Disclaimer: Much to the disappointment of my ego, I don't own Supernatural or the Winchesters.
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"What'll it be?" A middle-aged woman shifted her stance in front of their table, a smile crinkling in the corner of her eyes. "I'll have the eggs, easy over with a side of hash." Sam said, flashing a quick smile to the waitress and handing over his menu. Dean pushed his menu toward the end of the table and simply said, "Coffee, please." Sam shot him a look consisting of shock and concern, and the waitress hurried off somewhere else. "You okay?" Sam asked, a hint of worry leaking through his words. Dean looked up from the newspaper, a surprised look on his face. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" It's not like he expected Dean to come out and say whatever was wrong. Of course not, that was against his nature. But this feeling about his brother had been nagging Sam for the past couple of days. He'd been distant, like his mind wasn't on what was in front of him. Whatever it was, Sam only hoped it wasn't too serious.
"You just…" He sighed. "Nevermind." Dean shrugged and went back to reading the newspaper.
An hour later, they were walking in the middle of a forest on the outskirts of town, snow falling around them heavily as they tracked a chupacabra. "Why aren't we hunting this thing later? It looks like a snowstorm is headed our way." Dean glanced back at Sam tiredly as he brought up the possibility of a storm for the hundredth time. He tightened his arms around his chest as a particularly strong gust of wind blew through the trees, piercing through the brothers' thick clothing and striking them to the bone. "Stop whining, Sam. We'll be done by lunch."
With layers of snow coming down faster as time went by, the boys found it harder to follow the chupacabra's trail. A couple of times they had to change direction when they realized there had been no tracks lately, resulting in a few swear words from Dean and an eyeroll from Sam. Another hour and a half passed, and the silence between the two was unnatural. Usually, Dean would either be complaining about the cold or snapping at Sam for complaining about the cold. Still, they carried on until they reached the center of a large clearing. They could hardly see ten feet in front of them, the snow creating a translucent barrier for their sight.
They stopped dead in their tracks when they heard a low growl behind them, barely audible over the howling wind. Turning around slowly, Sam could just make out a large, dark form about five yards in front of them and glanced over to see his brother fumbling with the flare gun. The beast was quickly shortening the distance between them. "Dammit, Dean." He hissed. They only had one flare gun, after the other had been used unexpectedly on a wendigo earlier that week.
'Shit' was all Dean could think as he struggled to flip the safety off of the flare gun. His hands were long since numb with the body-aching cold, and just didn't want to cooperate. At last the safety clicked off, and he was just about to shoot the damn thing when it leapt at him, one of its massive paws raking through his layers of clothing and ripping through flesh. A white-hot pain ran through his left side and he landed on his back in the snow, the monster rising up beside him for a second attack.
The whole scene happened so fast that Sam barely had time to think. He saw the flare gun laying in the snow and dove for it, then looked up just as the chupacabra was air-bound and fired. A sharp grunt came from Dean as the beast landed on him, and Sam scrambled up to help get it off. He dug his feet into the snow and pushed against the still-warm body of the chupacabra, Dean's hands braced against its chest to vainly relieve some of the pressure. After a moment of struggle, Sam managed to roll it off onto the snow next to Dean, who took a deep breath as the weight on his chest-and more painfully, his side-was suddenly released.
Dean closed his eyes and had to clench his jaw to keep from groaning in pain. Sam, not yet aware of his injury, held out a hand and he clutched it tightly as he was helped up into a standing position. A wave of pain washed over Dean and he lowered his head, letting out a long breath. It was then that Sam saw the three long tears in the clothing on his brother's side, and along with it was blood that had already begun seeping through the outer layer. "Oh God, it got you." Dean shook his head futilely. "Not that bad. Let's just get the hell out of here." He began to take a step forward, but the blinding pain made him stumble. Luckily, Sam was within arms' length and managed to grab him before he hit the ground.
"Look, the car's a couple miles away and the weather's getting worse by the second. I saw a barn just a few minutes back. You think you can make it?" He moved so his arm was holding Dean up by his waist. "Yeah, I can make it." He replied as if it was a stupid question and muttered something about Sam being a 'mother hen'' under his breath. It wasn't until the two of them started on their way back that Dean realized just how much he had overestimated his strength. The crook of his arm was hooked around his brother's neck, keeping him from sliding out of Sam's hold.
As the minutes ticked by achingly slow, Sam noticed that Dean was leaning against him more and more. Their pace had slowed and he had gotten so cold that he couldn't remember what warmth even felt like. He had tried to ignore Dean's gasps of pain when he was jostled too much or the fact that he was beginning to stumble, but his concern was only heightened at the thought of how much Dean was hiding. Just a moment later, the barn came into view. Relief hit him and he quickened his pace, much to the distress of his brother, who let out a quiet groan at the movement. Sam had Dean lean against the side of the dilapidating building while he kicked the frozen lock off and wrenched open the doors. Then he ushered him inside, closed the doors behind them, and slowly lowered Dean so he was resting against a bale of hay.
"Alright, I know you're freezing but I gotta take a look at the wound." Dean didn't respond, just feebly began attempting to get his jacket off. Sam crouched down in front of him and helped him remove his snow-soaked thick jacket, flannel, and t-shirt, revealing a bloody mess around his ribs. He thought he caught a glimpse of bone through the crimson catastrophe that was his brother's side, but couldn't be sure. Despite the odds, Sam told himself things would be fine. They had to be, because they always were. He sighed. That was the biggest lie he had told himself yet.
He stood up and thought for a moment. He had left the duffel bag containing the first-aid kit in the snow by the chupacabra, and would get there a lot faster without his brother's weight. He folded up Dean's flannel and pressed it to his side, eliciting a pained intake of breath from him. With a short nod, Dean's hand moved up to take the place of his and Sam stood up. Glancing around the worn-down barn they were in, he found a moth-eaten horse blanket in one corner and laid it over Dean, who was beginning to shiver. Sam hoped it was because of the cold and that he wasn't going into shock. He crouched in front of his brother, who looked back at him through exhausted eyes.
"I'm gonna go get the med kit. I'll just be a minute. Just...Hold on, okay?" Dean simply blinked slowly, but that was enough for Sam to know that it was okay. He heaved open the doors again, and, giving one last look back to Dean, trekked back into the frigid winds.
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Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me whether or not it was crap. But, if it is, tell me why so I can apply. This is just the first chapter, so I'll be posting the next chapter within a few days if I don't get too many unhappy readers.