A/N: This is a short one-shot and could be counted as an AU. It's just about something that I think should've happened after episode 18. Not that the episode wasn't good the way it was written. No. It was really really great. I'm just saying that it'd be nice if we could see something like this.
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**Spoiler Alert**
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Well, I was just wondering where the second bullet had landed. (We heard two shots! Remember?) This is my way to talk about it. So, this story is for those of you, like me, who have been waiting for something else to happen. This way, or another!
Please let me know what you think. I couldn't stop thinking about the second shot. So, I really wanna know if anyone else felt like this? :)
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- Just Like The Good Ol' Days -
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Everyone was busy with their own problems. Castiel was still weak and well, too busy trying to hide the truth from the others. Bobby hardly could keep his eyes open. Sam was torn between being happy for having the Phoenix ash and worrying about how to defeat the Mother of all. And Dean... Well, Dean used their distracted minds to silently leave the room and nobody really realized that.
The adrenaline had started to wear off, now that they were back and they had the ash. Pain had started to show itself in full force. Dean sneaked out of the house and walked towards the Impala. Grabbing the first aid kit, he hesitated for a few seconds, not sure where to go. He finally got back to the house and went straight to the bathroom, being careful not to alert anyone else. They already had enough to be worried about; they didn't need to know about a graze on his shoulder.
'It's just a graze. It's nothing.' Dean kept repeating that in his mind, hoping against hope that saying it over and over again would really change the bleeding wound to a graze. His shoulder was in fire, and though he could feel the same pain at the backside of his shoulder, he turned around and checked it in the mirror to make sure that there really was an exit wound. He sighed in relief when he found one, but muttered under his breath. "Well, it still needs some stitches."
Taking the bottle of Whiskey, he took a few gulps, before pouring it on his wound. "Gaah." he grumbled. "Good thing, he hadn't taken the shooting lessons as serious as me."
It was about half an hour later when Sam knocked the door. "Dean, you in there?"
Dean was done with his ordeal. He had stitched the entry and patched the exit wound. "Yeah, will be out in a moment."
"It's OK, I was just wondering where did you disappear to."
"That's Cass' thing." Dean opened the door, after hiding the evidence of the patching.
"Huh?"
"Disappearing. It's Cass' thing."
"Aha, and what were you doing in there?"
"Forget I asked." Sam added when Dean just glared at him.
Dean rolled his eyes and walked towards an empty room. "How's Bobby?"
"He's sleeping. Cass left a few minutes ago. What do you think had happened to him?"
"No freaking idea." Dean replied. "And here I thought you said you hated those clothes."
"What?"
"Don't you wanna change them?" Dean threw Sam's clothes towards him, before closing the door behind. Sam looked down at his own clothes and instantly walked away to change.
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Sam looked at his brother from the passenger seat of Impala. "You look hot, Dean."
"Thanks." Dean grinned.
Two days had passed since they had got back from the time traveling and they finally had decided to look at another case, while Bobby was looking for a sign of Eve.
"I don't wanna even think about a retort for that." Sam wrinkled his nose. "Seriously, you alright?"
"Why shouldn't I be?" Dean glanced at Sam. The truth was he was a little drowsy and the pain in his shoulder had intensified in aftermath of his long driving.
"Why don't we call it a night? There was a motel a few miles back." Sam offered, praying that Dean would accept, even though the sun hadn't set yet.
"Hmm, doesn't sound that bad. I could get some shut eye." Dean said and turned the car around.
Sam kept staring at him for a few seconds.
"I don't feel comfortable when you look at me that way, especially after your last comment."
"You're gross."
"So are you." he stopped the car in front of the lousy motel.
"Ewww... Why don't you let me drive, so we can stop by the next motel?"
"If I wanted to spend the time in the car, I was perfectly capable of driving, myself. Get out; this is not the worst place we've stayed at." Dean opened his door. "I'll go get the room."
"I'll bring our stuff." Sam said as he walked towards the truck. Grabbing their duffel bags, his eyes landed on the pocket of their western wears. A tiny smile appeared on his face as he remembered the grim look on Dean's face when he had taken off his blanket. Suddenly he couldn't remember what Dean was wearing the next day, so he took the pocket and pulled out Dean's clothes. Staring at the trench coat in his hand, he wondered when Dean had found the time to go shopping in less than one day. His mind didn't stand on the same question long, when his eyes spotted a hole in the left side of the trench coat. He blinked a few times and suddenly remembered that he had heard TWO gunshots that day in Sunrise. Yes, one had landed in the Phoenix's chest, but what about the other? He hadn't even thought about it till that moment. But now, now he could see where the other one had landed. Putting the trench coat aside, he grabbed Dean's shirt and found the matching hole in it. The dried blood, also, confirmed his fear. "Dammit Dean." he growled angrily.
"Why now?" Dean's voice startled him a little. He turned around and held the shirt up for Dean to see the hole.
"Awesome." Dean heaved a sigh. "OK, I change my last question to a new one. What now?"
"Now? Now, you'll tell me why in the hell you kept this from me? Why you thought you better leave a gunshot wound untreated?"
"And why do you think I've left it untreated?" Dean challenged back. "I can take care of myself, you know? You guys had enough problems back then. I just cut you some slack."
"Dean, this is a bullet wound. How could you take care of it by yourself?"
"Just take a look at the backside." Dean nodded toward the shirt. "It was a through and through. Just needed some stitches."
"Yeah, that's why you look so good." Sam said sarcastically.
"OK, I might have not been able to stitch the exit wound, but I patched it and I'm sure it's not infected. So, no need to worry. It's healing just nicely."
Sam didn't say anything more. He went back to the truck, grabbed the first aid kit and looked back at Dean.
Dean shrugged with his good shoulder. "Room 101. Don't forget to lock the car."
Sam did as he was told and stalked after Dean.
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"This needed stitched 2 days ago." Sam examined the wound on Dean's shoulder. "But you were right, it's a through and through."
"Of course I was right. I know about the wounds after these many years." Dean paused. "Give me that bottle."
Sam handed him the bottle of Whiskey. "You still should've told me."
"I still think you didn't need to know. It's fine."
"How could you even hide it?"
"I'm a professional" Dean grinned cockily.
"Yeah, and I hate it when you do it." Sam started with cleaning the wound.
Dean decided it was a good time to change the subject. "I wonder what would happen if Elias was as good as me."
"What?" Sam's voice was laced with confusion.
"Well, my bullet had landed in his chest. If he was as good as me, I would have died in 1861." Dean smirked, like it was the most entertaining subject.
Sam stopped in his tracks. "You wanna know what would happen if you had died in 1861?"Sam frowned. "Nothing would change. Your dead body would come back here, and I'd find a way to resuscitate you, so I could kill you myself."
"That'd be new on my list, though. I've never died like that before." Dean stated, trying to keep his mind away from the sharp pain in his shoulder.
"You're now making a list of the ways you've died?" Sam asked incredulously.
"That's not something everybody can do." Dean half shrugged. "Come on Sammy, admit it. It's kinda cool."
"Just make sure you won't publish it ever. I don't like to visit you in a mental hospital."
"Ah, don't worry about it bro, you'd be there way before me."
"Maybe you're right. Whatever it is, I'm sure it'd be better than this so called motel." He started to bandage the wound. "I'm done, but I won't be surprised if you end up getting a nasty infection. I can see the germs in the air."
"That'd be your fault. It was healing just fine."
"At least, now you have a unique wound to add to the list of your injuries."
"Huh, good point. And now I wish it wasn't a through and through. A bullet from 1861. Man, I'd definitely keep it in a safe box."
"You could be happy that you've left your blood in 1861 and hey, you killed the mysterious killer in Wyoming. If you just had introduced yourself as Dean Winchester." Sam chuckled.
Dean's face dropped."Aaah, Don't Sam. Shut up before I put a bullet in my head. Or better, yours."
Sam's chuckling turned to laughter. "I'll bring you some pizza. Get some sleep."
"Just get out." Dean grumbled.
"Oh man, Clint Eastwood must be even more famous now."
"Get OUT."
"Yeah Marshal East-" Sam couldn't finish his word, as Dean's boot collided with his head."Awww... You're abusive."
"Get the hell out."
Sam laughed and left the room. Leaving Dean behind to smile and lie down on the bed. "Boy, I've been missing our usual banters." Sighing, he closed his eyes and drifted off. The smile still on his face.
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-The End-
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A/N 2: That's it. Hope you share your opinions with me. :)
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