AN: This is my first supernatural fanfiction, much inspired by emebalia's fellowship series. I liked her character Luis, so I asked her if I could borrow him. So, many thanks for allowing me to use him. I hope I do him justice.

I guess it's fair to say it helps if you've read "The fellowship of the nine" and "Two brothers", but I am trying hard to keep it enjoyable even if you don't know them.

Luis POV

Disclaimer: I own nothing supernatural nor Luis.

CHAPTER 1

With a happy sigh I plunked myself onto my couch, beer bottle in hand and propped my feet up on the little coffee table. It was Friday evening and I had just finished my shift at Memorial Hospital. It was my last shift before starting a well-deserved, three week vacation, the first vacation I'd had since moving here about seven months ago. I had enjoyed the relative quietness and anonymity of this town after the rather exciting and somewhat scary events that eventually forced me to change venue.

Taking a swig from my beer, I enjoyed the coolness running down my throat. I fished for the remote and switched on the TV. Friday night football showed a matchup that promised to be interesting and I relaxed back into the cushions.

Just as I tipped the bottle back for another sip of beer, my cellphone, on the coffee table, started to vibrate and move towards the edge of the round table. I sighed and dropped my feet to the ground in order to reach forward and grab the phone that had invaded the early minutes of my vacation.

An unknown number. I stared at it indignantly. It didn't ring a bell at all. I decided to let it go to voicemail and eventually the vibrating stopped. With a sigh I made to settle back in the cushions, but before I had even propped my feet back up, the offensive vibrating started again. One glance told me it was the same number.

Suppressing a curse I picked up the phone and took the call.

"Who's this?" I rasped gruffly. No harm in letting the caller know I wasn't happy about the invasion.

"Luis?"

I froze. I knew this voice, even though I never thought he'd actually call. Immediately the hair in my neck stood on edge and apprehension flooded my body. He would never call unless...I pushed the horrifying thoughts that entered my mind aside.

"Sam?"

There was only one reason why he would call me. I just wasn't sure I was ready for it. After the last time we met I had left my former college buddy and his brother my number for emergencies, knowing damn well they'd never call just to say hi. I had gotten yet another first hand insight into what the brothers were doing when I'd had to fix Sam after he was attacked by a manticore and later having seen the beast that almost gutted Sam beyond repair with my own eyes.

"Sam, are you alright?" I asked when Sam didn't continue. I got up and walked to the window, checking the driveway for a black Impala.

"It's Dean," Sam finally said. "Popped his shoulder... can't fix it."

"Sam," I started, but stopped short, trying to listen to the background noises. I wasn't certain, but it sure had sounded like a shot and a crash after to me. Before I could continue, however, Sam beat me to it.

"Needed to make sure you're home. Be there in ten."

"How...?" I trailed off, staring at the phone in my hand when I heard the disconnecting click. How did he know where I was? I know I had promised to fill them in on my new address once I had one but I hadn't gotten around to it, yet. Shaking my head I tried to make sense of what little Sam had mentioned. So Dean had busted his shoulder and Sam couldn't fix it. That could mean just about anything.

I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes, Sam had said. I pocketed my phone and went to grab my extended first aid kit I kept in the bathroom. Dumping it on the kitchen table I opened it and went to fetch some towels and switched on the kettle for hot water. Better to be ready. I had only met the brothers twice after Sam left Stanford, but I knew enough to be prepared for the worst.

Trailing back and forth between kitchen, bathroom and living room, to make sure I had everything that might be needed, I looked at my watch again. Eight minutes had passed since Sam's call. Darkness was starting to settle and I found myself back at the living room window, to check for the Impala. The kettle whistled and I rushed to the kitchen to take care of it, while keeping my ears strained for the low rumbling of their car.

I returned to my spot at the window. No Impala in sight. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I glanced at the watch again. Twelve minutes since Sam had called. Before I knew it I found myself pacing back and forth until I couldn't take it anymore. I walked up to my front door and stepped out onto the porch. My house was the only one at this dead end road for about 500 yards. A few steps further there was the edge of the forest. By now darkness was closing in and I could hardly make out the closest house to mine. What was keeping them? Maybe Sam didn't know after all where I lived now or he had miscalculated the time they needed to get here.

Seventeen minutes.

I was pacing outside now, looking for the iconic Impala headlights to appear. My thumb was hovering over my phone as I contemplated trying the number Sam had used to reach me. Just a few more minutes, Luis, I told myself, starting another round of doing my impression of a caged tiger.

Finally I heard a low rumbling in the distance and a moment later the headlights of the Impala appeared out of the now inky darkness. Twenty-two minutes.

I stepped back towards my door and switched on the porch light. When I turned around the Impala had come to a stop. I couldn't make out anything but the shape of the car as I walked up to the driver's side. The door opened wide, followed by a dull thump. Quickening my pace I rounded the door just to stop short at the sight that greeted me.

"Dean!"

The older brother had tumbled out the door, feet still in the car. He was lying on his back, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. I knelt down next to him and got as good a look as I could in the dim light from the interior. Dean's left arm looked deformed even through the jacket he wore. He must have used his right arm to open the door and tumbled out along with it. I put my hand on his good shoulder, intending to help him up. His eyes flew open and he shook his head.

"I'm good. Help Sam," he pressed through gritted teeth, breathing harshly. I looked up and into the car to the passenger side. For a moment my heart felt like skipping a beat. Then my doctor instinct took over. Sam was slumped over against the passenger door, apparently unconscious, the left side of his face covered in blood. Way too much blood, for my liking.

Rushing over to the other side of the car I opened the door and caught my friend as he crumpled into my arms. Neither having the time nor the means to check Sam out on the spot, I pulled him out of the car as gently as possible and grabbed him in a fireman's carry. Sam was a tall man and I struggled to get him free of the car and safely into the house.

Finally I had him settled on my couch, taking my flashlight to check his pupils. "Concussion for sure," I mumbled to myself. Then I grabbed a towel and dabbed at the inch long cut above his left eyebrow. Stitches. But that could wait until I had seen to Dean.

"Dean? What the hell happened?" I called out while I used the towel to clean Sam's blood off me. When I got no reply I looked up and around. Dean hadn't followed me into the house, but that didn't surprise me much. I glanced at Sam to make sure he was good and then I stepped out onto the porch again.

The Impala was still parked as I left it. Driver's door and passenger door wide open, headlights on. No Dean to be seen. I jogged to the driver's side again. Dean was lying in the exact same spot as before, only now his face was slack in blessed unconsciousness, I hoped.

Raindrops started to fall and I sighed. I'd better get Dean inside before he was soaked to the bone. I grabbed his legs and pulled them free from the car when a thought hit me. Considering the situation a brief moment I realized Dean would never forgive me if I left his beloved car vulnerable to the elements. Dean would have to hold on another minute. I shut the passenger door and switched off the headlights, then removed the keys from the ignition.

"Okay, Dean. Your car is good. Now let's get you inside," I muttered. Mindful of his left shoulder I grabbed his right arm and slid a hand under his neck to grab a fist full of leather jacket, then I pulled him away from the door. Pausing a moment to bang the driver's door closed, I noticed blood on my left arm.

"Darn," I softly cursed. I had made sure there was none of Sam's blood left on me after cleaning him up so this could only mean Dean was in similar shape. How did he get the car here? Or maybe I should wonder how he got his brother in the car to start with. I sighed. The answers would have to wait.

I managed to get Dean onto my other couch much in the same manner I had carried Sam. Then I stepped back a moment to take stock. There was the obvious injury to Dean's shoulder but apart from that I saw nothing. No obvious bullet or knife wounds, slashes or abrasions. But that was only the front of him. "Where are you hiding your wound, Dean?" I mumbled to myself. Back of the head was my best guess. I carefully rolled the man onto his side. "Bingo."

Blood matted hair greeted me and I softly prodded around the injured area. Felt like a gash but not like mashed skull. Luckily Dean, unlike his brother, chose to keep his hair trimmed, which made it easier to assess the gash. Like all head injuries it had bled like hell. The bleeding had subsided by now and I cleaned around the gash to stitch it up. I only had to shave off a little of Dean's hair which would be almost grown back by the time the stitches were to come out.

I took my sewing kit over to Sam, proceeded to clean his wound and then applied some pressure to minimize the bleeding. The needle and thread work here was a quick routine and two minutes later I applied a Band-Aid to protect the stitches. Then I quickly scanned the rest of Sam. After all I had heard a gunshot. But by the looks of it there were no other injuries on Sam.

"Sam?" I asked, shaking his shoulder in an attempt to rouse him. Sam didn't respond. Only the steady rise and fall of his ribcage assured me he was doing fine, apart from being in dreamland. I would have to keep my eyes on him, but there was still Dean and his injured shoulder to worry about.

Turning back to the older brother, I worked on getting the leather jacket off him, which wasn't easy due to his complete unconsciousness. It would have been easier to just cut him out of it, but something told me he wouldn't appreciate my working on his jacket with a sharp object. Finally I had freed his torso from all of his garments. Sure enough he sported the same tattoo I had seen on Sam those months earlier. I made a mental note to ask about its significance later.

Dean's shoulder was starting to discolor already and I briefly wondered if I should risk getting him to the hospital for x-rays. Then I remembered the reason I decided to switch hospitals after the last time we met, having to do with the fact that they used false insurance. I didn't feel like having to move on again so the hospital was out of the question, unless it was unavoidable. A few tests on the humerus elicited a pained moan from Dean and told me the bone was intact. In light of the fact that Dean was starting to come to, I quickly arranged for our positions to be suitable to relocate the joint. Bracing myself, I gripped his arm firmly and mentally counting to three, I swiftly executed the necessary motion to fix the dislocation.

"Sonofabitch," Dean rasped through clenched teeth. A pair of green globes glared at me through half lidded eyes.

"Sorry," I said sympathetically. "It had to be done."

Dean's eyes softened slightly and he strained to sit up. I knew better than to try and assist him, yet I couldn't help but noticing the numerous scars on his torso made by bullets, knifes, claws and God knew what else. Did I want to know what the brothers had faced in their lives? I wasn't sure.

"How's Sam?"

I nodded to myself, having expected the question. From our last encounter I knew that Dean worried more about his brother than himself and vice versa.

"I suspect he's a bit concussed but we won't know for sure until he wakes up. He'll be okay," I replied, moving over to Sam to reassure myself of the truth of my words. "What happened?"

Dean grunted and waved his good hand dismissively. "Got on the bad side of a pissed Casper," he rasped. "Dude didn't appreciate our attempt to gank him."

I couldn't help but chuckle. Leave it to Dean to trivialize a ghost attack. I stepped up to the counter to pick up some painkillers and a glass of water and walked over to Dean.

"Good stuff," I told him, "doctor's orders." Dean frowned but I was determined not to back down. I forced myself to keep his stare and finally Dean stretched out his hand and took the pills.

"If that stuff makes me sleep I will kick your sorry ass three states further than we are now," he growled gruffly, but I was sure I heard a trace of affection in his voice. I raised my hands in mock surrender.

"Just numbs the pain, Dean. I swear." Dean snorted and made short work of his dessert. "I need to wrap up your shoulder still," I attempted, holding up a triangle sheet and some bandages. Dean's eyes widened.

"Aww come on, dude. I'll live."

"Just for a few hours. If you play nice I'll even get you a flashy ice pack for it."

"You're really generous," Dean rolled his eyes and tentatively moved his shoulder. Immediately he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back in pain. "I thought the smarties numb the pain," he hissed, teeth clenched.

"Give them a few minutes to kick in, hotshot," I grumbled, incredulous at the man's impatience. Dean swallowed and held his breath for a moment.

"Okay, doc, wrap it up."

"I knew you'd come around," I grinned and grabbed the stuff to get to work.

"Just don't get any ideas," Dean grumbled when I probed around his bare shoulder. "I don't swing that way."

I chuckled, shaking my head, incredulous. "Believe me; I haven't forgotten it from last time you told me. And just for the record, neither do I." I smiled to myself and got to work. "Why don't you elaborate about your ghost story," I pressed. I had to admit, I was curious. I had witnessed Sam and his brother gank a ghost - as they put it - before and it had shaken me up considerably. In the aftermath I had changed my studies around to become what I am now. A doctor, which came in handy when the brothers had stumbled into my hospital, not so long ago.

"Not much to tell," Dean sighed dismissively.

"Humor me," I countered.

He looked up at me and opened his mouth to say something. But he didn't. Instead he raised his eyebrows and put on a fake smile. "If you insist," he conceded. Then he took a deep breath as I pulled the bandage tighter, but said nothing.

"Read in the papers about the two teens that checked out the abandoned mansion on the other side of town?" he started. I nodded. I had read that, too. Those youngsters had disappeared on the premises and reappeared on the other side of the property's gate a few days later, bodies broken and mangled, stiff and stark. Had looked like someone had tossed them over the wall like a bag of trash. Police had suspected that homeless people had used the abandoned building as shelter and didn't appreciate the invasion, but they found no evidence of anybody living there in any way.

"Sam dug up a story of a young man who had been killed in the house and buried on the property. So we decided to do a simple salt and burn." Dean paused, glancing over at his brother. I took this as my cue to check on Sam again.

"What went wrong?" I inquired while going over my routine. Dean snorted derisively.

"Nothing, in the beginning. We located the grave, dug up the body and were about to finish the job when they appeared."

"They?"

Dean bobbed his head in agreement. "There must be another grave on the premises. Anyway, Casper did his magic tricks, I went flying into the wall but Sam lit the bones. Only nothing happened. Casper and his friend only went ballistic. We used up most of our arsenal of salt shells to keep them off. Casper's friend sent me flying into the grave marker. Must've popped my shoulder then. Sam tried to help me but they kept coming." Again Dean glanced at his brother.

"Don't worry, he's doing good," I said reassuringly. "He has a hard head." Dean snorted and nodded slightly before picking up his story.

"By then my shoulder started to act up and I was down to my last shell. We decided to retreat and come back later to finish the job so, Sam called you."

"How did you know where to find me?" I interjected.

"GPS on your phone. Hacked the signal," a pained voice from the other couch explained.

"Sam!" Dean and I said in unison. "How do you feel?" I added.

Sam sat up slowly and gingerly touched his head where I had stitched him up. "Like I've been used as a baseball by a ghost," he said.

"He can't feel too bad," Dean concluded with a smile which quickly turned into a pained grimace, when I affixed the last bandage. Even if he wanted to he wouldn't be able to move his arm now. "Watch it, Rambo. I'm a human being with feelings."

"Sorry," I offered with a lopsided grin.

"Sure you are," Dean muttered.

"So what happened to Sam?" I pressed on. "When he called I got the impression you needed fixing, Dean. I didn't expect to find Sam to be the one who wasn't in driving shape."

"You drove us here?" Sam piped up.

"What did you think, bitch? I called Luis to give us a lift cause you decided to take a free trip into the gate?"

Oh, I how missed their banter.

"Jerk!" Sam muttered. "I don't exactly remember what happened after the call I made."

"So what did happen?" I prompted, sitting down next to Dean. He looked me up and down with a frown and I almost expected him to scoot away from me.

"Don't worry, doc, I ain't gonna keel over on you anytime soon," he joked.

"Didn't expect it," I shot back. "But I also didn't expect it earlier when you sort of fell out of the car."

"What can I say? I didn't wanna be the last one standing."

"Dean," Sam urged. "Shoot."

"What do ya think happened? You hung up, Casper didn't like you calling, picked you up and speed barreled you into the gate. You dropped like a stone and I pumped my last salt shell into the asshole. Then I decided to save your sorry ass before Casper had puzzled himself together, and dragged you to the car. Wasn't easy to get your heavy butt in there, with only one arm, but at least no attacks came outside the perimeter. Hauled you in and dropped us here."

I snickered, which earned me confused looks from both Winchesters. "Dropped being the operative word," I explained.

"Glad our entrance here was amusing," Dean said gruffly, but he couldn't prevent a slight smile rushing over his face. I grinned.

"So now how are we going to gank your ghosts?"