Okay, see, now that's just fucking unfair. He knew what that bike meant to her, but she was more important. He only hesitated for a moment before proceeding out the door, "Leave the bike, Max. Sammy... Godddamn it, Sam had better be fine."
He set her down on the lawn a good distance away from the building. "We have to fix you up, you're losing a lot of blood." Well, it looked that way, at least. Headwounds always looked bad. He tried to calm himself down, looking over his shoulder at the building from time to time, hoping Sam was alright.
Shake it off, Dean. C'mon. He thought, kneeling down next to her. "You're gunna be alright, Max, just keep focused. How many fingers am I holding up?" He held up three fingers.