curtains, and bedspreads all competed for most threadbare, and the smell! She placed a hand over her mouth in an effort to block out the scent as much as possible.
Ignoring their presence, Sam moved quickly to the counter in the cramped kitchenette area where various items were laid out. Though his back was to them, Evelyn could clearly see that he was mixing something up.
"How can we help, Sam?" She asked.
Sam turned his head slightly, giving her a profile of his face before turning back to his work. "Thanks, but I've got this. There's really nothing you can do. We're kindof used to taking care of each other."
Evelyn felt conflicted. Obviously, Dean required quite a bit of looking after. She couldn't abandon these two men when she felt that they needed her help. On the other hand, Sam didn't seem to want any further interference from them. She glanced at Nick, who shrugged understandingly.
Just then, Dean began moaning and writhing on the bed.
Sam shouted, "No, no, no, no, no! Hang on, Dean!" He turned to Nick. "I'll finish mixing the antidote. Can you hold him down?"
"Of course," Nick responded and moved to restrain Dean.
Evelyn stood where she was, feeling completely useless. She watched as Sam finished mixing his concoction, which emitted a stench she could smell even from across the small motel room. Sam set the mixture on the bedside table within reach, then, relieving Nick of his hold on Dean's forearms, placed himself almost full-bodied across Dean's torso, headless of his brother's injuries.
With Dean's arms effectively pinned, Sam took up the bowl from the nightstand and poured it into Dean's mouth. Dean gagged and choked around the noxious smelling liquid. Rivulets of the stuff ran down the side of his face. Eventually, Sam must have been satisfied that enough went down Dean's gullet because he set the bowl aside and waited. The thrashing intensified for several very long moments before Dean finally began to calm.
Sam sat back, releasing his hold on Dean's body. Sam's hands roamed his brother's face, lifting Dean's eyelids and checking his temperature. Apparently satisfied with what he found, Sam swiveled on the bed to address Nick and Evelyn. His eyes reflected both relief and exhaustion.
"I think he's out of danger now. Thank you for your help. I can handle it from here."
Nick glanced at Evelyn. She wasn't sure what her husband saw in her expression since she was beginning to feel a little numb, but he nodded once and turned back to Sam. "All due respect, Son, but you look like hell yourself. Evelyn and I are glad to stay and help. Seems like you could use it."
His words broke Evelyn from her stupor. She stepped forward a few steps and laid a hand on Nick's shoulder. "Besides," she added, "we feel responsible for Dean since we pulled him from the scene of an accident and didn't take him to a hospital. We'd like to see this through."
Sam held each of their gazes, his look defiant and stubborn, but instead of arguing with them, his shoulders slumped. "Thank you. We've been taking care of each other for so long that we don't even think about it. But it'll be nice to have some help. I appreciate it."
That's how Evelyn ended up assisting Sam in stitching up Dean's abdomen, a job she'd never had to do before even after raising three active boys. It was certainly a new experience, but she'd never been squeamish about such things, so she'd offered her assistance when Sam asked. While they cleaned and stitched Dean up, Nick ran to the office for fresh sheets.
After Nick returned with an armful of bed linens, he helped Sam move Dean to the other bed. Then Sam and Nick changed out the filthy sheets from Dean's bed and replaced them with fresh one while Evelyn wiped Dean's skin with a cool cloth. The poor man was radiating heat.
Dean's temperature stayed high for the rest of the night. The three caregivers took turns keeping vigil. Nick made a food run, and later a coffee and snacks run. Sam refused to leave the motel room, even to get some fresh air.
They tried to ask about the boys, find out more about what brought them to the area, what could have happened to Dean, and how Sam had known what to put in the antidote. Sam evaded their questions when he could, explaining only that they traveled a lot, and that bizarre animal attacks were their specialty. They decided to let the subject drop, but Evelyn felt sure that there was more to these boys than Sam admitted.
By the time the sunlight slanted through the grimy windows, Dean's temperature had dropped to normal and he rested easily. Nick convinced Sam to stretch out on the other bed, promising the exhausted younger brother that they would wake him if there was any change in Dean's condition.
Nick slipped quietly out of the room to get everyone some breakfast. Evelyn sat in a stiff chair beside the invalid's bed, listening to the sounds of both men sleeping. She was amazed to realize how deeply she felt for these virtual strangers. They seemed about the same age as her youngest boys. She wondered about their mama. Was she worried about her little boys, wringing her hands and praying for their safety? For this unknown woman's sake, Evelyn intended to look after these boys until she could be sure they would be okay.
In the middle of these reflections, Evelyn realized she was no longer alone. Dean watched her with heavily lidded eyes. She smiled at the man and offered him a glass of water, helping him drink from the glass since his hands were shaky.
When he'd had his fill, she set the glass down again and smiled at him. She spoke softly so as not to wake his sleeping brother. "How are you feeling, Dean? Can I get you anything?"
"Sam?" His voice was hoarse, the single word spoken with effort.
She gestured toward the other bed. "He's getting some much-needed sleep. Your brother was very worried about you."
Dean snorted. "Bet he was." He shifted slightly and couldn't hide the grimace the movement caused.
"Sam left you some pain medicine. Would you like to take it now?" Evelyn offered. At Dean's grunted assent, Evelyn gave him the pill and again helped him with the glass of water. "Get some sleep," she ordered gently. "Your brother will want a good report of you when he wakes up."
Dean chuckled softly but obeyed. Soon his breathing evened out again and Evelyn was left alone again with the two sleeping men.
Nick returned with breakfast, slipping as quietly as he could into the room. Regardless of his effort not to wake anyone, Sam sat up stiffly. The man looked at them warily for a moment before turning his gaze to the other bed. He relaxed visibly on seeing his brother sleeping peacefully.
Evelyn gave him the brief update. "He woke a short while ago and took the pain medicine. He only said a few words, but he seems to be on the mend."
Sam smiled his appreciation and swung his long legs over the bed. He checked on Dean himself, then strode to the bathroom and closed the door. He emerged a few minutes later looking amazingly refreshed after so little sleep.
He gratefully took a cup of coffee and sat down at the rickety table. Nick and Evelyn joined him. The breakfast of sausage and egg biscuits was tasty, though Evelyn couldn't help thinking that she could have offered the men a much better meal if she'd had her own kitchen.
When they'd all finished and were sipping their coffees, Sam thanked them again for their help, letting them know that he really could handle things now that Dean was out of danger.
Nick picked up the motel notepad and pen from the dresser behind him and started scribbling, then ripped the page off and handed it to Sam. "That's our address and phone number. We only live about 25 miles from here. Sam, if you boys ever need anything… and I mean anything… you contact us. You hear?"
Sam folded the paper up and placing it in his pocket before taking Nick's hand in a firm shake.
He turned to Evelyn, his hand extended, but she ignored it and gave him a big hug instead. She felt him return her embrace, his chin resting briefly on the top of her head. When she pulled away, she thought she detected tears in his eyes. She smiled at him. "And, Sam, you don't have to wait until you need something to call us. You boys are welcome at our house any time. We'd love to hear from you."
Sam thanked her warmly and walked out with them. He even assisted Evelyn into the passenger seat of their car before stepping back. She noticed then that he was wearing sweats and a t-shirt but no shoes. The mother in her tisked that it was too chilly outside to be standing around barefoot, but she simply waved her goodbyes as Nick drove them out of the lot.
What an adventure! She wasn't sure if she'd ever hear from these boys again, but she'd certainly think of them often. They'd worked their way into her heart very quickly and she didn't think she'd forget them. Not as long as she lived.
xXx
Nick sat in his recliner, struggling through a crossword puzzle. He just couldn't concentrate on it. These brain puzzles were much easier, and more interesting, with Evelyn there to bounce ideas off of. He'd just set the puzzle aside when he heard a knock on his door. He groaned, expecting to find another well-meaning friend with yet another casserole in hand. Did they not think he could feed himself?
The door opened, not to a concerned friend, but to Sam. Nick hadn't seen or heard from the tall young man since that eventful day eight months ago.
Nick ushered him in and gestured for Sam to take a seat on the couch. Sam accepted Nick's offer of a beer and the two settled companionably for a chat.
"So tell me, Sam, what brings you here?"
"Honestly, Nick, I was just passing through and felt like some company," Sam replied.
"Good. I said you were always welcome and I meant it."
"Thanks," Sam replied, but he seemed distracted. He fiddled with the label on the beer bottle more than he drank. After a few moments of silence, he asked, "So where's Evelyn? I'd hoped to thank her again in person."
The grief Nick had been trying to ignore welled up again at the sound of Evy's name. Everyone else he'd talked to these last couple of weeks had avoided even mentioning her.
A voice in his head, which always sounded like hers, told him to break the news gently, but he just couldn't make the proper words form. Instead, he bluntly stated, "She died." There. It was out. No avoiding the truth anymore.
A look of deep sorrow filled Sam's face. In fact, his entire body reflected sincere empathy rather than the polite kindness Nick had received since even before the funeral. It seemed as though Sam truly understood what Nick was going through. "Nick, I'm so sorry," he said, and Nick believed him. He briefly wondered what had happened in Sam's life to give him such compassion.
"It's been almost two weeks," Nick continued, surprised to find that he really did want to talk about her now that he'd started. It was a relief to share it with someone. "She was so sick for so long. That day, when we met you boys, we'd been visiting one of our kids, trying to see everyone one last time before the end. She'd wanted the grandkids to remember her as she was and not as a sick woman in a hospital bed. She lasted longer than the doctors predicted, but it was hard on her. She's..." Nick stifled a sob, "...she's in a better place now. Where there's no more suffering. That's my consolation."
The men sat in silence for a few minutes, each wrapped in his own thoughts.
Nick shook himself back to the present and reminded himself of his manners. He had a guest. He tried a new topic of conversation. "Where's that brother of yours, Sam? I was under the impression that you two traveled together."
The sorrow on Sam's face deepened to raw grief. Nick felt that he completely understood that shattered look in Sam's eyes. But then Sam's features hardened and his voice was tight when he replied, "Dean's gone."
"I'm sorry, Sam. Was it... I mean, seemed like you boys lived a pretty dangerous life. Was it that?"
Sam confirmed with a slight nod. "What we do... what we did... is really dangerous work. Dean knew that. We'd promised each other that if anything happened to one of us, the other one would quit the job and move on. Live a normal life. So that's what I'm doing. I'm moving on. Like Dean would've wanted."
Nick noted the slumped shoulders and pain hidden behind those hardened eyes. "Is that what you want, Sam? Really? Because if it's not, you'll never really be happy."
"That's just it, Nick. This is what I've wanted my whole life. To be normal. To quit the family business and live a safe, happy, normal life. And Dean practically ordered me to. I just..."
"You don't understand why you feel so guilty, right?"
Sam agreed and asked, "You too?"
"Yep. Promised Evy I wouldn't sit around grieving for her. But every time I do something normal, try to move on, I'm wracked with guilt. I guess because the pain is still so new, so raw. Do you mind if I ask how long ago it happened?"
"Just a few weeks ago."
Nick's heart went out to this brave man. "Will you take some advice, one grieving old fool to another? Take some time off to figure out what you really want. In the end, it doesn't matter what Dean wanted. What matters is what's best for you. As hard as it is, Dean's gone. You have to live your life for you."
Sam seemed deep in thought. Nick got up and headed to the kitchen to give Sam a little time to think. To be honest, he could use a few minutes to himself as well.
He came back out a few minutes later with some fresh beers and an offer for dinner. Sam declined, saying that he really should hit the road.
As Nick stood in his doorway, watching the sleek black car disappear around the corner, he realized something. Somewhere during his conversation with Sam, his own burden of grief seemed to be lifted, at least a little. He just hoped that Sam had found similar comfort today.
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