Author's note: Hi! It's my second story so far. I know the first one is not finished and all, I'm not dropping it. I set the deadline to the end of the year and it should really be finished by then. In the meantime, since I'm still searching for a beta, you can calm your hunger for stories with this one.

By the way, if anyone is willing to beta this or the other, just drop me a PM.

Summary: After a hunt's gone wrong, Sam leaves the crime scene with a really nasty head trauma. But soon he finds out the next consequences, and Dean is more than thrilled to improvise in order to save his brother's life.

Warnings: Swearing, some mild depictions of violence in this chapter. For any additional warnings: see the top of the chapter.

Disclaimer: I own neither of the characters nor any show-related stuff. Sniff-sniff.

Nowhere To Hide

"SAM!" Dean screamed in terror as he watched his brother being thrown against the wall on the opposite side of the room. A local legend, a ghost of Jimmy the Lumberjack, was staring at the oldest of the Winchester brothers with a nasty smile of satisfaction on his face. "You son of a bitch!" Dean yelled as he took a look at his brother; though conscious, Sam was definitely incoherent at the moment.

But the job had to be done, and it had to be done soon.

Dean hurried though the room to the next chamber, only hoping that the monster would follow. He really needed to find the corpse before someone else got hurt.

He flinched when the horrible smell of a decaying body hit him. A nasty, hideous, disgusting stink. Dean couldn't help but notice that though he should've been used to it, he wanted to flee any time he inhaled the distinctive odour. Usually, he left the job to Sam, excusing himself by taking a guard and walking around, the distance just accurate not to feel the scent. That's what younger brothers are for, right? He smiled at the thought.

But everyone had to deal with their fears at some point, and it was Dean's turn. Stepping cautiously, he grabbed a compact sack of salt from his pocket and threw it all over the body, trying not to lean over it more than necessary.

However, it was never that easy with Jimmy the Lumberjack. Even during his life, he was perceived as vengeful and particularly mean. So, as he became a ghost, he could finally fulfill his sick ambitions without a menace of penalty for the crimes. And no man was going to stop him.

He rushed through the hall, chasing the eldest Winchester. He knew that the easiest way to hurt this snobbish fop was to hit his little brother, but what's the fun if you have the leverage? No, the satisfaction comes from the hard work, his father used to say.

"Come to me, motherfucker," Dean hissed, discreetly hiding his left arm behind his back as he tightened the grip around the iron bar he was holding.

The figure was moving steadily, seeming to be more than certain about the fight's result. He didn't stop to smile craftily, his eyes fixed on Dean. As he was close enough to the man, he raised his arm in order to strike, but was surprised by the metal rod coming through his abdomen. He had managed to scream in terror and panic right before he disappeared.

Dean didn't wait until the iron took effect and ran as soon as he felt the bar encounter resistance. With one swift move he set the corpse on fire, making sure that the creature was truly gone.

"You okay?" Dean shouted across the room, sprinting to his barely conscious brother sitting in the corner of the dark room.

"I'll live," Sam moaned, allowing Dean to lift him up and support most of his weight. "Let's just get to the Impala."

They walked slowly, the older of the brothers always one step ahead, cautiously looking for any other danger that might have been willing to attack his younger sibling. Sam was hurt, and though he wouldn't admit it, he felt horrible and needed to rest as soon as possible.

At the end of the short hike Sam was almost a dead weight, gradually slipping into unconsciousness. Dean had let him lean against the car's trunk before he opened the door and positioned his brother along the back seat.

"Sammy, do you hear me?" he asked, seriously worried, yet remaining completely balanced.

His brother let out a small moan in response, either not coherent enough or in too much pain to answer the question. Dean murmured something illegible, once again making sure that his brother was as fine as he could be in the moment. He took a place behind the wheel and put the keys in the ignition, allowing the soft hum to calm his shattered nerves.

"Dean?"

The voice was quiet, almost completely silent. But it was more than enough for the older Winchester to make his heart clench.

He knew that whatever it was, it was bad. Because knocking this sasquatch out was never an easy task. Well, except for Dean. He'd trained him and knew his brother better than anyone, including each and every weak spot. But this time it was different – he was lying flat, completely vulnerable, the weak cry practically begging for his big brother's attention.

"Hold on, Sammy, we'll be there in a minute."

Dean didn't look back; he was racing long past the speed limit, and needed to be totally focused not to cause an accident. At least that was what he was telling himself as an excuse to his behaviour. In fact, he was more than terrified to see Sam like that and not to break, especially when there was no place to run away to.

"Try to stay awake, alright? This is very important." Dean said, voice loud and clear, insistently trying to hide from his brother how nervous he was. He didn't need to add any worries to Sam's condition.

"M'head hurts," Sam slurred. "Wha'appened?"

"You hit your head. Don't move, okay? I need to see what's wrong first."

Dean looked nervously on the watch steadily positioned on his left arm. "Come on," he mumbled to himself, attentively watching for the sign that signalled that the Rainbow Motel was half a mile ahead. He couldn't help a fade chuckle at the thought that such an old and dingy place could be even slightly related to rainbow.

A dim shape entered the horizon, and Dean immediately could tell that was what was looking for. He raised the corners of his mouth, his eyes immediately brighter and filled with good radiance. Hope.

"Sammy?" he asked tentatively as he twisted the steering wheel, the car arriving and stopping at the driveway.

"S'Sam."

"Okay, Sam." He got out of the car and shut the driver's door, simultaneously opening the back with a loud creak that made Sam flinch. "Sorry," he mumbled as he reached for his brother. "Can you walk?"

"Y-yeah, I think so." He pressed his arms against the seat for balance as his legs worked to pull him out of the car. He didn't object when Dean embraced him tightly and lifted him up until Sam was steady enough to stand on his own. "Okay. I'm good," he'd mumbled quietly before Dean released the grip, yet left a hand to guide him.

Sam hesitated, but finally raised his leg in order to make a step. With his feet still on the ground, he shifted it forward, inch after inch, his right hand holding Dean's tightly. And when he almost made it, when he'd done the majority of work, the world started spinning and the next thing he knew he was on the ground with his head resting on Dean's knees.

"You okay fellas?" He heard a raspy voice, probably directed towards Dean.

"We're fine," Dean hissed, grasping Sam's shoulder tighter.

Sam tried to tilt his head in order to see the man. He was curious why Dean had been so gruff, especially while being in his whole mother hen mode, but quickly regretted the idea as nausea embraced his body, twisting his stomach and leaving it upside-down. "I wanna puke…" he mumbled.

"Do you have a room here? He looks like he needs a bed."

Needless to say, Dean thought, but bit his tongue. "Sam, you alright to walk?" he asked instead.

Sam shut his eyes, hoping if he couldn't see the world spinning, it wouldn't spin. But he was a drowning man clutching at a straw; there was no way to run away from inevitable.

"No." He looked down in a defence gesture.

"Are you sure he doesn't need a check-up in some hospital? It looks pretty serious," the mysterious guy spoke up. "Listen, if you're not going to take him to any hospital, at least let's take him to his room."

"He's fine." Dean said with venom no one would have expected from him. "Just back the fuck off."

"Dean," Sam murmured weakly. "He's right."

The older Winchester's face turned red with anger, but he didn't flinch when the man approached Sam, offering a steady hand. "Dean…" Sam whined, waiting for his brother to react. Dean sighed and, with a little help of the stranger, he lifted Sam up and guided him to their room.

"We're okay now," Dean announced as soon as they crossed the doorstep. "I've got 'im."

The man didn't move an inch.

"It's fine, really," Sam responded. "Thanks." He smiled faintly.

The man lessened a grip until Sam completely lost contact with his arm. "I'm two doors to the left. If you need anything, you can always ask." He waited for Sam to nod, then disappeared behind the corner.

"What's wrong with you?" Sam asked after he was laid down on his bed. "He just wanted to help."

"Damn it, Sam, you wanted to let a marine in to a room full of illegal weapons," Dean explained.

"He was a marine?"

Dean sighed. "No, he was a male stripper dressed like a marine." Sam looked at him with a blank expression. "Try to get some sleep, you look like you need one."

Sam didn't protest, and within a minute he was drowning in a world where time and space were abstract concepts.