Fic: In Sickness And In Health (Part 1)
In Sickness And In Health
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Rating: M (sexual content, violence, language)
Word Count: 10,349 (Part 1 & 2)
Summary: A few months after the Darkness is released Sam and Dean go to clean up a mess leftover from a recent hunt. The brothers had been arguing lately, tensions high, but their love for each other undeniable. Sam has been hiding a sickness, and it forces itself into the open during a hunt. Dean is furious about having missed the signs that his brother was suffering, promising to pay better attention to him. But while Dean nurses Sam to health he becomes guilty of the same thing Sam had done to him; but as we all know when Dean hides something a silent storm brews, eventually unleashing it's fury with a vengeance.
Author's Note: This fanfic is the first one I've ever written. Please feel free to leave me some feedback! I'd love some critiques so I can improve.
Part 2
Chapter One: In Sickness And In Health
Dean's calloused hands wrapped around the steering wheel of the Impala, knuckles turning white from his death grip. The brothers were working a case involving a teenage vampire - a straggler from a case they had worked months ago. The boy must have been changed just a few days prior to the main nest being dismantled, meaning he didn't have anyone to teach him how to hunt, how to hide a body, how to survive his new life. The young vampire was extremely easy to track down. He had been hiding in a dense forest, using a hiking trail as his own personal buffet, his body count totaling to over fifteen (thirty two if you include the victims who had been drugged unconscious and found nearly drained, but still alive). The pair had been arguing the past few days over minuscule nonsense. Dean felt as if Sam was hiding something from him, and Sam immediately took the defensive. Even now, sitting in the Impala, Sam sat in the passenger seat completely twisted around so that he was facing the window. His pose looked painful, and it seemed as if he wanted it to be clear that he was trying to ignore his brother. Dean loved his brother with all his heart, and he knew Sam felt the same way. Fuck, they were both willing to die for each other. In fact, they had on more than one occasion. Dean couldn't articulate the reason why he got so short with Sam sometimes, but deep down he knew it was his own shit that he was projecting onto his brother.
Dean let out an annoyed sigh, glancing at Sam. "Sam, you know that I... when you get like this I... I'm just not sure - " Dean struggled to find the right words to explain his feelings. He ran a hand through his hair before slamming his fist into the steering wheel, accidentally punching the horn. His brother jumped up, surprised by the sudden noise, and Dean gave him an apologetic look. Sam looked down at his lap, his soft brown hair falling into his eyes. The younger of the pair had a pained expression on his face, right arm wrapped protectively across his abdomen. "Dean," he started, looking his brother in the eyes. Dean looked away in embarrassment about his sudden outburst, "I'm not mad at you. We have some things we need to work on but we can discuss that later. We have a case to work and people to save... That's all that matters right now." He tried to give his older brother a reassuring smile, but he just looked weak. Dean felt a twinge of guilt in his heart, chalking Sam's defensive words and pose up to emotional turmoil and general disappointment with him. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to his brother, hold him close and tell him that everything would be okay. But he was a Winchester, and not only do Winchesters never show weakness, they also don't taint their family name by holding each other close, sharing words and skin that they were taught is only meant to be shared with someone of the opposite sex.
It had been almost six months since the pair furthered their relationship. Dean had just been relieved of the mark of Cain, his feelings for Amara making him confused and scared, but also excited and more alive than he'd felt in years. After their experience in Lucifer's cage both men were down for the count. Sam's mind was beginning to crack, flashbacks racing through his brain faster than he could comprehend. Dean was physically beaten and bloody, body aching and head on fire. As soon as they returned to the bunker it was as if a switch had flipped. They were in the Impala, hips grinding, lips and tongues sloppily smashing against each other in a fit of passion. Deans heart was pounding in his chest, his mind wrapped up in an inner conflict - he's your brother, what the fuck is wrong with you, you're disgusting and your dad is rolling in his grave. The thoughts seems to egg him on, another chance to prove his dad wrong - you love him, your lives have never been and will never be normal, so what if society sees this as taboo? They think monsters are creations of fairytales and they all praise a god that abandoned them... he's mine and I am his. Heat, comfort, ecstasy, and a shared orgasam... Ever since that day their relationship had changed. Their love had matured, and now they shared a bed.
As the Impala pulled up to the gravel parking lot of the hiking trail Dean shut off his headlights, hoping to remain hidden. Vampires have excellent senses, meaning the young vamp they were hunting would likely be able to detect them from five miles away, but the brothers still wanted to attempt to stay hidden in the darkness. Both men silently got out of the car, flinching at the ancient creaking of the Impala's metal doors. They mentally prepared themselves for the fight that quickly approached. Dean opened the trunk, handed a machete to Sam and placed his silver and white handgun in his waistband. He gave a look to Sam, nodded briskly, and began to stalk off into the woods. He and his brother had been staring at a map of these woods for days, their course etched into their minds. They made their way down the trail, coming up on the location that they determined was the epicenter of the vampire's killings. Dean took out the map and a flashlight, turning around towards Sam so they could look over their plan one more time.
Sam had fallen back quite a distance. He was still shuffling along but his arm was still wrapped around his stomach. Dean frowned, waiting for his brother to catch up. "Are you alright?" he asked, trying to distinguish the look his brother was giving him. Sam swallowed hard, "yeah I'm fine, let's just get this done." His words were thick, his skin pale, but he looked determined. The older brother could have sworn he saw Sam flinch, covering it up by pretending he was fussing with the zipper on his jacket. Dean hesitated for a moment but he eventually gave in and unfurled the map. "The sonofabitch should be right up ahead," he began, shining the flashlight on a large X on the map. "We'll try to take him by surprise." Dean shined the flashlight at Sam's face. "... You mean like this?" He heard an unfamiliar voice drawl. Dean jumped, startled, and shined his light over Sam's shoulder. The young vampire smirked, fangs unsheathed. He grabbed Sam by the waist, claws digging into the young hunter's skin, and flung him towards the nearest tree with ease. The younger man let out a yelp, his head banging against the trunk loudly. Deans face confronted with rage, his right hand gripping the handle of his machete.
As Dean had expected, the young vamp wasn't well trained and clearly wasn't experienced with combat. "Oh you fucking bitch," Dean hissed, glancing at his brother, anger bubbling in his stomach. He took a few steps towards the vamp, whose pale hands were stretched out, a dark grin on his face, fangs twinkling from the light coming from the flashlight on the ground. Sam began to recover, pulling himself up slowly, hand gripping his injured head. Seeing that his brother was stirring and alright, Dean threw a fake punch with his left hand at the young vamp's face, causing his hands to fly up to defend himself. Dean took that moment to strike, quickly slashing across the vampire's stomach with his blade. The young monster's face turned white, his expression one of shock and pain. He looked down, watching as his intestines began to spill from his body. His hands shakily tried to press his entrails back inside, blood spilling onto the ground in crimson waves. Dean quickly raised his arm, bringing it down quickly upon the vampire's neck, chopping his head clean off. The older hunter smirked, wiping his blade off on his jeans.
He turned to look at Sam, raking his brain for a good pun, but when he caught sight of his brother his heart jumped into his throat. Sam was doubled over next to a tree, his body leaning against the trunk heavily. His right arm was wrapped around it, hanging on for dear life, while his left hand was braced against his knee. Sam made a horrible sound, a cross between a gag and a choke. He gasped for air, pitching forward involuntarily, a small stream of watery vomit burning his throat as it exited his mouth along with a painful retch. Dean sprinted to his brothers side, one hand grasping his brothers shoulder to stop him from collapsing, and the other gently rubbing his back, unsure of how else to help. Sam's legs buckled and he fell to the ground to his knees, his left hand breaking his fall. "F-Fuck," Sam spluttered, hands gripping the dirt and moss. "Woah, easy there!" Dean followed his brother to the ground, his lips pressed into a thin line. Sam involuntarily heaved forward again, this time bringing up a steady stream of semi digested coffee and water. He hungrily swallowed air, vomited again, and let out a choked off sob. Tears stung his eyes, wetting his face and making his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Sam spit on the ground, saliva clinging from his bottom lip in a long string, gagging again at the thought of what had just happened. The sound of the vampire's intestines hitting the ground echoed in his head, causing Sam to repeatedly dry heave while Dean frantically wracked his brain, how could he make this stop?! The younger man fell backwards onto his ass, ignoring the fact that he felt the damp dirt soaking into his pants.
Dean immediately cupped his brothers cheeks, wiping away his tears and assessing him for injuries. His head was bleeding, would likely need a few stitches, but it didn't seem severe enough to cause vertigo or vomiting. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently pressed it against Sam's wound. He flinched but raised a shaky hand to keep it in place. "What happened?" Dean pried, a bit harder than he had intended, instinctually going over Sam's body with his hands, looking for broken bones or blood. Sam groaned, both because he felt sick and because Dean had found him out. He screwed his eyes shut and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "That whole scene just made me feel sick, Dean, that's it," he nearly whispered, his body convulsed to the right, attempting to gag, but Sam stifled it. "I couldn't handle him.. him being... his injuries," Sam said miserably, trying to find a way to explain the situation without needing to utter the words 'intestines,' 'blood,' or 'beheading.' He curled into a tight ball, leaning his head against his knees. While this hunt had been particularly brutal, Sam notoriously had a stomach of steel, much more sturdy than even Dean's. In fact, Sam is usually the one to go rooting inside dead bodies while they're investigating at the morgue. It was very uncharacteristic of Sam to get sick so violently due to a disemboweled vamp. It wasn't uncommon for one of them to gag every now and then when coming face to face with the scent of decaying flesh, or when walking away from a hunt covered in blood that doesn't belong to you, but as far as Dean could remember neither of them had ever been made sick like this on a hunt. His younger brother, serial killer fanatic, getting so sick over some blood and guts?
"How long have you felt this way? Was it just a random wave of nausea?" Dean asked quickly, hands cupping Sam's face again, eyes filled with concern and unease. Sam's skin was pale, too pale. The younger man pulled a shaky hand through his hair, clammy palm making his strands stick up instead of smoothing them back. Dean began convincing himself that Sam's mind had finally broken, leaving his soul shattered and bruised. "I don't know... I guess I've felt off for a few days... It's just a headache and nausea... I'm fine Dean, really." Dean wasn't satisfied with that answer. "Have you eaten today?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Now that he thought about it he hadn't seen Sam eat in almost two days. Sam shook his head. "Fuck, Sam," Dean's face reddened, anger growing in his chest - but not at his sick brother, at himself. Dean had been so preoccupied with his own feelings and turmoil that he had been neglecting Sam, assuming he was taking care of himself since he's always been the more health conscious of the two. "Was this the first time you threw up?" Dean gently reached his hand up to Sam's forehead, feeling the immense heat radiating off of him. He winced, and Sam turned his head away from his brother, covering his face with his hands. "I've been throwing up since yesterday," he admitted, wanting to curl up and die of embarrassment. Sam was never one to complain when he was sick, probably because their dad would tell him to suck it up and deal with it like a man. Even now when he gets sick he feels ashamed to admit it. Dean felt another pang in his heart, wondering how he could have missed Sam vomiting for an entire day. But with that admission the gears in Dean's head began to click into place. Sam's distant behavior, disappearing into far off wings of the bunker, the way he was sitting in the Impala, falling behind while they hiked to find the vampire... It all made sense. Sam hadn't been upset with Dean, he was sick and trying to hide it.
Dean nodded slowly. "It's alright Sam, everyone gets sick. I'm going to take care of you," he cooed, gently wrapping his arm under Sam's armpit, prepared to help the larger man up. "Come on Samsquatch, we can't sit in this dirt all night." Dean helped Sam up, purposely navigating his brother away from the body on the ground, hoping to avoid round two of Sam getting sick. The hunters made their way down the trail, making it to the Impala without incident. Dean helped Sam into the car, strapping him in and planting a small kiss onto his brother's hot forehead. The fact that Sam had been hiding his illness made the elder hunter a bit pissed, especially considering that his younger brother was well aware of the fact that hiding a sickness or injury could get them killed during a hunt, but he decided to save that lecture for when Sam felt better. Dean slid into the drivers seat, revving his car into action. "Don't worry Sam, we'll be home soon," assuring both himself and his brother that everything would be okay.
--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--
Sam fell asleep quite quickly, but it was clear that it wasn't restful. Sweat seemed to pool off of him, his grey face pressed against the window. His head wound was steadily dripping blood, but not at an alarming rate. Dean began to grow even more worried for his kid brother, and considered stopping at a motel for the night, but they were only a few hours from the bunker. It could wait until they were able to sterilize their tools. After about an hour and a half Sam began to stir. He grimaced, a low, sick groan escaping his lips. Sam blinked his eyes open, looking to his brother. His eyes were red and glazed over, dark circles accentuating his hazel irises. "Dean..." he moaned, breath hitching in his throat, "Gonna be sick..." he slid upwards in his seat, pushing himself into a proper sitting position, hand pressed against his mouth. They were going 80 on the highway, no median or shoulders in sight. Dean had prepared for this. After his bout of smiting sickness a few months before he still had a small garbage can and bags in the back seat. He had put one together shortly before they got back on the road. Dean hastily grabbed the small can from the back seat, thrusting it into Sam's hands. He promptly dry heaved into the bag, swallowing thickly. "D-Dean... I d-don't want to..." he cried, clearly holding back the vomit that was attempting to surface.
Dean looked at this brother, giving him an encouraging look. "I know baby, but you need to. You'll feel better. I'd pull over and help you if I could but there's a lot of cars and no where to pull off to," he explained, taking one hand off the wheel and placing it on Sam's shoulder. Sam let out a silent sob, gagging over the basket, a small dribble of vomit hitting the bottom of the bag. Sam had enough time to gasp for air a few times before the next round of heaving began, his stomach painfully spasmed, violently sending up a wave of vomit. "There you go... Just let it happen... You'll feel better soon..." Dean promised, gripping his shoulder reassuringly. The sound of his brother throwing up made his stomach flip and his mouth water, and for a brief moment he thought he might get sick himself, but he held himself together. He'd always been a sympathy puker. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. As if Sam could read his mind he retched again, another wave of vomit splattering into the bag.
Up ahead the highway split into three lanes, a shoulder appearing on the right. Dean sighed, relieved. He slowly pulled over, turning to face Sam. He looked terrible. His face was sweaty, his hair plastered to his forehead by sweat and blood. He was shaking and looked too thin for his height. The smell in the car almost made Dean gag. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, rolling down the window. Sam quickly opened the car door, swinging his legs out, his head practically between his thighs. He dry heaved a few more times, stomach now totally empty. Dean gave him a few moments to compose himself, "alright Sam, are you done...?" He asked patiently, not wanting Sam to feel rushed. Sam's eyes were squeezed closed, a hand shakily being dragged across his face. He nodded, scared that if he opened his mouth to talk he'd get sick again. "Okay, that's good," Dean said gently. He helped Sam back into his seat, reaching out to touch Sam's face, trying to smooth back his damp hair, "are you feeling any better?" He searched his younger brother's face. Sam hesitated but eventually nodded. Dean reached over and took the basket from him, it was at least half way full. The way it sloshed made the back of his neck break out in a sweat. He opened his door and stepped out into the cool night air, appreciating the change of scenery (and smell). Instead of risking getting sick himself Dean pulled the entire bag from the basket and threw it off into the grass, environmental protection be damned. He made his way back to the car, opening another bag and placing it in the basket. He sat back behind the wheel and placed the basket in Sam's lap. Dean slowly slid across the bench seat, water bottle in hand. "I need you to drink some of this for me," he said lightly, taking off the lid and handing the bottle to Sam. He whined, giving a desperate look to Dean. "Please... I-I don't want t-to... I'll j-just throw it up..." Sam pleaded, so dehydrated that his eyes couldn't even form tears. "Sammy, just humor me and drink a little bit. If you do throw up again it'll be more painful if you have nothing in your stomach," Dean ran his hand down Sam's neck, wrapping his arms around his younger brothers shoulders and pulling him into an embrace.
Sam obliged, slumping down in his seat, allowing Dean to hold him. He felt small and childish but Dean's arms always made him feel safe. He took a few sips of water and then handed it to his older brother to put the cover back on. Dean rested his chin on the top of Sam's head, closing his eyes and wishing for them to magically appear home. He willed it, he begged and pleaded, but when he opened his eyes they were still in the Impala on the side of the highway. Dean sighed, letting go of his grip on Sam. "Don't worry baby, we'll be home soon," Dean kissed Sam's lips gently, not giving a shit about his sickness. He started up his car again, pulling back onto the highway, determined to get home so his brother could rest.
--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--
They arrived at the bunker about an hour later. Sam had slept uneasily for the rest of the car ride, but he managed to make it without getting sick again. Dean parked the Impala and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He was exhausted, unsure if the heavy feeling in his stomach was out of sympathy or if he was catching the same bug Sam had come down with. He silently moaned to himself, rolling his eyes deep into his head. He lifted up his head, looking wearily at Sam. He reached out for the young hunter's arm, giving it a slight tug. "Come on Sammy, we're home," he said slowly, watching as Sam began to shift in his seat. He was too weak to open his door and stand so Dean helped pull him out of the driver's side door. Sam leaned against his brother heavily, trying as hard as he could to stay upright. The pair made their way to the garage door, stepping into a hallway in the bunker. "Dean.. Bathroom... Now..." he was able to squeak out before flinging a hand over his mouth. But it was no use, all the water he had drank in the car made a painful reappearance. Sam doubled over, vomit spraying between his fingers, splattering onto the hallway floor. "Shit shit shit, alright Sammy, hold on," Dean said frantically, sprinting into the nearest room to grab a garbage can. By the time he made it back to Sam he had already vomited again on the floor. Sam had sank down the wall, sitting on the ground. He was slumped to the right, and he was throwing up between his hands. Luckily he was only throwing up water so the scene wasn't too gnarly, otherwise Dean would have gotten sick as well. He gave his twisting stomach a light rub, reminding himself that Sam needed his help more than he needed a toilet.
Dean thrusted the basket into Sam's hands, wincing at the sound of vomit hitting the bottom of the metal can. Dean couldn't hold it anymore, he was going to be sick. "Be right back, Sam, need to get some things," he said briskly, speed walking to the furthest bathroom he could make it to, hoping to avoid Sam hearing anything. He burst into the room, falling to his knees in front of the first toilet he saw. He gagged emptily over the bowl for almost five minutes, willing his body to get it over with so he could return to his brother who was actually sick. He got out a small bit of bile but his stomach seemed to quit after that, leaving a heavy sick feeling in his abdomen. Dean groaned, considered sticking his fingers down his throat, but then he remembered that Sam was hunched over in the hallway covered in his own vomit. Dean reached up and flushed the toilet, drying his tears on his elbow. The older hunter clambered to his feet, remembered the lie he told Sam about getting supplies, and made a quick pit stop in his room to grab the first aid kit and a blanket. He made his way back to Sam, hunching down next to his huddled form. "It's alright, Sammy, I'm here," he coddled him, reaching for his face for the fourth time that night. Sam looked up at him with weary eyes, seemingly slipping in and out of consciousness. "D'n?" he slurred, a drip of blood hitting the ground, "I don't feel good," he stated matter-of-factly as if Dean hadn't been there to witness the whole ordeal.
Seeing his brother in this state, sick and bleeding, opened the flood gates within Dean. "I know, I'm so sorry baby, I'm sorry I had to leave you like this, I'm sorry for all the fucking stupid shit I put you through, I'm sorry for what I did to you when I turned from the mark -" Dean let out a sob, tears spilling over onto his cheeks, unsure why he felt the sudden need to confess to his brother. Later, Dean would chalk it up the beginning of a fever. "I'm so fucking sorry Sammy, goddamnit," he punched the wall, the skin on his knuckles tearing, blood began to spill onto his hand. "I promise I'll never hurt you again, I'll never let you hurt again," the hunter said, a bit more loudly than he had intended. "But right now we need to fix you up," his voice was suddenly low and soft. Dean glanced over his shoulder, taking in the mess his brother had made on the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, making a silent promise to clean it in the morning. He helped Sam pull the blanket over his shoulders, then pulled his younger brother to his feet. The younger of the pair was out of it, unaware of anything that was happening around him. Dean made his way to their shared room, gently placing Sam on the bed. "This is going to hurt, baby, but I need to patch you up," he cooed, hands rooting through the first aid kit.
Sam's hand was covered in vomit. He withdrew some purell from the pack, slathering it over Sam's arm and his own hands until he was satisfied. Dean flinched at the stinging pain of the purell sinking into his swollen knuckles. He made a mental note to take a warm bath with Sam once they both got some rest. He withdrew a pre threaded sterile needle, preparing to stitch Sam's head wound. He pushed Sam's hair back, cleaning up his forehead with an alcohol wipe. His cut was red and angry, but the blood had began to coagulate. While Dean was happy that the cut was closing on it's own, that wasn't good news considering the wound needed to be clean in order to stitch it. He winced, pressing the alcohol pad into the wound out of necessity to free any dried blood. Sam gasped in pain, forced back into reality, eyes shooting open with shock. "I know baby, I know, but please stay still!" Dean grabbed Sam's arm before it reached up to his head. Sam made eye contact with Dean, giving him a knowing stare.
Dean nodded, continuing the job. The cut was clean so he began stitching, making five stitches in total. He knotted them off and threw the needle into the garbage. The hunter wasn't worried about his sliced knuckles or his roiling stomach, all that mattered was his Sam. He reached over and pressed the back of his hand to his brother's forehead, attempting to gauge how bad his fever was. Heat radiated off of his, causing him to shiver and shake as cold sweats wracked his body. He groped around in the first aid kit, looking for some tylenol and anti nausea medication. He took a few pills himself, swallowing them down without water. He grimaced but he was alright. Dean slid his hand under Sam's neck, lifting him up so he could swallow his medication properly. "Baby, I need you to take these pills, you're getting too warm," he placed the small pills into his brother's hand, holding up the water bottle for him to take. The younger man did as he was told, stomach loudly growing as the water began to fill his empty stomach. Dean made his way over to his dresser, quickly peeling off his dirty clothes and putting on a shirt, not bothering to put on any pants - boxers would have to do. He grabbed a shirt and sweatpants for Sam. He walked back over to Sam, letting his fingertips linger over his cheek. "Lets get you out of those clothes," he said gently, helping his brother remove his soiled shirt and pants, quickly replacing them with the clean pajamas. "I'm sorry, Dean..." Sam whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes, "I'm sorry I made a mess." Dean frowned, sitting next to his sick brother. "Sammy, it isn't your fault. Accidents happen. I'm just worried about you, you haven't been sick like this in a long time." Sam dried his tears, fever bleary eyes puffy and aching.
Sam gently took Dean's hand into his own, rolling over onto his side so he could attempt to sleep. The older hunter sighed, grabbing a fresh garbage can from another room to place underneath Sam so he wouldn't need to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night if he got sick again. He placed it next to Sam's side of the bed, and then crawled under the blanket next to his brother. He rubbed his younger brother's back with his injured hand, wishing he could take his pain away, even if it meant bearing it all on his own. "I love you, Sammy..." he muttered, pressing his lips against his lover's hair, "I just want you to know that." He blinked a tear from his eye, allowing himself to succumb to dreamless sleep.
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Rating: M (sexual content, violence, language)
Word Count: 10,349 (Part 1 & 2)
Summary: A few months after the Darkness is released Sam and Dean go to clean up a mess leftover from a recent hunt. The brothers had been arguing lately, tensions high, but their love for each other undeniable. Sam has been hiding a sickness, and it forces itself into the open during a hunt. Dean is furious about having missed the signs that his brother was suffering, promising to pay better attention to him. But while Dean nurses Sam to health he becomes guilty of the same thing Sam had done to him; but as we all know when Dean hides something a silent storm brews, eventually unleashing it's fury with a vengeance.
Author's Note: This fanfic is the first one I've ever written. Please feel free to leave me some feedback! I'd love some critiques so I can improve.
Part 2
Chapter One: In Sickness And In Health
Dean's calloused hands wrapped around the steering wheel of the Impala, knuckles turning white from his death grip. The brothers were working a case involving a teenage vampire - a straggler from a case they had worked months ago. The boy must have been changed just a few days prior to the main nest being dismantled, meaning he didn't have anyone to teach him how to hunt, how to hide a body, how to survive his new life. The young vampire was extremely easy to track down. He had been hiding in a dense forest, using a hiking trail as his own personal buffet, his body count totaling to over fifteen (thirty two if you include the victims who had been drugged unconscious and found nearly drained, but still alive). The pair had been arguing the past few days over minuscule nonsense. Dean felt as if Sam was hiding something from him, and Sam immediately took the defensive. Even now, sitting in the Impala, Sam sat in the passenger seat completely twisted around so that he was facing the window. His pose looked painful, and it seemed as if he wanted it to be clear that he was trying to ignore his brother. Dean loved his brother with all his heart, and he knew Sam felt the same way. Fuck, they were both willing to die for each other. In fact, they had on more than one occasion. Dean couldn't articulate the reason why he got so short with Sam sometimes, but deep down he knew it was his own shit that he was projecting onto his brother.
Dean let out an annoyed sigh, glancing at Sam. "Sam, you know that I... when you get like this I... I'm just not sure - " Dean struggled to find the right words to explain his feelings. He ran a hand through his hair before slamming his fist into the steering wheel, accidentally punching the horn. His brother jumped up, surprised by the sudden noise, and Dean gave him an apologetic look. Sam looked down at his lap, his soft brown hair falling into his eyes. The younger of the pair had a pained expression on his face, right arm wrapped protectively across his abdomen. "Dean," he started, looking his brother in the eyes. Dean looked away in embarrassment about his sudden outburst, "I'm not mad at you. We have some things we need to work on but we can discuss that later. We have a case to work and people to save... That's all that matters right now." He tried to give his older brother a reassuring smile, but he just looked weak. Dean felt a twinge of guilt in his heart, chalking Sam's defensive words and pose up to emotional turmoil and general disappointment with him. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to his brother, hold him close and tell him that everything would be okay. But he was a Winchester, and not only do Winchesters never show weakness, they also don't taint their family name by holding each other close, sharing words and skin that they were taught is only meant to be shared with someone of the opposite sex.
It had been almost six months since the pair furthered their relationship. Dean had just been relieved of the mark of Cain, his feelings for Amara making him confused and scared, but also excited and more alive than he'd felt in years. After their experience in Lucifer's cage both men were down for the count. Sam's mind was beginning to crack, flashbacks racing through his brain faster than he could comprehend. Dean was physically beaten and bloody, body aching and head on fire. As soon as they returned to the bunker it was as if a switch had flipped. They were in the Impala, hips grinding, lips and tongues sloppily smashing against each other in a fit of passion. Deans heart was pounding in his chest, his mind wrapped up in an inner conflict - he's your brother, what the fuck is wrong with you, you're disgusting and your dad is rolling in his grave. The thoughts seems to egg him on, another chance to prove his dad wrong - you love him, your lives have never been and will never be normal, so what if society sees this as taboo? They think monsters are creations of fairytales and they all praise a god that abandoned them... he's mine and I am his. Heat, comfort, ecstasy, and a shared orgasam... Ever since that day their relationship had changed. Their love had matured, and now they shared a bed.
As the Impala pulled up to the gravel parking lot of the hiking trail Dean shut off his headlights, hoping to remain hidden. Vampires have excellent senses, meaning the young vamp they were hunting would likely be able to detect them from five miles away, but the brothers still wanted to attempt to stay hidden in the darkness. Both men silently got out of the car, flinching at the ancient creaking of the Impala's metal doors. They mentally prepared themselves for the fight that quickly approached. Dean opened the trunk, handed a machete to Sam and placed his silver and white handgun in his waistband. He gave a look to Sam, nodded briskly, and began to stalk off into the woods. He and his brother had been staring at a map of these woods for days, their course etched into their minds. They made their way down the trail, coming up on the location that they determined was the epicenter of the vampire's killings. Dean took out the map and a flashlight, turning around towards Sam so they could look over their plan one more time.
Sam had fallen back quite a distance. He was still shuffling along but his arm was still wrapped around his stomach. Dean frowned, waiting for his brother to catch up. "Are you alright?" he asked, trying to distinguish the look his brother was giving him. Sam swallowed hard, "yeah I'm fine, let's just get this done." His words were thick, his skin pale, but he looked determined. The older brother could have sworn he saw Sam flinch, covering it up by pretending he was fussing with the zipper on his jacket. Dean hesitated for a moment but he eventually gave in and unfurled the map. "The sonofabitch should be right up ahead," he began, shining the flashlight on a large X on the map. "We'll try to take him by surprise." Dean shined the flashlight at Sam's face. "... You mean like this?" He heard an unfamiliar voice drawl. Dean jumped, startled, and shined his light over Sam's shoulder. The young vampire smirked, fangs unsheathed. He grabbed Sam by the waist, claws digging into the young hunter's skin, and flung him towards the nearest tree with ease. The younger man let out a yelp, his head banging against the trunk loudly. Deans face confronted with rage, his right hand gripping the handle of his machete.
As Dean had expected, the young vamp wasn't well trained and clearly wasn't experienced with combat. "Oh you fucking bitch," Dean hissed, glancing at his brother, anger bubbling in his stomach. He took a few steps towards the vamp, whose pale hands were stretched out, a dark grin on his face, fangs twinkling from the light coming from the flashlight on the ground. Sam began to recover, pulling himself up slowly, hand gripping his injured head. Seeing that his brother was stirring and alright, Dean threw a fake punch with his left hand at the young vamp's face, causing his hands to fly up to defend himself. Dean took that moment to strike, quickly slashing across the vampire's stomach with his blade. The young monster's face turned white, his expression one of shock and pain. He looked down, watching as his intestines began to spill from his body. His hands shakily tried to press his entrails back inside, blood spilling onto the ground in crimson waves. Dean quickly raised his arm, bringing it down quickly upon the vampire's neck, chopping his head clean off. The older hunter smirked, wiping his blade off on his jeans.
He turned to look at Sam, raking his brain for a good pun, but when he caught sight of his brother his heart jumped into his throat. Sam was doubled over next to a tree, his body leaning against the trunk heavily. His right arm was wrapped around it, hanging on for dear life, while his left hand was braced against his knee. Sam made a horrible sound, a cross between a gag and a choke. He gasped for air, pitching forward involuntarily, a small stream of watery vomit burning his throat as it exited his mouth along with a painful retch. Dean sprinted to his brothers side, one hand grasping his brothers shoulder to stop him from collapsing, and the other gently rubbing his back, unsure of how else to help. Sam's legs buckled and he fell to the ground to his knees, his left hand breaking his fall. "F-Fuck," Sam spluttered, hands gripping the dirt and moss. "Woah, easy there!" Dean followed his brother to the ground, his lips pressed into a thin line. Sam involuntarily heaved forward again, this time bringing up a steady stream of semi digested coffee and water. He hungrily swallowed air, vomited again, and let out a choked off sob. Tears stung his eyes, wetting his face and making his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Sam spit on the ground, saliva clinging from his bottom lip in a long string, gagging again at the thought of what had just happened. The sound of the vampire's intestines hitting the ground echoed in his head, causing Sam to repeatedly dry heave while Dean frantically wracked his brain, how could he make this stop?! The younger man fell backwards onto his ass, ignoring the fact that he felt the damp dirt soaking into his pants.
Dean immediately cupped his brothers cheeks, wiping away his tears and assessing him for injuries. His head was bleeding, would likely need a few stitches, but it didn't seem severe enough to cause vertigo or vomiting. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently pressed it against Sam's wound. He flinched but raised a shaky hand to keep it in place. "What happened?" Dean pried, a bit harder than he had intended, instinctually going over Sam's body with his hands, looking for broken bones or blood. Sam groaned, both because he felt sick and because Dean had found him out. He screwed his eyes shut and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "That whole scene just made me feel sick, Dean, that's it," he nearly whispered, his body convulsed to the right, attempting to gag, but Sam stifled it. "I couldn't handle him.. him being... his injuries," Sam said miserably, trying to find a way to explain the situation without needing to utter the words 'intestines,' 'blood,' or 'beheading.' He curled into a tight ball, leaning his head against his knees. While this hunt had been particularly brutal, Sam notoriously had a stomach of steel, much more sturdy than even Dean's. In fact, Sam is usually the one to go rooting inside dead bodies while they're investigating at the morgue. It was very uncharacteristic of Sam to get sick so violently due to a disemboweled vamp. It wasn't uncommon for one of them to gag every now and then when coming face to face with the scent of decaying flesh, or when walking away from a hunt covered in blood that doesn't belong to you, but as far as Dean could remember neither of them had ever been made sick like this on a hunt. His younger brother, serial killer fanatic, getting so sick over some blood and guts?
"How long have you felt this way? Was it just a random wave of nausea?" Dean asked quickly, hands cupping Sam's face again, eyes filled with concern and unease. Sam's skin was pale, too pale. The younger man pulled a shaky hand through his hair, clammy palm making his strands stick up instead of smoothing them back. Dean began convincing himself that Sam's mind had finally broken, leaving his soul shattered and bruised. "I don't know... I guess I've felt off for a few days... It's just a headache and nausea... I'm fine Dean, really." Dean wasn't satisfied with that answer. "Have you eaten today?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Now that he thought about it he hadn't seen Sam eat in almost two days. Sam shook his head. "Fuck, Sam," Dean's face reddened, anger growing in his chest - but not at his sick brother, at himself. Dean had been so preoccupied with his own feelings and turmoil that he had been neglecting Sam, assuming he was taking care of himself since he's always been the more health conscious of the two. "Was this the first time you threw up?" Dean gently reached his hand up to Sam's forehead, feeling the immense heat radiating off of him. He winced, and Sam turned his head away from his brother, covering his face with his hands. "I've been throwing up since yesterday," he admitted, wanting to curl up and die of embarrassment. Sam was never one to complain when he was sick, probably because their dad would tell him to suck it up and deal with it like a man. Even now when he gets sick he feels ashamed to admit it. Dean felt another pang in his heart, wondering how he could have missed Sam vomiting for an entire day. But with that admission the gears in Dean's head began to click into place. Sam's distant behavior, disappearing into far off wings of the bunker, the way he was sitting in the Impala, falling behind while they hiked to find the vampire... It all made sense. Sam hadn't been upset with Dean, he was sick and trying to hide it.
Dean nodded slowly. "It's alright Sam, everyone gets sick. I'm going to take care of you," he cooed, gently wrapping his arm under Sam's armpit, prepared to help the larger man up. "Come on Samsquatch, we can't sit in this dirt all night." Dean helped Sam up, purposely navigating his brother away from the body on the ground, hoping to avoid round two of Sam getting sick. The hunters made their way down the trail, making it to the Impala without incident. Dean helped Sam into the car, strapping him in and planting a small kiss onto his brother's hot forehead. The fact that Sam had been hiding his illness made the elder hunter a bit pissed, especially considering that his younger brother was well aware of the fact that hiding a sickness or injury could get them killed during a hunt, but he decided to save that lecture for when Sam felt better. Dean slid into the drivers seat, revving his car into action. "Don't worry Sam, we'll be home soon," assuring both himself and his brother that everything would be okay.
--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--
Sam fell asleep quite quickly, but it was clear that it wasn't restful. Sweat seemed to pool off of him, his grey face pressed against the window. His head wound was steadily dripping blood, but not at an alarming rate. Dean began to grow even more worried for his kid brother, and considered stopping at a motel for the night, but they were only a few hours from the bunker. It could wait until they were able to sterilize their tools. After about an hour and a half Sam began to stir. He grimaced, a low, sick groan escaping his lips. Sam blinked his eyes open, looking to his brother. His eyes were red and glazed over, dark circles accentuating his hazel irises. "Dean..." he moaned, breath hitching in his throat, "Gonna be sick..." he slid upwards in his seat, pushing himself into a proper sitting position, hand pressed against his mouth. They were going 80 on the highway, no median or shoulders in sight. Dean had prepared for this. After his bout of smiting sickness a few months before he still had a small garbage can and bags in the back seat. He had put one together shortly before they got back on the road. Dean hastily grabbed the small can from the back seat, thrusting it into Sam's hands. He promptly dry heaved into the bag, swallowing thickly. "D-Dean... I d-don't want to..." he cried, clearly holding back the vomit that was attempting to surface.
Dean looked at this brother, giving him an encouraging look. "I know baby, but you need to. You'll feel better. I'd pull over and help you if I could but there's a lot of cars and no where to pull off to," he explained, taking one hand off the wheel and placing it on Sam's shoulder. Sam let out a silent sob, gagging over the basket, a small dribble of vomit hitting the bottom of the bag. Sam had enough time to gasp for air a few times before the next round of heaving began, his stomach painfully spasmed, violently sending up a wave of vomit. "There you go... Just let it happen... You'll feel better soon..." Dean promised, gripping his shoulder reassuringly. The sound of his brother throwing up made his stomach flip and his mouth water, and for a brief moment he thought he might get sick himself, but he held himself together. He'd always been a sympathy puker. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. As if Sam could read his mind he retched again, another wave of vomit splattering into the bag.
Up ahead the highway split into three lanes, a shoulder appearing on the right. Dean sighed, relieved. He slowly pulled over, turning to face Sam. He looked terrible. His face was sweaty, his hair plastered to his forehead by sweat and blood. He was shaking and looked too thin for his height. The smell in the car almost made Dean gag. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, rolling down the window. Sam quickly opened the car door, swinging his legs out, his head practically between his thighs. He dry heaved a few more times, stomach now totally empty. Dean gave him a few moments to compose himself, "alright Sam, are you done...?" He asked patiently, not wanting Sam to feel rushed. Sam's eyes were squeezed closed, a hand shakily being dragged across his face. He nodded, scared that if he opened his mouth to talk he'd get sick again. "Okay, that's good," Dean said gently. He helped Sam back into his seat, reaching out to touch Sam's face, trying to smooth back his damp hair, "are you feeling any better?" He searched his younger brother's face. Sam hesitated but eventually nodded. Dean reached over and took the basket from him, it was at least half way full. The way it sloshed made the back of his neck break out in a sweat. He opened his door and stepped out into the cool night air, appreciating the change of scenery (and smell). Instead of risking getting sick himself Dean pulled the entire bag from the basket and threw it off into the grass, environmental protection be damned. He made his way back to the car, opening another bag and placing it in the basket. He sat back behind the wheel and placed the basket in Sam's lap. Dean slowly slid across the bench seat, water bottle in hand. "I need you to drink some of this for me," he said lightly, taking off the lid and handing the bottle to Sam. He whined, giving a desperate look to Dean. "Please... I-I don't want t-to... I'll j-just throw it up..." Sam pleaded, so dehydrated that his eyes couldn't even form tears. "Sammy, just humor me and drink a little bit. If you do throw up again it'll be more painful if you have nothing in your stomach," Dean ran his hand down Sam's neck, wrapping his arms around his younger brothers shoulders and pulling him into an embrace.
Sam obliged, slumping down in his seat, allowing Dean to hold him. He felt small and childish but Dean's arms always made him feel safe. He took a few sips of water and then handed it to his older brother to put the cover back on. Dean rested his chin on the top of Sam's head, closing his eyes and wishing for them to magically appear home. He willed it, he begged and pleaded, but when he opened his eyes they were still in the Impala on the side of the highway. Dean sighed, letting go of his grip on Sam. "Don't worry baby, we'll be home soon," Dean kissed Sam's lips gently, not giving a shit about his sickness. He started up his car again, pulling back onto the highway, determined to get home so his brother could rest.
--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--
They arrived at the bunker about an hour later. Sam had slept uneasily for the rest of the car ride, but he managed to make it without getting sick again. Dean parked the Impala and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He was exhausted, unsure if the heavy feeling in his stomach was out of sympathy or if he was catching the same bug Sam had come down with. He silently moaned to himself, rolling his eyes deep into his head. He lifted up his head, looking wearily at Sam. He reached out for the young hunter's arm, giving it a slight tug. "Come on Sammy, we're home," he said slowly, watching as Sam began to shift in his seat. He was too weak to open his door and stand so Dean helped pull him out of the driver's side door. Sam leaned against his brother heavily, trying as hard as he could to stay upright. The pair made their way to the garage door, stepping into a hallway in the bunker. "Dean.. Bathroom... Now..." he was able to squeak out before flinging a hand over his mouth. But it was no use, all the water he had drank in the car made a painful reappearance. Sam doubled over, vomit spraying between his fingers, splattering onto the hallway floor. "Shit shit shit, alright Sammy, hold on," Dean said frantically, sprinting into the nearest room to grab a garbage can. By the time he made it back to Sam he had already vomited again on the floor. Sam had sank down the wall, sitting on the ground. He was slumped to the right, and he was throwing up between his hands. Luckily he was only throwing up water so the scene wasn't too gnarly, otherwise Dean would have gotten sick as well. He gave his twisting stomach a light rub, reminding himself that Sam needed his help more than he needed a toilet.
Dean thrusted the basket into Sam's hands, wincing at the sound of vomit hitting the bottom of the metal can. Dean couldn't hold it anymore, he was going to be sick. "Be right back, Sam, need to get some things," he said briskly, speed walking to the furthest bathroom he could make it to, hoping to avoid Sam hearing anything. He burst into the room, falling to his knees in front of the first toilet he saw. He gagged emptily over the bowl for almost five minutes, willing his body to get it over with so he could return to his brother who was actually sick. He got out a small bit of bile but his stomach seemed to quit after that, leaving a heavy sick feeling in his abdomen. Dean groaned, considered sticking his fingers down his throat, but then he remembered that Sam was hunched over in the hallway covered in his own vomit. Dean reached up and flushed the toilet, drying his tears on his elbow. The older hunter clambered to his feet, remembered the lie he told Sam about getting supplies, and made a quick pit stop in his room to grab the first aid kit and a blanket. He made his way back to Sam, hunching down next to his huddled form. "It's alright, Sammy, I'm here," he coddled him, reaching for his face for the fourth time that night. Sam looked up at him with weary eyes, seemingly slipping in and out of consciousness. "D'n?" he slurred, a drip of blood hitting the ground, "I don't feel good," he stated matter-of-factly as if Dean hadn't been there to witness the whole ordeal.
Seeing his brother in this state, sick and bleeding, opened the flood gates within Dean. "I know, I'm so sorry baby, I'm sorry I had to leave you like this, I'm sorry for all the fucking stupid shit I put you through, I'm sorry for what I did to you when I turned from the mark -" Dean let out a sob, tears spilling over onto his cheeks, unsure why he felt the sudden need to confess to his brother. Later, Dean would chalk it up the beginning of a fever. "I'm so fucking sorry Sammy, goddamnit," he punched the wall, the skin on his knuckles tearing, blood began to spill onto his hand. "I promise I'll never hurt you again, I'll never let you hurt again," the hunter said, a bit more loudly than he had intended. "But right now we need to fix you up," his voice was suddenly low and soft. Dean glanced over his shoulder, taking in the mess his brother had made on the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, making a silent promise to clean it in the morning. He helped Sam pull the blanket over his shoulders, then pulled his younger brother to his feet. The younger of the pair was out of it, unaware of anything that was happening around him. Dean made his way to their shared room, gently placing Sam on the bed. "This is going to hurt, baby, but I need to patch you up," he cooed, hands rooting through the first aid kit.
Sam's hand was covered in vomit. He withdrew some purell from the pack, slathering it over Sam's arm and his own hands until he was satisfied. Dean flinched at the stinging pain of the purell sinking into his swollen knuckles. He made a mental note to take a warm bath with Sam once they both got some rest. He withdrew a pre threaded sterile needle, preparing to stitch Sam's head wound. He pushed Sam's hair back, cleaning up his forehead with an alcohol wipe. His cut was red and angry, but the blood had began to coagulate. While Dean was happy that the cut was closing on it's own, that wasn't good news considering the wound needed to be clean in order to stitch it. He winced, pressing the alcohol pad into the wound out of necessity to free any dried blood. Sam gasped in pain, forced back into reality, eyes shooting open with shock. "I know baby, I know, but please stay still!" Dean grabbed Sam's arm before it reached up to his head. Sam made eye contact with Dean, giving him a knowing stare.
Dean nodded, continuing the job. The cut was clean so he began stitching, making five stitches in total. He knotted them off and threw the needle into the garbage. The hunter wasn't worried about his sliced knuckles or his roiling stomach, all that mattered was his Sam. He reached over and pressed the back of his hand to his brother's forehead, attempting to gauge how bad his fever was. Heat radiated off of his, causing him to shiver and shake as cold sweats wracked his body. He groped around in the first aid kit, looking for some tylenol and anti nausea medication. He took a few pills himself, swallowing them down without water. He grimaced but he was alright. Dean slid his hand under Sam's neck, lifting him up so he could swallow his medication properly. "Baby, I need you to take these pills, you're getting too warm," he placed the small pills into his brother's hand, holding up the water bottle for him to take. The younger man did as he was told, stomach loudly growing as the water began to fill his empty stomach. Dean made his way over to his dresser, quickly peeling off his dirty clothes and putting on a shirt, not bothering to put on any pants - boxers would have to do. He grabbed a shirt and sweatpants for Sam. He walked back over to Sam, letting his fingertips linger over his cheek. "Lets get you out of those clothes," he said gently, helping his brother remove his soiled shirt and pants, quickly replacing them with the clean pajamas. "I'm sorry, Dean..." Sam whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes, "I'm sorry I made a mess." Dean frowned, sitting next to his sick brother. "Sammy, it isn't your fault. Accidents happen. I'm just worried about you, you haven't been sick like this in a long time." Sam dried his tears, fever bleary eyes puffy and aching.
Sam gently took Dean's hand into his own, rolling over onto his side so he could attempt to sleep. The older hunter sighed, grabbing a fresh garbage can from another room to place underneath Sam so he wouldn't need to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night if he got sick again. He placed it next to Sam's side of the bed, and then crawled under the blanket next to his brother. He rubbed his younger brother's back with his injured hand, wishing he could take his pain away, even if it meant bearing it all on his own. "I love you, Sammy..." he muttered, pressing his lips against his lover's hair, "I just want you to know that." He blinked a tear from his eye, allowing himself to succumb to dreamless sleep.