The familiar rumble of the Impala is the most welcome sound in the entire world. No classic rock now. Just that beautiful rumble. Dean sits clutching the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. His jaw clenches tightly as his eyes dart briefly to his younger brother, whose normally imposing form is curled into a tight ball.
"Dammit" Dean presses his foot down harder on the gas pedal. 90 mph will not cut it, he has to get Sammy back to the motel stat.
"Hey Sammy, you still with me?" Dean says gruffly, the concern evident in the tightness around his eyes as he speaks. He is met with a "Mmph" from the form next to him. "Sammy!" Dean's voice is a little louder now, an edge to it. "Yeah, Dean.. M'here" Sammy said weakly. Good, he's conscious at least, Dean guns it toward the crappy motel in town.
Goddamn poltergeist came out of nowhere. Simple salt and burn, that's all it was supposed to be. He had his lighter in his hand, and was just about to drop it when he heard the THUMP, followed by a sickening crack. His instinct kicked in immediately, he was about to drop the lighter and grab his rock salt filled shotgun when a force, hard as a cement wall and with as much power as a semi pushed him against the side of the gravestone. Dean blinked, bleary eyed, assessing the situation.
"Sammy!" Dean rushed to his feet, perhaps a bit too quickly as he now swayed dangerously. No answer. That's when the poltergeist appeared once more, an inch from Dean's face. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as she stared him down.
"You will pay" her voice seared as her eyes narrowed, accusingly, "You will pay.. you have hurt someone you love. You deserve this.." She hissed as she wound her semi-transparent, ice cold fingers around Dean's neck. Another wronged lover, vengeful spirit, Dean thought. Dean's trademark smirk appeared and he quipped, "Not today, bitch" and he fired off a round of rock salt right at her, dispersing her immediately. Rushing over to the grave sight he dropped his 99 cent gas station lighter into the grave, ending another reign of terror.
"SAMMY!" Dean spun immediately, scanning the area for his brother. He tried to remain calm, and keep his thoughts in order as they jumbled up in his mind. Another concussion for sure. But that didn't matter as he searched frantically for Sam. Where could he be, for chrissake he's a freakin' Sasquatch. A soft moan, and Dean turned left towards the sound. He could just make out a pair of feet, the rest of Sammy's form obscured by an older grave and the branches of a thick evergreen. Brushing the branches out of the way, he assessed Sammy's state. His face and hands are scratched, his face is bruised and his hair is matted with blood.
"It's okay, Sammy.. we got the bitch." Dean checked Sam's neck for broken bones, and when all seemed clear he shook Sam gently, slowly bringing Sam back to consciousness.
"Come on Sammy, nap time is over." Dean's brow furrowed as he received no response. He slapped Sam's face lightly, shaking him a little harder now; Dean winced sympathetically as Sam began to moan painfully.
"Welcome back, kiddo" Dean brushed a bit of Sam's hair aside, checking the wound. Superficial, definitely concussed though. Probably a few bruised ribs as well.
Sam's arms reached to the ground and he began to push himself, letting out a small yelp as a jolt of pain shot through his body. Dean saw Sammy's eyes become unfocused once again, and snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face, knowing they needed to get out of this situation ASAP. No telling when local authorities could turn up.
"Lean on me, Sammy.. we'll take care of this back at the motel." Dean said as gently as possible. He let Sam gather himself for a few more moments before helping him up onto his feet, hoisting him more like it. They made their way back to the Impala, slowly but steadily, Dean taking most of Sam's weight.
"Goddamn you'd think this would be easier with all your salads" Dean thought as they inched their way, step by step, back to his Baby.
Finally, he gingerly dropped his brother into the passenger seat. Taking a few deep breaths to clear his own muddled head, he snapped into action, getting behind the wheel and speeding off onto the highway back to their motel.
Dean guns the motor one last time as he turns into the eerily dark parking lot next to the garish, cheap motel he had booked earlier that night.
"Alright, Sammy... time to get up." Dean helps his brother up slowly. He'd been sure to keep his brother at least semi-conscious during the entire car ride. Sleeping plus concussions equal bad news. Dean wraps his arm around his not-so-little brother and gently, but firmly lifts him out of the car. Dean half carries Sam into the room.
"Thank God we're on the first floor Sam, you weigh a friggin' ton." Dean lowers his brother onto the closest bed, snapping his fingers near Sam's face as his eyes droop once again.
"Nope, this is not naptime, sorry Sammy" Dean closes the door, double locking and chaining it before laying the obligatory salt lines down on the windows and door. He moves to the sink, and after dampening two washcloths with cold water, he returns to his brother. Sam sighs as the cloth grazes his skin, the white fabric turning a nauseating shade of pink as Sammy's blood is absorbed. Once Sam is clean, Dean lays the second cloth onto his forehead.
"Alright, hold tight" Dean moves to his bag, taking out some painkillers and a bottle of water, "Here take these, it'll help some."
He slides his hand under Sam, gently guiding him until he is upright enough to take the pills. Dean takes inventory on Sam's injuries. Slowly and carefully making sure nothing is broken, his mind wanders to the vengeful spirit's words.
"You have hurt someone you love..." Her voice burns in his mind. He had hurt someone he loved. He thinks back to all the times he'd let his brother down. He'd called him a freak. His own brother, the one he had sworn to protect at all costs. The look in Sammy's eyes after he'd said that, the hurt, the betrayal, then the anger. He'd deserved the anger. His eyes flick up to Sam's face and surprisingly, meet Sam's eyes.
The sides of Sam's mouth twitch up slightly, "Thanks, Dean. Thanks for taking care of me." His voice is breathy, but stronger than before.
Dean responds with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "N-No problem, Sam." He covers the crack with a cough.
"You always take care of me, Dean" Sam says lightly, grasping Dean's forearm lightly with his left hand, before relaxing it again.
"Well who else is gonna take care of you, Samantha" Dean skillfully avoids a chick flick moment, but his smile is more genuine this time.
"Jerk"
"Bitch"
THE END
(Thanks for the reviews! I've corrected some grammar issues in this update!)