I do not own Supernatural or any of these characters. Title and lyrics belong to Metallica.

"Little brother, don't you cry... let me tend to these wounds as I hold you tight, big brother is here to make things right... so little brother, dry your eyes."

- Myself

"Take your brother back to the motel, Dean. Go, now."

Dean turned his eyes from his baby brother, he held cradled in his arms, to his father. "What about you, dad?"

"I've got another hunt in the next town over. Can't say how long I'll be gone, could be a week. Just look after Sammy."

His father sounded slightly guilty for leaving them again on a short notice, especially for leaving him with a hurt Sam. But his brother was his responsibility, always had been, and always will be - and nothing, or nobody will ever take that responsibility away from him, not even his own father.

"Always, dad," was the reply, as he pulled his brother closer against him, his chest swelling with the fierce protectiveness that had been there everyday since his little brother was born.

His father nodded shortly, "I know you will, Dean. Now, go."

...

The incline had been a long, tedious journey, with the grass still damp from the downpour they had earlier this afternoon. The weather man had predicted rain - and he'd been right. The smell from the late evening shower still lingered in the late night air, as the thick forest of trees silently swept their dark shadows among the forest floor, giving off a darkened glow to its surroundings. The large flashlight Dean balanced in one hand - the faded yellow plastic of the torch handle gripped tightly in his fist - as the same hand was carefully cradled beneath his brothers back, keeping his touch as far from the wound as possible. The beam of the heavy duty light bounced along the slick, thickly shrub ridden floor, as the sound of twigs and broken debris crunched beneath his brown leather boots.

He'd left the Impala parked at the gravelled edge of the two laned highway, just a few short hours ago. The hunt should have been simple. The downtown local police department had reports in the area of mauled bodies with their hearts brutally removed from their chests; the latest victims being a middle aged couple hiking through these same woods a whole week and a half ago. Nobody could make sense, a bear, maybe a wolf? But the Winchester's knew that ment one thing, and only one thing; a werewolf.

The hunt had gone reasonably well - in the beginning, until a third werewolf snuck upon them, and made itself known by viciously attacking Sam from behind, their dad didn't take two seconds to know their new presence. He fired the bow aiming dead on, the creature took the arrow to the heart, dropping immediately. But unfortunately that hadn't been the only thing that'd dropped like a heavy weight to the thickly covered ground...

Dean protectively tightened his hold on his brother, pressing him closer into his chest. Remembering those horrifying seconds of not knowing whether his little brother was alive; but the steady pulse, and thudump, thudump of his chest was a good reminder that Sammy was still here.

The beam of the flash light cut through the dark, presenting its wide spread glow on the one thing Dean had been waiting for - the one thing he needed right now, but hadn't come quick enough. The black sheen of the beastly muscle car stood out like the moon on a blackened sky, as the golden circle of light lit up the sleek beauty.

Dean quickened his pace, his heavy boots crunching on the roadside gravel with his little brother pressed protectively to his chest, his hold never wavering.

When he had both of his 'baby's' within reach, he balanced himself against the passenger side door, and shifted Sam to one arm - as he'd done many a times, and was well practiced at. And with Sam being rather small for his age, looking more ten or eleven-years-old rather than thirteen, it wasn't too hard - and reached his left hand deep into his jeans pocket to retrieve his keys. He turned the key in the door lock, knowing his girl never failed him as the lock on the inside popped up. He took hold of the thin stainless steel door handle, opening the door. He menoeuvred his kid brother around the door, placing him carefully onto the black leather bench seat. And closed the door, before coming round the drivers side, and settling behind the wheel.

Before starting the ignition, Dean glanced across to Sammy to see he had slightly list to the side, but was still completely unconscious. Without hesitation he shrugged off his leather jacket he was wearing, then immediately peeled his white t-shirt over his head, leaving him bare chested with just the black cord around his neck of the gift Sammy had given him so many Christmas's ago; that he held more valuable than any other item he possessed... almost. He briefly glanced down as the golden amulet gently rocked against his well muscular chest - that'd been built up through his dad's hard work at training - and gave a fond smile remembering all those years back when Sam had handed him the small newspaper wrapped parcel, his heart had swelled in his chest as he'd hung the gift around his neck, with him never taking it off since.

Dean silently shook the memory away. Those had been the days when monsters had been of the imagination, just a scary thing inside the closet - well for Sammy anyway, Dean had always known. His father didn't have to tell him, he'd known. And as for the amulet been high on his list of treasures; nothing and nobody came close to his brother, the kid was his number one... and it almost killed him to say it, but not even the Impala won out between his brother - only the kid doesn't know it - and even though he'd never voice that thought verbally, if the heartbreaking decision ever came to, he knew the kid would win out... always.

But that's not to say the amulet wasn't important - it was the most precious thing his brother had given him.

The air was chilled out, and it wasn't much better in the car, with the windows taking on a foggy haze at every warm breath they breathed. He turned the key in the ignition, getting a meaty growl from the engine - but didn't have time to take pleasure in it, as he leaned across to the centre console and flipped up the short black leavers to full, feeling the hot air blast out through the vents. With the heaters doing their job, he glanced over towards the passenger side noting the kid was still out. His brother was still in the exact same position, looking much like a rag doll that had been placed in a sitting up right position; with his head slightly drooping and upper half fallen to the right - and very carefully he reached across the seat placing his left hand under his brothers right arm against his upper rib cage, and gently eased him across the leather bench seat. It took a little bit more trouble then expected, but he eventually had the kid lying curled up along the black leather with his head resting against his thigh.

He gave a deep rugged sigh, before carefully unzipping his brothers grey hoodie that'd been ripped to shreds by the creatures claws on the lower right side - and as he looked closer he noticed even in the dim light the deep patch of red that was now seeping through the thick cotton. He slowly eased up the hem of the faded black t-shirt that had once been his, and noticing just how damp the material was, he grabbed at his own t-shirt he'd stripped off and pressed it firmly against the pooling red, sickly looking gashes in his brothers abdomen. He needed to get out of here now, his brother needed immediate medical attention and he couldn't give it here, not when it was pitch black out with such little light.

Dean gently draped his leather jacket over his sleeping baby brother, with the boy shifting slightly against him and mumbling something unintelligible. He took in his brothers expression and knew from the pained lines that were edged into his sleeping features that he wasn't resting peacefully - and needing to get Sammy home fast. With that in mind he put the car into gear and pressed hard on the accelerator, taking a sharp right of the steering wheel, as the tyers squealed on the pavement - silently apologising to his girl - he peeled back the way they'd come.

It could have been hours, it could have been days... Sam had no idea how long he'd been out of it for, and sadly he couldn't even bring himself to remember at all had happened. He kept his eyes closed for the moment, feeling himself being jostled gently in a moving vehicle - taking in a breath, he could smell the familiar scent of - 'home', 'safety' and 'comfort' - of the Impala. His legs were cramping from being curled up for a long period of time, stretching them out he felt the sole of his left sneaker thump against the passenger door, with his foot stopping short - being at his height he was still able to fully stretch out along the leather bench seat - then began to shift his upper half into a more comfortable position, before immediately stiffening...

...his breathing hitched, as he scrunched his eyes tighter, his whole right side was overtaken by an excrucating pain, that felt as though someone had lit a flame thrower inside him that exploded throughout the right side of his abdomen. He groaned at the pain, and wrapped both his arms over the offending area.

"Sammy?"

Sam's mind immediately clasped onto the sound of Dean's voice, he reacted by turning slightly in the direction the sound had come, and shifted wanting the close comfort that he yearned from his older brother when hurting; but the movement of his upper body caused the wound to erupt again with breathtaking pain. He winced, then tried covering it with a deep swallow, and shallow breaths.

"Easy, Sammy. Don't try to move, okay." Dean said softly, with the hopes his brother will listen. "Just keep still." He knew the kid shouldn't be moving, it was just causing unnecessary pain.

But after another moment he felt Sam shuffle again, with another moan that sounded on the verge of a sob, and let his right hand go from the steering wheel placing it protectively around his brothers rib cage being mindful of the wound, and rubbed his hand up and down his little brothers chest.

"I gotcha, Sammy," Dean soothed his thirteen-year-old brother, "I gotcha. Just stay still, okay?" He sighed thankfully at hearing his brother let out a unsteady but relaxed breath at his touch - then glanced out the windshield at the well lit road ahead; the headlights of the Impala throwing the light widespread across the road - before briefly turning his eyes back down at his brother who was again resting peacefully against him - well for the moment he was resting peacefully...

...and drove silently for a few more moments, just like that.

The loan, stark night travel continued silently along the almost isolated roads, Dean continued to grip the steering wheel with one hand as his right rested loosely splayed in the centre of his brothers chest. They were a good ten minutes out from the motel when Sam began getting restless again; he shifted his torso on the worn leather giving a shaky sigh, as both his arms protectively guarded his right side.

Dean took his eyes from the road in front and checked his rearview mirror - seeing one set of headlights behind them, but a good distance way back - then moved his vision to his brother. He knew Sammy was hurting bad, and those wounds had to be hurting like hell. But there wasn't a whole lot he could do till they reached the motel.

"You ok?" he asked gently, even though he knew his baby brother was anything but ok - but felt the need to ask anyway and received a soft moan from his brother. "We're nearly there, Sammy. Just ten more minutes, okay?" Dean reassured, pressing his foot down a little harder on the accelerator bringing the dial upto 112 in a 100 zone, and earning a determined growl from the Impala's engine... "Good girl", he silently praised the car, giving the steering wheel an affectionate pat; he'd already been going over the limit at 107, so what's another 5k's really?...

Sam sighed shortly, not feeling much upto talking to give a verbal answer. He was sure Dean knew that anyway with how attentive his brother was, he sometimes thought Dean knew him better than himself. And that says alot.

Sam shuffled in his seat again, trying for all the world to get comfy - but felt he was fighting a loosing battle with how much pain he was feeling in his mid-section. He moved his hands slightly, feeling the stickiness from the blood that'd soaked through on his fingers, and felt as though he could taste the blood with the smell of metallic so thick in the air. He groaned again with a wince as his side flared up again at the movement.

"Easy, Sammy. We're almost there." Dean murmured, giving Sam's chest an encouraging rub. He could now see the half-light neon sign for the - dump of a motel they were currently staying at - up ahead, and pushed his girl on. He turned his left indicator on, and steered the Impala up the old gravel drive of the motel, pulling in front of room 14.

"We're here, Sammy." Dean announced, as he threw the car in park and almost ripped the keys from the ignition. "Just wait here, kiddo," he said, gently guiding his brother from his denim-clad thigh - all the while the kid groaned softly at the change in position as the pain constantly licked at his side - and letting him lean back against the leather seat for the moment. "I'll come around and get you." He quickly exited the drivers side, and semi-jogged around the front end of the car to Sam's door. He could see in through the passenger window that Sam was still in the same position with his arms wrapped protectively around his right side.

Dean opened the door carefully, and leaned part way in the passenger side to reach for his brother. He gently guided Sam towards himself so he could get a better angle and grip on his little brother to carry him to the house.

"Easy, Sammy." He soothed at his brothers pained groan, and didn't fail to notice as Sam's arms tightened ever further over his abdomen. Dean placed one arm behind his brothers back as he carefully slid his other hand beneath his knees, and gently lifted Sam the rest of the way from the car and firmly to his chest.

"D'n." Sam moaned through gritted teeth at the painful transfer, as he squeezed his eyes closed.

"It's alright, Sammy. It's alright." Dean soothed but winced inside at his brothers pain, as he took a steady step backwards away from the car door with his baby brother safety in his arms, and pushed the car door closed with his hip, before carrying his brother to the motels door. He leaned against the door jamb as he once again balanced his brother, and pocketed the Impala's keys but at the same time retrieving the motels ones.

Unlocking the door, he pushed it open revealing their unkempt room that had a shared twin bed along with a tattered sofa and highly static 21 inch CRT television. A small laminated kitchenette lined the wall just off to the left of the stand held TV, then through the door on the right of the bed was a small bathroom.

Dean carried Sam over to the unmade bed, placing him down carefully on the multicoloured checkered quilt cover - whoever designed this room didn't have much in the way of the interior design department - not that Dean knew much about interior designing, but throwing together an uncoordinated chapstick of colours - even the worst offender of colour coordinators would know better than that.

Dean watched his brother instinctively curl in on himself as his hands never let up on their death grip to his side, then started to move away from the bed to fetch the first-aid.

"D'n," Sammy whimpered, seeing his brother moving away from him.

Dean turned back to face the bed, his attention immediately on his little brother - the look on his kid brothers face almost made him lose it - Sammy looked so young lying there on the double bed, so lost in the large space as ruby red blood ran down his side and into the bedding below, but worst of all he looked scared. His large brown puppy dog eyes asking Dean to make everything better, to fix everything like he knew his big brother would...

...Dean always did. Always would in Sam's eyes.

But one thing that always broke his big brother was seeing Sammy like this.

Dean could handle pretty much anything that got thrown his way - killing overgrown fuglies that'd make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and any parent to have nightmares, he'd had his mother taken from him at the tender age of four and practically raised his kid brother, hell... he'd seen his father come home with that much blood on him that it could fill the Caspian Sea, and issued more medical treatments by the age of seventeen he could be a doctor by profession. But seeing his little brother hurt, almost killed him.

Dean moved forwards again a little and knelt down on his hunches so he could look directly into Sam's eyes, and placed a comforting hand to his brothers upper arm, rubbing softly.

"It's alright, Sammy." Dean soothed, wishing he could take the pain from his brother. "You know, I'm here. And I'd never let anything happen to you, right?"

Sam believed his brother, every word of it. Dean would rather die than let anything happen to Sam. Sam nodded, as his heart and facial features threw off full trust as he glanced up at Dean through his bangs; the puppy eyes never let up.

"That's right, kiddo. And don't you ever forget it. Now let's get this first aid and patch you back up to your pain-in-the-ass self. What do you say little brother?" Dean said trying to keep his voice light to match that of the comment itself, and hopefully ease his brother a little. But however, it didn't come across that way; his tone dripped with a broken heaviness, much like the situation before him. He watched as Sam tried to crack a grin, but however the expression itself came across more as a pained look.

To most people, or in Sam's case - teenagers - being called a pain-in-the-ass by your older brother would have been said in hurt, or as in insult, or maybe to get said little brother to stop annoying you, or away from you when trying to hang with your older group of friends. And statistics show most brotherly relationships at this level. But not Sam and Dean. Theirs was different. Being called a pain-in-the-ass wasn't about hurt, or payback, or even jealousy, it wasn't even said with an ounce of anger. The fact is, it was a simple statement, one so clear to both Winchesters - it was just another expression for... I love you. Among their many others.

Sam scrunched his eyes together tightly as he tried to fight the painful fire burning at his side. It was time to get Sammy patched up, the kid was hurting and Dean couldn't stand seeing him like it any longer.

"I'll be right back, okay?" He reassured the kid, and stood back to his full height. He turned in the direction of the bathroom, but before entering he pulled his old warn black Metallica shirt that'd been tossed carelessly over the back of a wooden kitchen chair the day before, and shrugged it on over his head - whilst pulling the amulet to the front - as he passed through the bathroom door.

The kit was still lying left and untouched on the long porcelain bench that joined with the mint green porcelain sink - the whole bathroom was washed in the same mint colour, even the toilet except it was fortunate enough to gain a white lid. Along the wall was a full length mirror that was cut off by the shower beside it. Dean quickly grabbed the kit from the bench, and made his way over to the bed again.

Dean rounded to the opposite side of the bed, with Sam facing directly away from him. "Alright, Sammy." Dean licked his dry lips, as he knelt on the bed beside his brother. He placed the non store brought kit - that contained almost anything that was held, or rather was once held, in the hospital medical cabinets... that'd been silently pocketed on their rare off hospital visits - on the muti-coloured quilt beside himself.

"D'n," Sam half sobbed, as he curled even more in on himself and forcefully cluched at his side - the pain was slowly getting the better of him; like a never ending wall of flames licking his insides then every couple of seconds after the most excruciating pain would shoot through almost stealing his breath. He could never wish this pain upon anybody, not even his worst enemy... and that was a huge deal to think for a thirteen-year-old boy.

Dean studied his little brother for a moment, knowing the kid needed comforting above all else. He shifted back carefully to avoid rocking the bed, placing his back up against the headboard and splayed his legs out infront of him in a V shape. He knew shifting his brother would be a bitch, but Sam having the close comfort was first priority. He leaned his torso forwards, and carefully, very carefully snaked his arm underneath his brothers left side.

"D'n...?"

"Just bear with me, Sammy." He reassured, guiding his other hand under his brothers bent knees, then with great caution that only one could have with another they loved so strongly, moving his brother so the kid was practically laying in his lap. The kids thighs rested over his knees as his backside and back took priority between his legs and rested on the quilt cover, as his upper body leaned against Dean's opposite thigh with his head tucked against his stomach.

"You can thank me later for being so awesome." He teased, rubbing his open palm on Sam's upper arm.

Sam laughed softly, then moaned at the slight movement of his side.

Dean gently removed his hands away from Sam and turned slightly to his right to where he'd sat the first aid. He pulled the red softpack case closer to himself and pulled on the middle black zipper, unzipping it till it hit the other side of the large brick shaped med-kit, revealing the contents of the second - and largest - compartment.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked miserably, as he watched his brother.

"Well, Sammy. I need to stitch you up, but first I need to clean the wound. Think you can handle that, kiddo?" Dean asked honestly, knowing full well that the hydrogen peroxide was going to hurt like a bitch. But the wound had to be cleaned, Sammy would be worse off if an infection spread because it wasn't cleaned properly. And on Dean's watch that wasn't even an option.

Sam gave an uncertain nod; knowing the wound had to be cleaned, but in two minds about having it done. One - it was going to hurt, and two - it WAS going to HURT. Sam watched warily as Dean pulled a brown glass bottle with a white twist cap from the first aid, then retrieved a fresh white cloth from the same compartment.

"Shirt up, Sammy." Dean gently told his brother as he untwisted the cap, while keeping a cautious eye on his little brother.

...

Bella Lilac