Summary: A demon gets the drop on Sam. Dean worries.
His eyes widened, his mouth gaping open. No words came out as the shock silenced his thoughts. His fist loosened its grip on the demon's shirt, his palm going to press against his own abdomen.
The demon smiled at him, his lip curled up into a smirk as his black eyes watched in amusement.
"Not so tough now, are you, Winchester?" he said gleefully.
Sam's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. His mind was incapable of forming a coherent thought. He ignored the gloating demon as he felt a warm wetness gush between his fingers and soak through his clothing.
The demon threw his head back and laughed deeply. It was short lived, however, as a blade protruded from his neck and his skin flashed brightly like lightning in a storm. The demon fell into a piled heap on the ground, dead.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled, stashing the knife away and hurrying to his brother.
"I'm okay," Sam said, but he didn't sound very convincing even to his own ears.
Dean raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah? And I'm the queen of England."
Sam pursed his lips together, trying to remain upright as a wave of dizziness hit him. He wobbled, his balance off, but Dean was quick to reach out and steady him with an arm around his back.
"I gotcha, man. Let's get outta here," Dean said, turning and steering Sam toward the Impala, his hand remaining on his brother's back for support.
Dean kept up a slow pace. He would've liked to go faster in order to get Sam out of there and get a good look at his wound, but he knew his brother wasn't capable of going any faster at the moment, and that concerned him, as did the fact that he was unsteady and his shirt was already soaked through with blood. He would never admit it, but he was worried.
"Alright, Sam," he said as he unlocked and opened the passenger door, "in you go." He helped lower Sam down into the seat.
Sam gritted his teeth and scrunched his eyes closed as another wave of pain crashed through him.
"Here, Sam, lemme see." Dean gently moved Sam's hand and peeled back the saturated shirts to reveal the knife wound in his stomach. He carefully touched the injury and Sam hissed when Dean's fingers made contact. Dean tried to be quick while assessing the damage, but he still noticed how Sam clenched his teeth and bit back screams, only letting the smallest of groans escape. He also noticed how Sam was fighting the instinct to flinch away from the hands inflicting him more pain than what he was already experiencing, and how his right foot twitched in agitation.
Dean pulled away and nodded, settling the shirts back down.
"It's not as bad as it looks. Thank goodness," he said, whispering the last bit, but it didn't escape Sam's notice.
Sam didn't know how it couldn't possibly be as horrible as it felt, but he trusted Dean. If his big brother said it wasn't that bad, then it wasn't. He felt a bit relieved.
Dean reached into the backseat and grabbed the old stained blanket they kept there. He handed it to Sam.
"Here, use this. Keep pressure on it," Dean instructed. He didn't walk away until he saw his brother do as he asked. Sure, the wound wasn't too bad or too deep and it wouldn't need a hospital, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried. It was bleeding heavily and he needed to tend to it as soon as possible.
Dropping into the driver's seat and flicking on the headlights, he took one last glance at Sam before pulling onto the highway. Sam sat slightly hunched forward, his eyes held tightly closed as he kept pressure on the wound.
Their hotel wasn't too far, but it was still farther than Dean would like it to be. Although, Dean being Dean, even having to drive two blocks down the road would be too far if it meant that Sam had to suffer. As it was, twenty minutes wasn't too bad, and at the speed he was going, he could probably be there in fifteen.
Dean sighed and ran a hand through his short cropped hair before replacing it on the wheel in a tight, white-knuckled grip that was making his hands ache. His mind kept replaying images of Sam bleeding out as he reminded himself that Sam was okay. He'd be okay. Of course he would. He had to. There was no other option.
"How're we doing there, Sammy?" Dean questioned, not for the first time. He made a point to check in with his injured brother every couple of minutes to make sure he was alright. Usually, Sam would let out a small grunt of acknowledgement, and that was enough for Dean, but this time, the car remained silent apart from the sound of rubber tearing across the asphalt as they sped through the darkness.
"Sammy? I'm not kidding, man. Talk to me. How're you doing?"
Removing his eyes from the road, he looked over at his little brother, seeing his posture a bit more slumped than he had been before.
"SAMMY!" He yelled as he swerved the car off the road and onto the shoulder.
As soon as the car was stationary, he leapt out, leaving the driver's door open as he ran over to the passenger's side and threw the door open forcefully.
Sam was unconscious, is body slack, which meant that no pressure was being placed on his wound. It was still bleeding heavily and the blanket he'd given him earlier was mostly saturated. His clothes were covered, and blood had even begun soaking into his jacket.
"Come on, Sammy," he said softly as he reached to feel the pulse at the side of Sam's neck, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt a faint, although erratic, beat beneath this fingertips. Sam's skin was cold and clammy, obvious signs of shock.
Swearing, Dean quickly pulled off his jacket and tucked it in around his brother.
"We're almost there, bud. Just hold on," he said, running his fingers through Sam's hair before going back to the driver's side and resuming their flight down the highway. They were about five minutes from their hotel, but he'd be sure they'd get there in two.
Once Dean saw the neon lights come into view, he felt a huge wave of relief wash over him as he pulled into the hotel's parking lot. It didn't last, though. One glance at Sam was enough to put fear back in his heart. Sam's face was deathly pale, his breaths shallow and too rapid. Parking the car haphazardly, he hurried to grab his brother and drag him inside.
He made short work of getting Sam situated on the bed and cutting off his stained shirts. He quickly began cleaning the wound thoroughly, making sure to do a good job in order to lessen the chances of infection.
He was threading the needle when Sam twitched and then groaned.
"Hey, man. You with me?" Dean said hopefully.
Sam groaned again before his eyes slowly blinked open.
"Hey, sleeping beauty. How're you feeling?"
Sam's gaze shifted over to his brother. It took a moment for him to focus.
"Been better," he said, his voice strained.
"Yeah, well, I'm almost done. Just gotta stitch you up."
Sam nodded weakly.
"Since you're awake, how 'bout you take some meds? They'll take a bit to kick in, but they'll help you sleep when I'm done."
Sam nodded again.
Dean grabbed some pills and a bottle of water. Sam tried to sit up, but quickly stopped when pain tore through his abdomen. He laid back down, eyes tightly closed as he panted, trying to breathe through the pain.
"Whoa, whoa. Easy, tiger," Dean said. He gave Sam a moment to catch his breath. "Okay, lemme help," Dean said, placing his arm around Sam's back and helping him up long enough to take the pills. Afterward, Sam fell gratefully back down to his pillow.
"Alright. Here goes, " Dean said, picking up the needle and beginning to stitch the wound. Sam did his best not to flinch too much, knowing that that would only add to his pain. Even so, it was hard. Both of his hands were fisted into the bedsheets on either side of him, clenching hard as he tried to ride through the pain. His stomach felt like it was on fire and the needle repeatedly piercing his skin only made it worse. He was quiet about it, trying to suck it up and take it like a man. Despite his best efforts, though, an occasional groan escaped that made Dean's heart clench every time.
"Okay," Dean said, pulling the last stitch taut and tying it off. All done." Dean gently wiped the stitched wound with a wet washcloth to remove any remaining blood, and then taped some gauze over it.
Sam said nothing.
"You alright?" Dean questioned, pausing the task of putting the medical supplies back into the kit.
"Hm?" Sam said, looking over at Dean with a glazed expression. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," he said, closing his eyes. "Just tired."
Sam reached over to grab the covers, wincing and biting back a moan as the movement pulled at the wound. Dean swatted his hands away and put a hand to his chest to settle him.
"Dude, stop. These stitches are brand-spankin' new. Don't pop them and make me have to do all my hard work all over again," Dean said, concern leaking into his words. Dean pulled the covers over Sam before straightening back up. "Get some sleep, man. You're gonna need it to replace all that blood you lost."
Sam gave a slight nod, closed his eyes once more, and was asleep in seconds. Dean stood there for a few minutes, just watching his little brother sleep, his breaths soft and even as his chest rose and fell in a continuous rhythm. Sam would occasionally flinch, his eyes scrunching up in pain, but it never lasted long, no doubt thanks to the pills that had finally begun to take the edge off.
After a bit, Dean sighed. Finally satisfied that his brother was okay, he made his way over to the bathroom and scrubbed his hands clean as the gore washed away. It made his stomach flip to watch the water run red from Sam's blood, but it was okay now.
Dean quickly pulled on some pajamas and climbed into his own bed. He'd shower in the morning. For now, he wanted to be near Sam in case he woke up and needed him. They'd take a few days off so Sam could rest, and then they'd get back on the road again. After all, the things that go bump in the night never sleep and there's always more work to be done.
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