Sam choked back his pain as he tried to one-handedly splint his broken wrist. He knew he should probably go to the hospital, but they'd but a cast on it. And if they put a cast on it then Dean would see the cast. And if Dean saw the cast he'd definitely ask what had happened. And if Sam told him, he'd want to know how Sam had gone to bed without a broken wrist, and then woken up with a cast. And Sam really didn't want to get into that.
Dean had no patience or understanding for Sam feeling guilty about what he'd done without his soul. He seemed to think it was stupid, and he snapped whenever Sam brought up trying to make up for it. So telling him that Sam had been sneaking out and hunting on his own at night wouldn't go over too well. It wasn't every night, just a lot of them. So often they'd have a job, and in the next town over there would be something simple to do: a simple salt and burn, some possessed kid, etcetera etcetera. Sam would just head off, take care of whatever it was, and be back in the morning with Dean none the wiser. Well... maybe not completely none the wiser. Dean wasn't stupid. He'd been looking at Sam funny for the past couple of days, possibly picking up on the fact that Sam wasn't sleeping enough, or had more scratches and bruises than he usually did.
But Dean wasn't going to actually bring anything up without hard evidence, so Sam wasn't going to give him any. He had slipped up tonight. Trying to tackle an entire nest of hostile vampires on his own had been a little bit foolish, and he'd really been lucky to just break his wrist. Still, broken bones healed, and it was just his left wrist. He didn't have to use it too much. He could get away with this.
He finished wrapping it. He had had to keep the dressing to a minimum so that he could still hide it under his sleeve, but he'd gotten it fairly tight, and in January it was pretty normal for him to be wearing gloves all the time. He hurriedly put away the med-kit and crawled into bed, settling in like he'd been there all night. Dean would be waking up soon, so he'd need to pretend to have slept.
Lo and behold, about fifteen minutes later as the sun started breaking through the window, Sam heard Dean stirring in the next bed.
"Time to get up Sammy, we've gotta start driving if we wanna get to Texas today."
Sam sat up and faked bleariness. It was time to start the day, and he was fine. FINE.
Dean was glad he had woken up before Sam this morning. It proved that Sam did sleep, and he'd been doubting that. Over the past few days Sam had started to look drawn and exhausted. Dean wondered if maybe he was having nightmares again, but he usually let Dean comfort him after those, and he hadn't heard anything from him for a while. As they drove toward Texas Dean glanced down at the Impala's mileage. It was pretty surprising how much they'd driven in the past couple of days, but he guessed that made sense. They did travel a lot.
Sam was broody in the next seat. But Sam was always broody. It seemed like Sam's life was just incomplete without something to feel guilty for, so after absolving his guilt about the whole apocalypse thing he just had to latch onto the time he spent without a soul. It didn't help that he had his memories back now, so he knew about all the heartless things he'd done. In Dean's opinion, none of it was his fault. Sam couldn't help not having a soul, and now he had one. He didn't have to make up for anything. Of course, Sam had other ideas, but Dean tried to squash those as much as he could. He didn't need anymore self-sacrificing attitude from Sam. He didn't think he could take it if he heard the words "it's the least I could do" again. Sam got stupid when he felt guilty, so Dean was thanking his lucky stars that Sam apparently hadn't felt guilty enough to get stupid yet.
As they pulled into a dive motel on the outskirts of Houston to stop for the night, Dean saw a woman running out of the woods screaming. Sam saw her too, and hopped out of the car to intercept her.
"Hey, hey, are you okay? What's wrong?" The woman was hysterical. Tears were streaming down her face and her clothes were ripped. Dean was already listing all the possible spirits, demons, and creatures that would do this in his head. But he was unprepared for what he heard next.
"I was jogging, and some men... They- They tried to-" She dissolved into tears again and buried her face in Sam's shoulder. Fucking people... He'd always said they scared him the most. Just then a group of about six men ran out of the woods. They were fairly large, which was probably why they had thought they could still take the woman even though she'd found other people to help her. Too bad they didn't know who they were dealing with. He and Sam could take them easily.
"Jenny" one of them started in a wheedling tone "Jenny we just wanna have a little fun with ya." Dean stepped in now.
"Look man, I don't think she's interested" The man laughed. So did his friends, and they all took what they probably thought were menacing steps forward.
"I don't think it's any of your business, pal. Now how about your boyfriend takes his hands off my girl, and no one gets hurt."
"Yeah, about that... New idea, how about you fuck off, and I don't kick your ass?" This really made them laugh, and Dean had about lost his patience with the whole situation.
"Seriously dude, hand her over."
"Seriously dude, no." They threw the first punch and the fight was on. Sam pushed the woman behind him and joined the fray, and things were going pretty well until Dean heard Sam all but scream in pain. He knocked out the idiot he was fighting, and ran over to help his brother, but Sam had already finished and knocked the would be rapist out cold. Dean started checking him over for injuries anyway, but Sam pulled away.
"I'm fine."
"I just heard you scream. What? Did he pull your hair princess?" At this point the woman seemed to regain her composure and chimed in.
"I saw it, he grabbed his arm."
Shit. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut? Dean had that determined look in his eye and he was reaching for Sam's arm. Sam found himself dodging and evading, but that only made Dean look more determined and now pissed off. Finally lunged forward and seized Sam's good wrist, checking it over before using it as a hand hold to get to the left arm. When he caught it, Sam just barely kept himself from crying out in pain. Things only got worse when Dean pushed his sleeve up and took a look.
"Sam. This is already dressed." Sam took the opportunity to tug his hand away and pull his sleeve down.
"So it's fine then. Already wrapped up, nothing to worry about."
"Why. Is. It. Hurt. In. The. First. Place?" Dean was grinding his teeth. That was a terrible habit to get into, Sam mused, Dean could ruin his teeth like that. But Sam was brought back to reality rather quickly. Dean looked absolutely furious and Sam found himself stuttering to answer.
"Well... um... Uh..."
"What's wrong with your wrist Sam?"
"Uh..." Why couldn't he think of anything?
"Sam!"
"It's broken! Okay?" Dean looked, if possible, more angry.
"It's broken." He deadpanned. Sam only nodded. "Get in the car. Both of you. We're going to the hospital." Sam climbed into the passenger's seat, and the woman into the back, and they started off. It was a tense drive to the hospital. Sam and Dean couldn't really talk with some stranger sitting in the back, so they drove in silence. The parted ways at the entrance, Sam and Dean heading for the ER, the woman heading for the clinic to get her bumps and bruises checked out.
After getting Sam's wrist checked out and actually wrapped in a cast they drove back to the motel. Dean got out and checked them in, then drove them around to park near their room. He got out of the car and started inside, but Sam couldn't find it in himself to move. He watched, frozen in his seat, as Dean unloaded their bags and brought them into the room, then finally came back to the car to stare at Sam through the windshield. Still Sam couldn't move. He knew exactly what would happen if he got out of the car, and he wasn't looking forward to it. Logically, a part of him knew he was making it worse right now, but he just couldn't do it. He couldn't move from his seat. Finally, Dean came around and opened his door. He just reached across Sam's lap, unbuckled his seatbelt, and tugged him out of the car and into the motel room by his good arm. Inside, Sam found himself deposited on one of the beds as the lecture began.
"What were you thinking? Seriously dude, I'm asking, because I can't even begin to figure this out. What the HELL is wrong with you? If you break your arm, you go to the hospital. You don't try to treat it yourself, and you certainly don't lie to me and cover it up! And that raises another question: how did it get broken in the first place? Because it wasn't broken last night. I saw you wandering around without a shirt on." Here it was: the moment Sam had been dreading. Breaking his wrist wasn't something Dean could get mad at him for, but the way he broke it... He looked up uncertainly at his brother.
"Well, that's something I should probably tell you... I've been, uh, doing a bit of, um, extracurricular hunting the past couple weeks?"
"Extracurricular?" Sam flinched, but clarified anyway.
"I've been, um, leaving at night to hunt things nearby."
"Alone." It wasn't a question, more of a statement of disapproval, but Sam nodded anyway. "Why, Sam? You know how stupid this is! You don't go in without backup! That's how you do shit like break your wrist!" Sam stood up.
"I just wanted to do something good for the world for once! You've been so tired lately, and you shouldn't have to be doing back to back jobs helping me make up for my mistakes!" The moment the words left Sam's mouth he knew he had said too much. Dean's mouth set into a thin line and he looked livid.
"Are you telling me you lied to me, snuck out in the night to hunt alone, got injured, didn't get it treated, and then lied to me some more, all out of some misguided sense of guilt?" There was no right answer. They both knew the answer was yes, but if Sam said yes, he'd get a spanking. If Sam said no, he'd still get a spanking, and Dean would probably be more angry than before. The only other option was to try and wheedle out of this.
"Who's saying it's misguided Dean? I did horrible things, to you, and Bobby, and pretty much everyone I met! I'm just trying to make up for it!"
"That wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame anyone, blame Cas! He's the one who brought you back without a soul to begin with!"
"It doesn't matter who's fault it was Dean! I did what I did, and now I have a soul and I feel bad about it and I'm going to make up for it no matter what!"
"No. You're not. Not if making up for it means you act like a total idiot with a death wish." Dean's face settled into a look of determination. He sat down on the bed, caught Sam's good arm with one swift grab, and pulled him over his lap. Sam knew what came next and immediately started to argue and struggle. He flailed his arms and kicked his legs, but somehow despite being a good head taller than Dean, he could never overpower him.
"Dean, this isn't fair! I was trying to do something good! Lemme go, you can't spank me for this it's not right!" Dean just popped the button on Sam's jeans and tugged them down to his knees, then started smacking on Sam's boxer clad bottom.
"You've been sneaking off, not telling me where you're going at night for weeks Sam! Weeks! And you've been hunting alone, and sleep deprived! You could have been killed! I'd ask what you were thinking, but you already told me and I'm not impressed. If I ever catch you doing something that dangerous again you won't sit for a week!" He paused for a moment, then slipped his belt off and doubled it over in his hand before starting back in on Sam's ass. "Then you broke your wrist and tried to act like it didn't happen! We're about to start on a job! Did you really think it would be a good idea to try and fight something if you can't even hold a shotgun right? You could have gotten us both killed out there because you lied. to. me. We've talked over and over again about the lies, and if we ever have to have that conversation again, it'll make this one seem fun. Do you understand me?" Sam was crying by now, but was swearing up a storm that would have made Dean proud on a normal day. He tried again to get off Dean's lap and away from the searing pain to his backside. "There's not gonna be any more guilt Sammy. No more making up for things. Do you promise?" Sam kept struggling. Dean delivered ten hard swats to his upper thighs that made Sam gasp and dissolve into broken sobs. "Do. You. Promise?"
"I p-p-promise! No more!"
"And are you ever going to lie to me again?"
"Never again! I promise!"
"I hope so Sammy, because I don't want to have to do this again." Dean stopped smacking and laid the belt beside him on the bed. Sam continued to cry on his lap, and Dean rubbed his back soothingly. When Sam got up Dean hugged him.
"Why don't you get to bed Sammy. We'll start bright and early tomorrow."
"Okay." Sam crawled obediently into the bed and settled in for the night, secure in the knowledge that even if the world couldn't forgive him for what he'd done, even if he couldn't forgive himself, his brother forgave him, and he always would.