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Dean didn’t have to physically look up to many people other than his younger brother. They were both over average height for the United States and Sam was significantly taller than that, so other than facing down monsters it typically wasn’t an issue. This guy, though, had even Sam tilting his head up a little and it was a little uncomfortable.
He hadn’t made the connection when he saw the guy sprawled out on the sand of Lake Michigan, wheezing and leaking blood and lake water all over the place. The guy had been shot twice with what had to be either a large caliber weapon or a high-powered rifle and he was incredibly lucky to have taken the shots where he did. One shot had grazed his skull, like he’d somehow dodged a head shot at the last moment, and one had gone through the top of his shoulder. The last one would be a bitch to recuperate, because it had to have messed with muscle and tendon and bone, but it was positioned precisely north of his heart. Both of the shots were non-lethal at the moment, though the man likely had a concussion and lost a decent amount of blood. A dip in Lake Michigan with open wounds would also invite infection that he would need to monitor, but considering how close those two shots could have been instantly deadly the guy would probably take it and be grateful.
“Dude, you alive?”
The man coughed something that resembled a laugh. “Yeah, I think so. You see a boat around here?”
Dean squinted his eyes against the setting sun. “There’s something at the dock about half a mile down the beach.” It looked a little beat up, but so did this guy. They were probably a matched set.
“Hate to bother you, but could you help me get down there? I was meeting someone for a date, she can get me to medical help.”
“Shoulder’s gonna scream when you start to move,” Dean warned. “You’re really going to want someone with painkillers on hand.”
The guy gritted his teeth and lifted his good arm. “Just do it, if you can. I can’t afford to go to a hospital right now anyway.”
Dean mentally shrugged and did as he was asked. He wasn’t responsible for anyone’s masochism, and a guy had a right to do those kinds of things the way he wanted. He braced and lifted, used to helping Sammy up and needing to leverage things to make it happen. The guy came up and up and up, closer to seven feet than anyone Dean had met in person before.
There was a strangled groan and the man swayed dangerously as he adjusted. “This is going to be hurt like hell,” he muttered.
“Shoulder’s going to need some rehab,” Dean offered. “I’ve been shot like that before and it sucked. But its directly above your heart by about ten inches, so I guess you lucked out.”
“Doesn’t feel lucky right now,” he growled. “OK, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
The date the man had mentioned turned out to be a tiny blond that Dean was willing to bet could kick the man’s ass six ways from Sunday, and he helped her get the giant wedged into the back of her car. She looked a little tired and there were a few bruises on the woman’s face and arms, and she sighed as she leaned against the car. “No idea who did this?”
Dean shrugged and didn’t offer up his opinion that the guy had been targeted by a sniper and that sheer stupid luck had kept him alive. He was pretty sure he was looking at law enforcement right now and he didn’t want to attract too much attention. “I’m only in Chicago because my girlfriend wanted me to come along on her work trip. Don’t know what to tell you.”
“I’m going to get this idiot some medical attention before he bleeds out in my car. It has been a long couple of days.” She shook her head and got into the car, driving away without further questions. Dean would take it.
Even though he had a nagging feeling he had just met the guy Bobby wanted him to meet, the one who called himself a wizard and advertised in the phone book. He had left messages but never got a reply.
Probably better not to think about it.