First story so please be nice!

Just some hurt!Sam and Protective!Dean for y'all because it is the best, and a brotherly moment thrown in too

Disclaimer: Don't own the boys or any canon storyline. Just having some story writing fun with the two.

The poltergeist they were dealing with was not an easy one. Not that it really ever was, to be honest; an easy hunt for the Winchesters would be like Christmas or something. So it came as to not so much surprise when the dead guy decided that, after all, he wouldn't really like to go, half way through the digging.

It appeared right beside Dean, and Sam, who was ready with the shotgun as soon as he had felt the air getting colder, yelled out immediately "Dean, down!" and his brother obliged straight away due to orders being used his whole life. As a fairly good result, Sam was able to shot the spirit with rock salt to make it disappear with a hiss – it would be back, and soon. Sam told Dean so, who gave him a 'no shit Sherlock' look but continued to dig the second half of the grave with increased urgency while Sam looked around, alert for the return of the angry ghost.

However, it didn't make its reappearance until the end of digging. Dean finished and grabbed the salt to pour onto the grave, and Sam relaxed a little, finger not so tight on the trigger. Unfortunately, this was the time the spirit decided to come back. It appeared right next to the younger Winchester, who was too shocked to even bring the gun up let alone fire before the poltergeist grinned wickedly and seized him.

It threw Sam away like a ragdoll, leaving him to crash considerably hard into a tree in the graveyard and fall heavily to the ground. Still conscious, for a moment, he groaned; a smashing pain in his head screamed concussion and his left arm, where he had gone into the tree and crookedly fallen on, was numb. He tried to move it to sit up but pain ripped through the entire damn thing, up to his shoulder, and he would have screamed had he not immediately passed out with the pain, slumping unconscious to the ground.

Dean hadn't lost track of his brother at all, he was just a little busy at the moment.

He had yelled for Sam when the damn spirit threw him away, and had kept an eye on him as he watched the younger Winchester fall to the ground from hitting the tree, and had felt relief when he heard Sam's groan which meant he was still conscious and try to move, but when he had gasped in unmistakable pain and went limp on the ground, Dean's panic went into overdrive. Unfortunately, although terrified for Sam, he was indeed a little busy. He would have at least called for his brother, had the poltergeist not had its ghostly hands around his neck, cutting off his air supply.

Luckily Dean was still next to the equipment, and he reached behind himself for a lighter, having already salted the bones. As black spots decorated his vision, and he gasped for breath, Dean finally located the device, clicked it, and threw it in the grave. The spirit dissipated with a distant scream and Dean took a deep breath, watching the bones burn for a minute. But not for long, as he immediately remembered Sam and he turned to look for his little brother, still unconscious near the tree. Dean scrambled up and hurried quickly to his prone figure. "Sammy!"

Sam's world was one of pain and more pain at the moment. The blackness hadn't lasted long and the real world took its chance, grabbing Sam up from the darkness and into it, where there was yet more pain to deal with. And dealing with it was something Sam wasn't doing that great at the moment.

He distantly heard Dean's call of his nickname, and he forced his eyes open a little to find his brother knelt next to him, face perfectly set in profound concern and worry. Sam tried to move again, maybe sit up, but the second he moved his left arm to try and lean on it, there were just white hot knives all along it and he practically yelled in pain before the blackness invaded again. It was very temporary this time though, and he was barely under when he heard Dean's voice, tainted with terror, trying to bring him back.

"-come on, Sammy, wake up. It's okay, it's gone, we need to get back, and I can't help you unless I know what's wrong." Dean was doing his best to stay calm, but kneeling next to his barely conscious brother, who seemed to be in terrible amounts of pain, and not knowing what to do to help raised his levels of worry a little. Just a bit. Thankfully, Sam shuddered as he gasped in pain and opened his eyes to slits again.

"That's it, open your eyes, Sammy, come on, Sam," Dean said gently, voice saturated in relief. Sam managed to open his eyes, though they were utterly glazed over with pain, and Dean watched him worriedly as he made no move to try and, well, move. "Where does it hurt?" Dean asked quietly.

The kid squeezed his eyes shut again for a moment, and Dean was worried he was going under again, but Sam opened them with another gasp of pain and managed to choke out "my... arm... I'm... lying on..." through gritted teeth. Dean analysed Sam's fallen position – he was lying on his side, on his left arm, the same one that had hit the tree and then been fallen on. Oh, well that would hurt. Carefully as he could, Dean took Sam's shoulder and, in a swift move, turned Sam onto his back and freeing his arm, admittedly putting the kid in conspicuous amounts on pain whilst doing so.

He waited a second for Sam's pained, hissed, breaths to level out, and for him to open his eyes again, while Dean surveyed his arm that seemed to be causing it. It was at a strange angle, swollen and definitely not looking right, so Dean guessed it was probably broken to be causing so much agony for his little brother. Talking of which, the younger Winchester finally forced his eyes open again, continuingly wincing in pain, and now obtaining the use of his practically undamaged arm, tried to sit up.

Dean quickly helped him, supporting mainly his left side as that was weak at the moment. This simple movement caused more pain for Sam, who tried unsuccessfully to breathe through it while Dean decided what to do. Evidently his little brother needed a hospital, and there was one in the town where they had come from. He also knew himself that he would need backup while Sam was out, and resolved to call Bobby first chance he got. They would go there once finished at the hospital.

With a plan in mind, he turned his attention to his brother. "We need to get you to hospital; I think your arm's probably broken," he told the kid gently, taking his other arm to help him up as he struggled and glanced at Dean.

Sam sighed in resignment. "Yeah," he muttered, wincing at pain twinged in it and reminded him of how badly it was messed up.

Dean gave him a calculating look and then asked just as gently "can you walk to the car?"

Now the pain was holding off a little bit, Sam was already feeling better, and he gave Dean half an 'obviously' look. "Yeah, there's nothing wrong with my legs, Dean," he muttered wearily, suddenly tired and wanting nothing better than fall and forget the pain. But first they had to get someplace safe.

Dean gave him a quick one over, and nodded, deeming him indeed fit to walk alone. The elder Winchester quickly hurried to get the stuff they had brought, then went back to Sam, taking his unharmed arm to lead him to the car. The closeness was deemed useful, as when they got there, Sam all but collapsed against the vehicle in pain, startling Dean, who immediately dropped the bag and grabbed his little brother's shoulders to keep him standing and focused.

Sam hissed in pain as his useless arm briefly hit against the Impala and his legs almost gave out and blackness hit him, threatening to swallow. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to breathe normally again, and stay upright. After a minute or so, he felt the pain ease a little and opened his eyes with a deep breath. Dean was watching him closely and in concern, still holding tight onto his shoulders to keep him grounded.

Sam nodded in answer to an unasked question and Dean carefully, with an arm around his shoulders, led him to the passenger side of the car. Sam got in without a protest and Dean gently shut the door, leaving Sam to huddle against the cool window and try to ignore to a degree the burning terrible pain in his limp arm.

Dean left Sam in the car and quickly tossed the weapons bag into the boot before getting into the driver's side and glancing at Sam. The kid was close to the window, sweating and also shivering; a fever was coming on, and Dean could already feel the heat emitting from his little brother. He started the engine and drove them off, heading for the hospital, and glancing in worry at Sam frequently.