Fic: "Let Me Be Your Shelter" 2/2
Title: Let Me Be Your Shelter
Rating: K+
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Word count: ~5700
Summary: Sam gets into trouble while waiting for his big brother outside a bar. Hurt!Sick!Sam and Protective!Bigbrother!Dean. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.
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Their orders had been simple enough: pick up the item for Dad at the bar - then drive straight to Sheridan, Wyoming to catch up with their father and help out on the next hunt. That's why Sam was more than a little surprised when Dean didn't steer the car onto the highway as he was supposed to, but instead pulled up in front of a motel just outside of town.
"Stay here. I'll be right back." Dean said and gave Sam's shoulder a mild squeeze before departing the car.
Sam, still pressing the bandana against his bleeding nose, nodded his answer, and then followed his brother from out of the corner of his eyes as Dean went inside the reception. The short drive from the bar to the motel had been silent - only interrupted by the sporadic cursing from Dean and the sound of his white-knuckled grip making the leather of the wheel squeak in protest. Dean was mad. No doubts about it. And Sam couldn't blame him. After all, he had left the car even though Dean had told him to stay inside it until he got back. Not only had he gone against his brother's instructions, Sam had also gotten himself into trouble in the process.
Sam pinched his aching nose a little tighter. As his eyes watered it wasn't from the pain alone, but also because the thought of Dean being angry with him hurt the thirteen-year-old more than anything else. Sam could deal with injuries and feeling like a failure in his father's eyes at times, but disappointing his big brother was a whole different matter. Trying to blink back the sting of tears, Sam completely missed the moment when Dean returned from the reception, and jumped as the car door suddenly opened.
"Okay, so I got us a… Whoa, easy Sammy!" Dean said, and quickly steadied Sam before he could fall out of the car. "It's just me."
Sam saw the concern in his brother's eyes, and felt even worse about himself. How could Dean still care so much about him after all the trouble Sam had caused this night? How could Dean still make Sam feel so loved when he continued to let Dean down time after time?
Sam's bottom lip started quivering. Despite biting his lip to try to hide it, the action didn't go by unnoticed by his big brother.
"Hey hey, none of that. Sam, come on." Dean said before he slid his hands underneath Sam's armpits, and lifted him out of the car and into his arms once more.
Sam wrapped his legs around Dean's hips and snaked one arm around his brother's neck - being mindful to still keep the bandana in place so that his blood wouldn't get all over Dean's shirt. He closed his eyes as he felt Dean rubbing his back on the way to the trunk of the car. It was impressive, really, how Dean managed to juggle one piece of upset little brother in one arm while at the same time picking up and carrying both of their duffel bags in the other one. But that was Dean for you - ever the superhero in Sam's eyes.
Sam knew he was getting too big to be carried around by Dean like this. Had their dad been there, he would have told Sam to walk on his own and scolded Dean for treating Sam like a baby. But Sam needed this right now. He needed to be enveloped in his big brother's warmth and to feel protected after what he'd just been through. Considering how Sam usually spent his days face-to-face with things that go bump in the night, it was kinda ridiculous how much he clung to Dean in this moment. However, Sam did tend to be clingy when he was hurt or sick, and this night counted for both. Deep down, he knew that Dean needed the closeness too - no matter how mad he was at Sam for not doing what he was supposed to do.
Dean unlocked the motel room door, pushed it open with his hip and kicked it closed behind them with his foot. Once inside, Dean headed straight for the bathroom and lowered Sam down to sit on the edge of the tub.
"Arms up." Dean said as he removed the blood-soaked bandana from Sam's nose and dropped it unceremoniously into the tub.
Sam lifted his arms and allowed his brother to pull the damp sweatshirt off him. He winced a little as the action jarred a few of his injuries, but he was grateful Dean at least removed it as gently as possible. The sweatshirt joined the bandana in the tub, and Sam nearly gagged from the mixed smell of blood and beer.
A calloused hand grasped Sam's chin and tilted his head back a little, and Sam squinted up at his brother as Dean examined his face.
"Shit, Sam." Dean mumbled with a shake of his head, angry lines once again appearing on the seventeen-year-old's face.
Dean let go of Sam's chin and moved away, and Sam stared miserably down at his feet. He heard the sound of the faucet turning on and off, and then pinched his nose as he realized crimson was still dripping from it.
"Here." Dean said, nudged Sam's hand away from his nose and replaced it with a wet washcloth.
Dean's other hand slipped behind Sam's neck, and his head was gently tilted back again as Dean tried to stop the flow of blood with the washcloth. From this angle, Sam couldn't look anywhere but at Dean's face. He noticed a blueish-purplish bruise on Dean's cheekbone that hadn't been there earlier in the day. Sam swallowed hard as he realized Dean must have gotten the bruise while defending Sam outside the bar. That was just another note to add to the list of things Sam felt guilty about this night.
Dean removed the washcloth for a moment and looked at Sam's nose with furrowed eyebrows. Sam heard him curse and saw him folding the damp cloth in half before Dean placed it on Sam's nose again.
"It might be broken." Dean said, face strained and tense. "Damn it! Will you clot already, you stupid blood?"
Dean pinched Sam's nose a little harder, which made Sam squirm in discomfort. Dean must have noticed because he almost immediately eased up a little and sent Sam an apologetic look.
"Wanna tell me what happened?" Dean then asked in a softer tone. "Did those assholes punch you?"
Sam shook his head slightly. He tried to avoid Dean's look, but his brother would have none of it. Moving so that Sam couldn't escape his scrutinizing gaze, Dean sent him a pointed look.
"I get outside the bar and see my little brother on the ground, bleeding, while some sons of bitches are seconds away from rearranging his face with a bottle…" Dean said - then paused and inhaled deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring. "And you reek of beer. So tell me what happened - and don't say 'nothing' because I know that's not true."
Sam hesitated for a moment while Dean kept looking expectantly at him, demanding an answer.
"You're mad." Sam muttered, his voice sounding rather nasal because of his pinched nose.
"Damn right, I'm mad!" Dean practically shouted, which made Sam jump.
That only resulted in more pain emerging from Sam's nose since Dean still had a good grip of it, and the younger brother groaned. His queasy stomach (that had started acting up during the car ride) suddenly churned violently, and Sam started making gagging noises. Dean, always one step ahead when it came to Sam, swiftly took action and, a moment later, Sam found himself bent over the toilet.
"Easy, Sammy. Take it easy." Dean comforted as Sam spilled the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.
However, once started, Sam got himself so worked up that he had a hard time stopping again. He continued to retch - even when he'd got nothing left inside his stomach but bile - and the bitter taste of it didn't make him feel any less nauseous. A combination of puke and the blood from Sam's nose dripped from his chin and into the toilet.
"Dean." Sam cried and clenched the fabric of his brother's jeans - his face wet with tears. "I'm sorry."
Dean, who'd kept one arm around Sam's chest and a hand on his forehead the entire time Sam was retching, gently pulled him away from the toilet until Sam was slumping against Dean's chest.
"Don't worry about it, kiddo." Dean soothed, wiping Sam's face with a towel - then took care of the bleeding nose once more.
Resting against his brother's chest, Sam's nausea subsided a little. He was still upset though - chest aching with the need to make Dean understand his actions, and to be forgiven for going against Dean's orders.
"I s-shouldn't have left the car. I know I shouldn't." Sam confessed in a voice shaky and hoarse from the heaving. "But you said you'd only be gone a few minutes, and then you d-didn't come back and I was worried. So I went to look for you and then these guys came out of the bar and… and…"
Sam both heard and felt Dean's heavy sigh behind him as he struggled to find the words he needed to get off his chest.
"Sam…" Dean began but Sam had already started talking once more.
"I know you're mad at me, but I didn't mean to get in trouble. I just wanted to find you and make sure you were okay. I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry." Sam said - once again struggling against threatening tears.
"Whoa whoa, hang on a minute." Dean then said and maneuvered Sam around until the brothers faced each other. "Is that seriously what you think? That I'm mad at you?"
Sam nodded and tried to dodge his brother's look but Dean, as always, managed to bring Sam's focus back to his face. The incredulous expression, he saw on Dean's face, caught Sam by surprise and confused him. Where was the anger he'd thought he would see there?
"Am I happy that you left the car? No, I'm not, and we'll talk about that later." Dean said. "But mad at you? I don't know how you got that into that geeky brain of yours, but Sammy… I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at those bastards that did this to you!"
Sam took in the genuine look on Dean's face, and something finally loosened inside his chest as Sam nodded in acceptance. He felt immensely relieved now that he knew Dean wasn't angry with him - although he still wasn't sure he deserved it. Dean nodded his head too in a mimic of Sam's, and then removed the towel to check on Sam's nose again.
"Looks like the damn bleeding finally stopped." Dean said, looking relieved.
Getting up from his crouched position on the floor, Dean flushed the toilet and closed the lid of it. He then made Sam sit down on it, left the bathroom and returned a few moments later with the first-aid kit. Sam watched as Dean pulled out a couple of cotton wool balls and some rubbing alcohol, and Sam squirmed a little in nervous anticipation. Dean soaked a wool ball in the alcohol, and Sam braced himself for the stinging he knew would come.
"Sit still." Dean told him as he crouched down in front of Sam.
Sam hissed as Dean started dabbing at the scrapes he'd gotten when he'd face-planted in front of the bar. When he tried to twist away from the stinging pain, Dean held his head in place - however, Dean eased up every now and then to allow Sam a break from the pain before continuing.
"You hurt anywhere else?" Dean wanted to know.
"My fingers." Sam answered and held up his left hand for Dean to see.
"Shit!" Dean gasped when he saw the state of Sam's ring- and middle finger - both colored blue and swollen to twice their normal size.
Dean prodded the fingers a bit but stopped the moment Sam gasped in pain.
"Sorry, sorry." Dean apologized, and Sam saw anger flash across his brother's face. "Oh Sam, these are definitely broken."
"Figured." Sam breathed out - then cradled his hurt hand against his chest the moment Dean let go of it.
His big brother grabbed some gauze and a roll of first-aid tape, and gently pried Sam's hand away from his chest. While Dean began the task of splinting the broken fingers - eyebrows furrowed in concentration - Sam finally told Dean the full story about what had happened outside the bar. His brother didn't interrupt Sam during his story, but he did curse a lot and threatened to drive back to the bar to finish what he'd started.
Sam could tell that Dean was more than a little furious by the time he'd finished talking. Dean had splinted Sam's fingers and engulfed them in a towel-wrapped ice pack without trouble, but his hands had shaken when he'd cleaned and covered the burn-mark on Sam's wrist. He knew Dean well enough to know that his hands had shaken out of anger. This time, however, Sam had known the anger wasn't directed at him but at the men that had hurt him. Sam almost felt sorry for them. Getting on the bad side of Dean Winchester was one thing, but getting on his bad side because you'd hurt his little brother was basically like signing your own death sentence. Those men should consider themselves lucky that Dean hadn't know the full extent of what had happened to Sam back at the bar.
Injuries having been taken care of, Sam had only one major issue left to deal with: his hair still stunk of beer. With his fingers splinted, it was gonna be a difficult task soaping in his hair on his own though. That's why Sam ended up seated on the edge of the bathtub while Dean took care of washing the beer-stench out of Sam's hair.
"Forcing beer on a kid…" Dean muttered heatedly while massaging shampoo into Sam's hair. "I'm gonna track those sons of bitches down and break every single piece of bone in their bodies."
Sam closed his eyes and let his brother rant. He was feeling more than a little drowsy, and the warm water combined with the feeling of Dean's fingers massaging his scalp didn't make him any less tired. By the time Dean was drying off his hair with a towel, Sam could barely keep his head lifted. It kept dropping down to his chest and, had it not been for the hold Dean had of him, Sam would have fallen over a long time ago.
"Come on, Captain Snooze." Dean chuckled and guided Sam out of the bathroom and into bed.
Sam let Dean pull a clean, long-sleeved shirt over his head. He was half-asleep when Dean guided his arms through the sleeves and made him swallow some painkillers, before tucking him in. The last thing Sam was aware of before sleep claimed him, was the feeling of Dean's fingers brushing through his hair.
_ SPN _
The following morning, Sam woke up to the sound of his brother's voice as Dean was on the phone with their dad. Pretending to still be asleep, Sam listened to Dean's side of the conversation, and felt a pang of guilt when he realized they were arguing over him.
"I know we were supposed to head straight to Sheridan… Yes, I know the hunt is important Dad, and we'll be there as soon as possible with the stuff you need." Sam heard Dean say. "But Sam needed first-aid and I couldn't do that on the road."
Sam heard Dean's footsteps come closer, and made sure his breathing was as even as possible so Dean wouldn't realize he was actually awake.
"Yes, I did… A couple of broken fingers, a burn mark, and possibly a broken nose." Dean said. "Yeah, don't worry. I beat the shit out of them."
Sam felt a little relieved. Although seeming to be pissed that he and Dean would be more delayed than they already were, Dad had at least wanted to know how Sam was doing. That might sound like a mundane thing but, although Sam didn't question his father's love, John Winchester wasn't exactly parent of the year. He left most of the touchy-feely stuff to Dean.
"Okay… Yes, sir. We will… Bye." There was a beeping sound as Dean hung up the phone.
"You can open your eyes, Sammy. I know you're awake." He said.
Sam blinked his eyes open to see Dean staring down at him with raised eyebrows and arms crossed in front of his chest.
"How did you know?" Sam asked, voice raspier than normal this morning.
"I know everything." Dean said which earned him a glare from Sam.
"So… How pissed off was he?" Sam wanted to know as Dean sat down on the edge of Sam's bed.
"It wasn't too bad." Dean dismissed and changed the subject. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired. And a little cold." Sam admitted and tried to clear his sore throat. "When are we heading back on the road?"
"After breakfast." Dean answered.
Dean then put his palm on Sam's forehead and frowned down at him.
"I think you have a fever." Dean said with a sigh. "Your cold's probably back with a vengeance."
"Sorry." Sam muttered.
"Not your fault. But we're heading to Wyoming today no matter what - Dad's orders. You can rest up in the car." Dean said.
"Okay, Dean." Sam accepted with a yawn.
Dean patted his shoulder and moved off the bed. As Dean disappeared into the bathroom, Sam suddenly remembered there was something he'd wanted to ask his brother the night before.
"Hey Dean?" He asked.
"Yeah?" Dean responded as he reappeared from the bathroom with the first aid kit in his hand.
"What took you so long last night at the bar? And what was it Dad wanted you to pick up?" Sam asked.
"Well…" Dean started - then hesitated for a moment while scratching the back of his head. "It was… Well, it was some sort of drug."
"What?" Sam said - eyes wide as he definitely didn't expect that answer.
"Dad needs it for the hunt. It's apparently the only way to take out the creature he's hunting." Dean explained. "It's a pretty rare type of drug and Dad found this guy who deals with it. He wanted me to pay the guy and bring the drug with me to Wyoming. But apparently, the guy had another client who wanted a chunk of the drug too, and he'd only brought enough for one person. We decided to gamble for it. Whoever beat the other one in a game of pool, got the drug - which I did. I'm sorry I left you for so long though. I shouldn't have done that."
"It's okay, Dean." Sam said but Dean shook his head.
"No, it's not." Dean disagreed. "It's my fault that you came looking for me, and ended up being attacked by those assholes in the process."
"Dean, you couldn't have known." Sam tried to assure, but his brother didn't seem convinced.
Dean washed a hand down his face and went back to packing the duffels - obviously done talking about the subject for now. Sam decided to let the matter go for this time being but promised himself to bring it up again on their way to Sheridan to hopefully convince his brother that what had happened to Sam wasn't his fault. Sam hated when Dean blamed himself for things that was out of his control - especially when Sam was a part of the equation. To Sam, Dean was the best big brother anyone could wish for, and Sam vowed to himself to do anything in his power to make Dean believe it as well.
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THE END
Rating: K+
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Word count: ~5700
Summary: Sam gets into trouble while waiting for his big brother outside a bar. Hurt!Sick!Sam and Protective!Bigbrother!Dean. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.
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Their orders had been simple enough: pick up the item for Dad at the bar - then drive straight to Sheridan, Wyoming to catch up with their father and help out on the next hunt. That's why Sam was more than a little surprised when Dean didn't steer the car onto the highway as he was supposed to, but instead pulled up in front of a motel just outside of town.
"Stay here. I'll be right back." Dean said and gave Sam's shoulder a mild squeeze before departing the car.
Sam, still pressing the bandana against his bleeding nose, nodded his answer, and then followed his brother from out of the corner of his eyes as Dean went inside the reception. The short drive from the bar to the motel had been silent - only interrupted by the sporadic cursing from Dean and the sound of his white-knuckled grip making the leather of the wheel squeak in protest. Dean was mad. No doubts about it. And Sam couldn't blame him. After all, he had left the car even though Dean had told him to stay inside it until he got back. Not only had he gone against his brother's instructions, Sam had also gotten himself into trouble in the process.
Sam pinched his aching nose a little tighter. As his eyes watered it wasn't from the pain alone, but also because the thought of Dean being angry with him hurt the thirteen-year-old more than anything else. Sam could deal with injuries and feeling like a failure in his father's eyes at times, but disappointing his big brother was a whole different matter. Trying to blink back the sting of tears, Sam completely missed the moment when Dean returned from the reception, and jumped as the car door suddenly opened.
"Okay, so I got us a… Whoa, easy Sammy!" Dean said, and quickly steadied Sam before he could fall out of the car. "It's just me."
Sam saw the concern in his brother's eyes, and felt even worse about himself. How could Dean still care so much about him after all the trouble Sam had caused this night? How could Dean still make Sam feel so loved when he continued to let Dean down time after time?
Sam's bottom lip started quivering. Despite biting his lip to try to hide it, the action didn't go by unnoticed by his big brother.
"Hey hey, none of that. Sam, come on." Dean said before he slid his hands underneath Sam's armpits, and lifted him out of the car and into his arms once more.
Sam wrapped his legs around Dean's hips and snaked one arm around his brother's neck - being mindful to still keep the bandana in place so that his blood wouldn't get all over Dean's shirt. He closed his eyes as he felt Dean rubbing his back on the way to the trunk of the car. It was impressive, really, how Dean managed to juggle one piece of upset little brother in one arm while at the same time picking up and carrying both of their duffel bags in the other one. But that was Dean for you - ever the superhero in Sam's eyes.
Sam knew he was getting too big to be carried around by Dean like this. Had their dad been there, he would have told Sam to walk on his own and scolded Dean for treating Sam like a baby. But Sam needed this right now. He needed to be enveloped in his big brother's warmth and to feel protected after what he'd just been through. Considering how Sam usually spent his days face-to-face with things that go bump in the night, it was kinda ridiculous how much he clung to Dean in this moment. However, Sam did tend to be clingy when he was hurt or sick, and this night counted for both. Deep down, he knew that Dean needed the closeness too - no matter how mad he was at Sam for not doing what he was supposed to do.
Dean unlocked the motel room door, pushed it open with his hip and kicked it closed behind them with his foot. Once inside, Dean headed straight for the bathroom and lowered Sam down to sit on the edge of the tub.
"Arms up." Dean said as he removed the blood-soaked bandana from Sam's nose and dropped it unceremoniously into the tub.
Sam lifted his arms and allowed his brother to pull the damp sweatshirt off him. He winced a little as the action jarred a few of his injuries, but he was grateful Dean at least removed it as gently as possible. The sweatshirt joined the bandana in the tub, and Sam nearly gagged from the mixed smell of blood and beer.
A calloused hand grasped Sam's chin and tilted his head back a little, and Sam squinted up at his brother as Dean examined his face.
"Shit, Sam." Dean mumbled with a shake of his head, angry lines once again appearing on the seventeen-year-old's face.
Dean let go of Sam's chin and moved away, and Sam stared miserably down at his feet. He heard the sound of the faucet turning on and off, and then pinched his nose as he realized crimson was still dripping from it.
"Here." Dean said, nudged Sam's hand away from his nose and replaced it with a wet washcloth.
Dean's other hand slipped behind Sam's neck, and his head was gently tilted back again as Dean tried to stop the flow of blood with the washcloth. From this angle, Sam couldn't look anywhere but at Dean's face. He noticed a blueish-purplish bruise on Dean's cheekbone that hadn't been there earlier in the day. Sam swallowed hard as he realized Dean must have gotten the bruise while defending Sam outside the bar. That was just another note to add to the list of things Sam felt guilty about this night.
Dean removed the washcloth for a moment and looked at Sam's nose with furrowed eyebrows. Sam heard him curse and saw him folding the damp cloth in half before Dean placed it on Sam's nose again.
"It might be broken." Dean said, face strained and tense. "Damn it! Will you clot already, you stupid blood?"
Dean pinched Sam's nose a little harder, which made Sam squirm in discomfort. Dean must have noticed because he almost immediately eased up a little and sent Sam an apologetic look.
"Wanna tell me what happened?" Dean then asked in a softer tone. "Did those assholes punch you?"
Sam shook his head slightly. He tried to avoid Dean's look, but his brother would have none of it. Moving so that Sam couldn't escape his scrutinizing gaze, Dean sent him a pointed look.
"I get outside the bar and see my little brother on the ground, bleeding, while some sons of bitches are seconds away from rearranging his face with a bottle…" Dean said - then paused and inhaled deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring. "And you reek of beer. So tell me what happened - and don't say 'nothing' because I know that's not true."
Sam hesitated for a moment while Dean kept looking expectantly at him, demanding an answer.
"You're mad." Sam muttered, his voice sounding rather nasal because of his pinched nose.
"Damn right, I'm mad!" Dean practically shouted, which made Sam jump.
That only resulted in more pain emerging from Sam's nose since Dean still had a good grip of it, and the younger brother groaned. His queasy stomach (that had started acting up during the car ride) suddenly churned violently, and Sam started making gagging noises. Dean, always one step ahead when it came to Sam, swiftly took action and, a moment later, Sam found himself bent over the toilet.
"Easy, Sammy. Take it easy." Dean comforted as Sam spilled the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.
However, once started, Sam got himself so worked up that he had a hard time stopping again. He continued to retch - even when he'd got nothing left inside his stomach but bile - and the bitter taste of it didn't make him feel any less nauseous. A combination of puke and the blood from Sam's nose dripped from his chin and into the toilet.
"Dean." Sam cried and clenched the fabric of his brother's jeans - his face wet with tears. "I'm sorry."
Dean, who'd kept one arm around Sam's chest and a hand on his forehead the entire time Sam was retching, gently pulled him away from the toilet until Sam was slumping against Dean's chest.
"Don't worry about it, kiddo." Dean soothed, wiping Sam's face with a towel - then took care of the bleeding nose once more.
Resting against his brother's chest, Sam's nausea subsided a little. He was still upset though - chest aching with the need to make Dean understand his actions, and to be forgiven for going against Dean's orders.
"I s-shouldn't have left the car. I know I shouldn't." Sam confessed in a voice shaky and hoarse from the heaving. "But you said you'd only be gone a few minutes, and then you d-didn't come back and I was worried. So I went to look for you and then these guys came out of the bar and… and…"
Sam both heard and felt Dean's heavy sigh behind him as he struggled to find the words he needed to get off his chest.
"Sam…" Dean began but Sam had already started talking once more.
"I know you're mad at me, but I didn't mean to get in trouble. I just wanted to find you and make sure you were okay. I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry." Sam said - once again struggling against threatening tears.
"Whoa whoa, hang on a minute." Dean then said and maneuvered Sam around until the brothers faced each other. "Is that seriously what you think? That I'm mad at you?"
Sam nodded and tried to dodge his brother's look but Dean, as always, managed to bring Sam's focus back to his face. The incredulous expression, he saw on Dean's face, caught Sam by surprise and confused him. Where was the anger he'd thought he would see there?
"Am I happy that you left the car? No, I'm not, and we'll talk about that later." Dean said. "But mad at you? I don't know how you got that into that geeky brain of yours, but Sammy… I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at those bastards that did this to you!"
Sam took in the genuine look on Dean's face, and something finally loosened inside his chest as Sam nodded in acceptance. He felt immensely relieved now that he knew Dean wasn't angry with him - although he still wasn't sure he deserved it. Dean nodded his head too in a mimic of Sam's, and then removed the towel to check on Sam's nose again.
"Looks like the damn bleeding finally stopped." Dean said, looking relieved.
Getting up from his crouched position on the floor, Dean flushed the toilet and closed the lid of it. He then made Sam sit down on it, left the bathroom and returned a few moments later with the first-aid kit. Sam watched as Dean pulled out a couple of cotton wool balls and some rubbing alcohol, and Sam squirmed a little in nervous anticipation. Dean soaked a wool ball in the alcohol, and Sam braced himself for the stinging he knew would come.
"Sit still." Dean told him as he crouched down in front of Sam.
Sam hissed as Dean started dabbing at the scrapes he'd gotten when he'd face-planted in front of the bar. When he tried to twist away from the stinging pain, Dean held his head in place - however, Dean eased up every now and then to allow Sam a break from the pain before continuing.
"You hurt anywhere else?" Dean wanted to know.
"My fingers." Sam answered and held up his left hand for Dean to see.
"Shit!" Dean gasped when he saw the state of Sam's ring- and middle finger - both colored blue and swollen to twice their normal size.
Dean prodded the fingers a bit but stopped the moment Sam gasped in pain.
"Sorry, sorry." Dean apologized, and Sam saw anger flash across his brother's face. "Oh Sam, these are definitely broken."
"Figured." Sam breathed out - then cradled his hurt hand against his chest the moment Dean let go of it.
His big brother grabbed some gauze and a roll of first-aid tape, and gently pried Sam's hand away from his chest. While Dean began the task of splinting the broken fingers - eyebrows furrowed in concentration - Sam finally told Dean the full story about what had happened outside the bar. His brother didn't interrupt Sam during his story, but he did curse a lot and threatened to drive back to the bar to finish what he'd started.
Sam could tell that Dean was more than a little furious by the time he'd finished talking. Dean had splinted Sam's fingers and engulfed them in a towel-wrapped ice pack without trouble, but his hands had shaken when he'd cleaned and covered the burn-mark on Sam's wrist. He knew Dean well enough to know that his hands had shaken out of anger. This time, however, Sam had known the anger wasn't directed at him but at the men that had hurt him. Sam almost felt sorry for them. Getting on the bad side of Dean Winchester was one thing, but getting on his bad side because you'd hurt his little brother was basically like signing your own death sentence. Those men should consider themselves lucky that Dean hadn't know the full extent of what had happened to Sam back at the bar.
Injuries having been taken care of, Sam had only one major issue left to deal with: his hair still stunk of beer. With his fingers splinted, it was gonna be a difficult task soaping in his hair on his own though. That's why Sam ended up seated on the edge of the bathtub while Dean took care of washing the beer-stench out of Sam's hair.
"Forcing beer on a kid…" Dean muttered heatedly while massaging shampoo into Sam's hair. "I'm gonna track those sons of bitches down and break every single piece of bone in their bodies."
Sam closed his eyes and let his brother rant. He was feeling more than a little drowsy, and the warm water combined with the feeling of Dean's fingers massaging his scalp didn't make him any less tired. By the time Dean was drying off his hair with a towel, Sam could barely keep his head lifted. It kept dropping down to his chest and, had it not been for the hold Dean had of him, Sam would have fallen over a long time ago.
"Come on, Captain Snooze." Dean chuckled and guided Sam out of the bathroom and into bed.
Sam let Dean pull a clean, long-sleeved shirt over his head. He was half-asleep when Dean guided his arms through the sleeves and made him swallow some painkillers, before tucking him in. The last thing Sam was aware of before sleep claimed him, was the feeling of Dean's fingers brushing through his hair.
_ SPN _
The following morning, Sam woke up to the sound of his brother's voice as Dean was on the phone with their dad. Pretending to still be asleep, Sam listened to Dean's side of the conversation, and felt a pang of guilt when he realized they were arguing over him.
"I know we were supposed to head straight to Sheridan… Yes, I know the hunt is important Dad, and we'll be there as soon as possible with the stuff you need." Sam heard Dean say. "But Sam needed first-aid and I couldn't do that on the road."
Sam heard Dean's footsteps come closer, and made sure his breathing was as even as possible so Dean wouldn't realize he was actually awake.
"Yes, I did… A couple of broken fingers, a burn mark, and possibly a broken nose." Dean said. "Yeah, don't worry. I beat the shit out of them."
Sam felt a little relieved. Although seeming to be pissed that he and Dean would be more delayed than they already were, Dad had at least wanted to know how Sam was doing. That might sound like a mundane thing but, although Sam didn't question his father's love, John Winchester wasn't exactly parent of the year. He left most of the touchy-feely stuff to Dean.
"Okay… Yes, sir. We will… Bye." There was a beeping sound as Dean hung up the phone.
"You can open your eyes, Sammy. I know you're awake." He said.
Sam blinked his eyes open to see Dean staring down at him with raised eyebrows and arms crossed in front of his chest.
"How did you know?" Sam asked, voice raspier than normal this morning.
"I know everything." Dean said which earned him a glare from Sam.
"So… How pissed off was he?" Sam wanted to know as Dean sat down on the edge of Sam's bed.
"It wasn't too bad." Dean dismissed and changed the subject. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired. And a little cold." Sam admitted and tried to clear his sore throat. "When are we heading back on the road?"
"After breakfast." Dean answered.
Dean then put his palm on Sam's forehead and frowned down at him.
"I think you have a fever." Dean said with a sigh. "Your cold's probably back with a vengeance."
"Sorry." Sam muttered.
"Not your fault. But we're heading to Wyoming today no matter what - Dad's orders. You can rest up in the car." Dean said.
"Okay, Dean." Sam accepted with a yawn.
Dean patted his shoulder and moved off the bed. As Dean disappeared into the bathroom, Sam suddenly remembered there was something he'd wanted to ask his brother the night before.
"Hey Dean?" He asked.
"Yeah?" Dean responded as he reappeared from the bathroom with the first aid kit in his hand.
"What took you so long last night at the bar? And what was it Dad wanted you to pick up?" Sam asked.
"Well…" Dean started - then hesitated for a moment while scratching the back of his head. "It was… Well, it was some sort of drug."
"What?" Sam said - eyes wide as he definitely didn't expect that answer.
"Dad needs it for the hunt. It's apparently the only way to take out the creature he's hunting." Dean explained. "It's a pretty rare type of drug and Dad found this guy who deals with it. He wanted me to pay the guy and bring the drug with me to Wyoming. But apparently, the guy had another client who wanted a chunk of the drug too, and he'd only brought enough for one person. We decided to gamble for it. Whoever beat the other one in a game of pool, got the drug - which I did. I'm sorry I left you for so long though. I shouldn't have done that."
"It's okay, Dean." Sam said but Dean shook his head.
"No, it's not." Dean disagreed. "It's my fault that you came looking for me, and ended up being attacked by those assholes in the process."
"Dean, you couldn't have known." Sam tried to assure, but his brother didn't seem convinced.
Dean washed a hand down his face and went back to packing the duffels - obviously done talking about the subject for now. Sam decided to let the matter go for this time being but promised himself to bring it up again on their way to Sheridan to hopefully convince his brother that what had happened to Sam wasn't his fault. Sam hated when Dean blamed himself for things that was out of his control - especially when Sam was a part of the equation. To Sam, Dean was the best big brother anyone could wish for, and Sam vowed to himself to do anything in his power to make Dean believe it as well.
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THE END