"Don't. You don't need to worry about that now, Sam. Don't even think about it." Dean held tight to Sam's hand. His other hand went to the wound, he only glanced at it, he didn't want to look at it. But he needed to see the gaping hole, to put his free hand over it, to give it pressure and try to stunt the bleeding, even a little.
The damned sirens seemed so far away, still. Shouldn't the hospital be closer to the courthouse? Dean tried not to think about that. No. Help was coming. And until then, Sam had Dean there to hold him together. He shifted, pulling Sam's head off the hard concrete and onto his lap.