Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just the boys out for a little spin.

Treacherous Tug of War

By: Vanessa Sgroi

It happened fast. Too fast for Sam to react with any alacrity. The particularly vicious ghosts of two young boys, Thaddeus and Theodore Truman, that had been plaguing the area appeared abruptly, and stealthily, and grabbed Dean, using him as a giant pull toy between them, all the while giggling quite madly. The preternatural taffy pull might have been funny if it wasn't so potentially deadly. Banishing them took a bit of extra effort as the phantasmal brats seemed particularly immune to all measures. Eventually Sam persevered, watching with grim satisfaction as the spirits dispersed into the ether. He did cringe, however, when his brother crashed to the ground with a loud thud.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he rushed across the expansive room. Skidding to a halt, he dropped to one knee next to his sibling. "Dean? Man, are you okay?"

"Uhm…yeah…" Dean wheezed, gathering himself to move. The minute he did pain receptors lit up like a fireworks display. "Ow! Shit. No, maybe not so okay. Think those little bastards were trying to pull me apart."

"Where're you hurt?"

Blowing out a breath, Dean reluctantly muttered. "Damn. Mostly—right wrist and ankle."

"Lemme take a look."

Working himself slowly into a sitting position, the older Winchester grimaced but shook his head. "Nah, I think they're just sprained. It'll be all right in a minute."

"At least let me check the wrist."

Grumbling under his breath, Dean stuck out his arm, only to pull it back toward his chest the minute Sam started probing the rapid-swelling joint. "Ow, dammit!"

Sam scowled and shook his head. "Not sprained, broken."

"Awesome. Been awhile since I sported a snazzy cast," snarked Dean. He motioned with his good hand. "Help me up."

Grabbing a hold of Dean's arm, Sam hauled him to his feet.

"Let's go get this over with." Dean took a step, gasped when his right leg gave out beneath him.

"Whoa! Easy there, bro." Sam caught his brother before Dean went all the way down and braced him against his own frame. "Make that two casts, I bet."

"Super."

By the time they made it out to the car, Dean was gray-faced, clammy, and glassy-eyed.

(SN) (SN) (SN)

And two casts it turned out to be. Much to Dean's oft-expressed disgust. Seven hours later, Sam was helping his wobbly, groggy, and cranky brother from the car into their motel room. Just inside the door, he stopped and stepped away from Dean long enough to drop the prescriptions on the nearby table and pull back the blankets on the bed. He'd just turned back toward Dean when he inexplicably began to giggle.

Dean stared at him, bleary-eyed. "What's so funny?"

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Sam muttered, "Nothing. It's—it's just that you look lopsided…you know, with those casts…you look like you're gonna…like…just fall over." He couldn't help it, another giggle burst forth.

Dean's forehead folded into a frown. "Nice, Sammy. Pick on your poor, injured brother."

Sam finally stifled his giggles. "I know, I know! I'm sorry…really. Guess I'm just…I dunno…tired…relieved…you know."

"Uh huh."

He made his way back to Dean's side. "Here, let's get you settled."

Dean sniffed indignantly but let Sam help him over to the bed. He slumped down on the edge and went through the motions as Sam maneuvered him out of his clothes. Just before he eased back on the mattress, he squinted up at Sam. The corner of his mouth tipped up into a half grin and he clumsily patted Sam's shoulder with his good hand. "To be honest, Sammy, I feel pretty lopsided." With that, Dean laid back and closed his eyes. He sighed and let the pain meds usher him down into sleep.

FIN