Lights Will Guide You Home 2/4
“Sammy…”
A million thoughts flooded Dean’s mind. His head and his heart both competing to draw a conclusion from the scene in front of him. His heart desperately wanted to believe that his baby brother had someone found a route out of hell and was really lying on his front porch. But his head kept butting in with the idea that this couldn’t possibly be Sam. It had to be some demonic bastard wearing Sammy’s skin around to torment Dean…That’s all it could be…
Dean gulped down his emotions so that he could better assess the situation. One way or the other, Dean was going to have to decide if this was really Sam or something else, and there was honestly only one way he was going to find out for sure. Running a hand through his cropped hair, Dean slid back inside to grab his leather jacket, which concealed a silver blade and a flask of holy water. He almost slid on the ice on his way back to the figure that he hoped truly was his brother. Dean knelt down onto the porch, not even noticing the frosty snow soaking through his jean clad knees.
Taking in the blood that was soaking through the clothes, Dean hated to add even more damage if this really was his brother. However, he was left with absolutely no choice. He pushed the sleeves of the shirts and jacket up; Dean cursed quietly at how frozen the skin underneath felt. He pulled the silver blade out from his jacket and cut across the prone figure’s arm. A flinch and slight whimper was the only response. The skin didn’t sizzle or smoke…nothing at all.
With a glimmer of hope, Dean unscrewed the flask and poured a good amount of holy water down on the cut. Once again, nothing happened.
Tears welled up in Dean’s eyes and a huge smile spread across his face. “Oh my God…” It really is Sammy!!
The wind picked up again, sending the freezing flakes into his face and reminding him just how much trouble his brother was in at the moment. Dean had no idea how long Sam had been exposed to the frigid conditions. He was also clueless of the extent of the injuries marring his brother’s body; Dean could only see the blood soaking Sam’s clothes and the snow. Dean reached down to grab Sam around the shoulders. Ice had formed around the wet patches on the fabric.
“Aww…Damn it!”
Dean hurried to pull Sam off of the cold snow of the porch. His hands slipped, causing his limp brother to nearly crash back down onto the steps. “Son of bitch,” Dean cursed under his breath. He carefully hauled his brother up and over his shoulder. He stumbled a little underneath the weight, but noticed that his brother seemed lighter than he had prior to his showdown with Lucifer. Nonetheless, his brother was still solid muscle, which weighed a freaking ton on Dean’s shoulders and back. The adrenaline and worry helped to lessen the bulk and allowed him to quickly carry the unconscious Sam to the leather couch in the middle of the living room.
The heat of the house was a welcoming presence for Dean, but he still shivered slightly from being outside for so long. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how much Sam would still be shivering. The threat of hypothermia seemed pretty likely right now. He thankfully noted that shivers wracked Sam’s frame. Shivering was good…it sucked but at least meant that he was at least a little out of the danger zone.
Dean also checked Sam’s pulse, the beats slightly sluggish under his fingers. Sam’s breathing appeared a bit ragged; Dean mentally noted to check for fractured ribs. Feeling that Sam would be ok for a minute, Dean ran to the bathroom to find the large first aid kit he had stashed there, along with some towels and washcloths. He stumbled back down the hall and into the living room, nearly upsetting a lamp on an end table.
“Ok buddy,” Dean knelt down beside the couch, “let’s see what mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” Dean pulled off the freezing wet clothes from his brother’s torso. Purple and yellowish bruises appeared from under the ruined shirt. Blood flowed down onto the soft leather of the couch. “Damn kiddo…what the hell happened to you?”
Large gashes ran across Sam’s ribcage and around to his back; they almost looked like claw marks. Dean carefully prodded around the gashes and the bruises. He pushed down on his brother’s ribs, feeling for the telltale signs of fractured ribs. Sam moaned and unconsciously shied away from Dean’s hand.
“It’s ok, Sammy. I’ve got ya.” Dean moved his hand from Sam’s fractured ribs to cup Sam’s cheek, mindful of the bruise forming there. Sam turned into the touch, but did not wake. Dean smiled and said a silent prayer that his brother would stay out of it for just a little longer. The gashes didn’t look deep enough to warrant stitches, but they definitely needed cleaned. And peroxide on a fresh wound hurt like bitch no matter how gentle your caretaker was.
Dean grabbed one of the towels and used it to wipe away the blood and melted snow from Sam’s torso. He then slid Sam’s jeans off, throwing them to the floor. Sam shivered as the air met his exposed skin, causing Dean to hurry with his assessment of his battered brother.
Sam’s ankle looked bruised and swollen; the skin felt slightly warmer to the touch compared to the rest of Sam’s chilly skin. The bone felt intact at least. Dean dried his brother off with the other towel and covered the lower half of his body with a fleece blanket from the back of the couch. He quickly inspected Sam’s head for any bruises or knots that could indicate a concussion. Besides the large bruise on his cheek, Dean couldn’t find any real signs of concussion. A quick check of Sam’s pupils confirmed his initial thoughts.
Sam’s shoulders and arms seemed to be undamaged as well. However, Dean quickly noticed burns and cuts around Sam’s right hand and wrist. After sorting through the contents of the first aid kit, the older brother cleaned up the area, applied some burn cream and antibiotic ointment, and swiftly wrapped gauze around the hand and wrist.
Dean then moved to work on Sam’s torso, which held the more serious injuries. He poured a helping amount of peroxide onto Sam’s gashes, using a washcloth to prevent the blood and liquid from pooling on the couch. Sam shifted and whimpered from the pain the peroxide obviously caused.
“Shh…” Dean tried to sooth. He moved one hand to card it through Sam’s damp hair. “You’re ok kiddo. Just take it easy.” Dean once again prayed his brother would remain unconscious while he finished cleaning and patching him up. Sam quickly settled under Dean’s hand, allowing him to go back to work.
The bleeding took longer than Dean liked to stop, but it finally succumbed to his ministrations. He pulled gauze, bandages, and medical tape out from the kit to dress the ugly wounds. He then pulled out an ace bandage to bind the sprained and bruised ankle. Once he had that secured, Dean ran to the bedroom for more blankets and sweats to put on his brother. He wrangled the pants and hoodie around Sam’s limp limbs before wrapping him in a cocoon of soft blankets. Dean quickly checked the heat and turned on the gas fireplace.
Knowing that the bruises around Sam’s back, chest and stomach would cause a great deal of discomfort, Dean maneuvered pillows under his brother. Dean was never more thankful that Lisa had a freakishly big couch in the living room. Afterwards he managed to force feed his brother some painkillers.
Satisfied that there wasn’t much else he could do for his brother other than wait and watch, Dean settled into the armchair across from the couch to do just that. His mind raced with questions as he looked up and down Sam’s tall form. But at the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much about the answers. Right now he had a job to do…watch over his little brother.
Next Chapter
A million thoughts flooded Dean’s mind. His head and his heart both competing to draw a conclusion from the scene in front of him. His heart desperately wanted to believe that his baby brother had someone found a route out of hell and was really lying on his front porch. But his head kept butting in with the idea that this couldn’t possibly be Sam. It had to be some demonic bastard wearing Sammy’s skin around to torment Dean…That’s all it could be…
Dean gulped down his emotions so that he could better assess the situation. One way or the other, Dean was going to have to decide if this was really Sam or something else, and there was honestly only one way he was going to find out for sure. Running a hand through his cropped hair, Dean slid back inside to grab his leather jacket, which concealed a silver blade and a flask of holy water. He almost slid on the ice on his way back to the figure that he hoped truly was his brother. Dean knelt down onto the porch, not even noticing the frosty snow soaking through his jean clad knees.
Taking in the blood that was soaking through the clothes, Dean hated to add even more damage if this really was his brother. However, he was left with absolutely no choice. He pushed the sleeves of the shirts and jacket up; Dean cursed quietly at how frozen the skin underneath felt. He pulled the silver blade out from his jacket and cut across the prone figure’s arm. A flinch and slight whimper was the only response. The skin didn’t sizzle or smoke…nothing at all.
With a glimmer of hope, Dean unscrewed the flask and poured a good amount of holy water down on the cut. Once again, nothing happened.
Tears welled up in Dean’s eyes and a huge smile spread across his face. “Oh my God…” It really is Sammy!!
The wind picked up again, sending the freezing flakes into his face and reminding him just how much trouble his brother was in at the moment. Dean had no idea how long Sam had been exposed to the frigid conditions. He was also clueless of the extent of the injuries marring his brother’s body; Dean could only see the blood soaking Sam’s clothes and the snow. Dean reached down to grab Sam around the shoulders. Ice had formed around the wet patches on the fabric.
“Aww…Damn it!”
Dean hurried to pull Sam off of the cold snow of the porch. His hands slipped, causing his limp brother to nearly crash back down onto the steps. “Son of bitch,” Dean cursed under his breath. He carefully hauled his brother up and over his shoulder. He stumbled a little underneath the weight, but noticed that his brother seemed lighter than he had prior to his showdown with Lucifer. Nonetheless, his brother was still solid muscle, which weighed a freaking ton on Dean’s shoulders and back. The adrenaline and worry helped to lessen the bulk and allowed him to quickly carry the unconscious Sam to the leather couch in the middle of the living room.
The heat of the house was a welcoming presence for Dean, but he still shivered slightly from being outside for so long. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how much Sam would still be shivering. The threat of hypothermia seemed pretty likely right now. He thankfully noted that shivers wracked Sam’s frame. Shivering was good…it sucked but at least meant that he was at least a little out of the danger zone.
Dean also checked Sam’s pulse, the beats slightly sluggish under his fingers. Sam’s breathing appeared a bit ragged; Dean mentally noted to check for fractured ribs. Feeling that Sam would be ok for a minute, Dean ran to the bathroom to find the large first aid kit he had stashed there, along with some towels and washcloths. He stumbled back down the hall and into the living room, nearly upsetting a lamp on an end table.
“Ok buddy,” Dean knelt down beside the couch, “let’s see what mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” Dean pulled off the freezing wet clothes from his brother’s torso. Purple and yellowish bruises appeared from under the ruined shirt. Blood flowed down onto the soft leather of the couch. “Damn kiddo…what the hell happened to you?”
Large gashes ran across Sam’s ribcage and around to his back; they almost looked like claw marks. Dean carefully prodded around the gashes and the bruises. He pushed down on his brother’s ribs, feeling for the telltale signs of fractured ribs. Sam moaned and unconsciously shied away from Dean’s hand.
“It’s ok, Sammy. I’ve got ya.” Dean moved his hand from Sam’s fractured ribs to cup Sam’s cheek, mindful of the bruise forming there. Sam turned into the touch, but did not wake. Dean smiled and said a silent prayer that his brother would stay out of it for just a little longer. The gashes didn’t look deep enough to warrant stitches, but they definitely needed cleaned. And peroxide on a fresh wound hurt like bitch no matter how gentle your caretaker was.
Dean grabbed one of the towels and used it to wipe away the blood and melted snow from Sam’s torso. He then slid Sam’s jeans off, throwing them to the floor. Sam shivered as the air met his exposed skin, causing Dean to hurry with his assessment of his battered brother.
Sam’s ankle looked bruised and swollen; the skin felt slightly warmer to the touch compared to the rest of Sam’s chilly skin. The bone felt intact at least. Dean dried his brother off with the other towel and covered the lower half of his body with a fleece blanket from the back of the couch. He quickly inspected Sam’s head for any bruises or knots that could indicate a concussion. Besides the large bruise on his cheek, Dean couldn’t find any real signs of concussion. A quick check of Sam’s pupils confirmed his initial thoughts.
Sam’s shoulders and arms seemed to be undamaged as well. However, Dean quickly noticed burns and cuts around Sam’s right hand and wrist. After sorting through the contents of the first aid kit, the older brother cleaned up the area, applied some burn cream and antibiotic ointment, and swiftly wrapped gauze around the hand and wrist.
Dean then moved to work on Sam’s torso, which held the more serious injuries. He poured a helping amount of peroxide onto Sam’s gashes, using a washcloth to prevent the blood and liquid from pooling on the couch. Sam shifted and whimpered from the pain the peroxide obviously caused.
“Shh…” Dean tried to sooth. He moved one hand to card it through Sam’s damp hair. “You’re ok kiddo. Just take it easy.” Dean once again prayed his brother would remain unconscious while he finished cleaning and patching him up. Sam quickly settled under Dean’s hand, allowing him to go back to work.
The bleeding took longer than Dean liked to stop, but it finally succumbed to his ministrations. He pulled gauze, bandages, and medical tape out from the kit to dress the ugly wounds. He then pulled out an ace bandage to bind the sprained and bruised ankle. Once he had that secured, Dean ran to the bedroom for more blankets and sweats to put on his brother. He wrangled the pants and hoodie around Sam’s limp limbs before wrapping him in a cocoon of soft blankets. Dean quickly checked the heat and turned on the gas fireplace.
Knowing that the bruises around Sam’s back, chest and stomach would cause a great deal of discomfort, Dean maneuvered pillows under his brother. Dean was never more thankful that Lisa had a freakishly big couch in the living room. Afterwards he managed to force feed his brother some painkillers.
Satisfied that there wasn’t much else he could do for his brother other than wait and watch, Dean settled into the armchair across from the couch to do just that. His mind raced with questions as he looked up and down Sam’s tall form. But at the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much about the answers. Right now he had a job to do…watch over his little brother.
Next Chapter