Disclaimer: I own nothing that has anything to do with Supernatural or the characters, unless you count the DVDs. This is just for fun.

New fic, Enjoy

John Winchester had been outside working on the impala when it happened.

Four year old Sammy Winchester was going through a 'tag' phase, he loved playing tag, he thought it was great, his eight year old brother, Dean went along with it.

Dean was running past his bed, when he slipped. He fell against the head of the bed, but it wasn't a dull pain, from a general whack to the side as he went down, it was sharp, agonising.

Unable to stop himself, Dean cried out in pain.

John came running from outside upon hearing his son's cry, he found Dean lying on the floor by his bed, bleeding profusely from his side, there was a bloodied knife less than a foot away.

"Oh my god." John knew what had happened, he knew dean kept a knife under his pillow, hell he'd ordered him to.

John had been horrified, but he had to push his feelings aside, for Dean and Sammy's sakes, he comforted Dean, told him to put pressure on the wound, as he took Sam into the other room.

This was how Dean would have his first set of amateur sutures. John was pretty sure that he wasn't going to win father of the year for what he was about to do, but he couldn't risk taking his eight year old son into the ER, saying that he fell onto a knife.

Too many questions.

"You remember when you fell off the bunk beds when we were staying in Chicago, and the doctor had to stitch up that cut on your head?"

Dean nodded, tears still rolling down his face. It hurt so much.

Seeing the pain etching in Dean's face, John took a bottle of whiskey from his first aid kit, it wasn't a true anaesthetic, but John knew from experience that it was better than nothing, and so he held the bottle to his eldest son's lips, "Drink, Dean... It'll help, just drink it down."

Dean didn't question John as he took a mouthful of whiskey, it burned his throat, he coughed and spluttered, but he did manage to swallow some. John repeated this a few more times, until he was satisfied that Dean had swallowed enough.

"I have to take a look, Dean, I'm not gonna lie to you kiddo, it's gonna hurt, but it'll be over soon," John told his son honestly, trying to ignore the slightly glazed over look in Dean's eyes.

But Dean's fear wasn't for himself, he trusted his father, he won't do anything to hurt him, Dean was worried about Sam, the kid was probably already blaming himself, seeing all this would only make it worse. "Dad, where's Sammy? He can't be here."

"He's watching cartoons in the other room, set him up with headphones," John reassured his eldest, as he searched through the first aid kit, taking out gauze, scissors, forceps, antiseptic liquid, suture materials, he laid them out on the end of the bed, out of Dean's sight as he lay on the bed, cringing at even the slightest movement.

John tried to be gentle as he probed the wound, the knife was already out, Dean had pulled it out before John could stop him.
Dean sobbed, shifted uncomfortably under his father's ministrations.

There was nothing in the wound as far as John could see, and it didn't look like it had hit anything major, but it had gone right through, it must have hurt. John sighed in regret, this wasn't the life he wanted for his kids, being around violence, evil, weapons. "It's not so bad, kiddo. But it's going to need a few stitches to stop the bleeding. It's going to hurt, son, it's going to hurt a lot, but I've got to do this."

"It'll scare Sammy, if I shout, I don't wanna scare Sammy." Dean's compassion and concern for his brother, even when he was hurt, facing the prospect of more pain touched John.

John thought for a moment, the pain of suturing without anaesthetic was severe, agonising. He had felt it several times now, if someone else was doing to stitching, burying your head in a pillow, biting down on it worked well, socks once you got past the ick factor also worked. "Roll onto your stomach, kiddo. If it hurts, just bite down on the pillow, I'll be as quick as I can."

Dean was terrified, but complied, he always complied. At first he only pressed his face into the pillow.

John took his time gently cleaning the wound out with water, longer still setting up the suturing materials in his reach, threading the suture material into a suture needle, products acquired at the hospital in the last town, less than legally.

But finally he couldn't put it off any longer, the wound was still seeping blood. John placed a steadying hand on Dean's back, near where he would be stitching. "Okay, Dean. Here we go, just keep breathing, it'll be over before you know it."

Dean was shaking, John felt like a true failure of a parent as he took the blunt end of the needle in the tip of the forceps, giving him the best grip on the needle. He sighed sadly, before he pushed the needle through Dean's soft flesh.

Dean bucked violently, it was just as bad as when the knife first went in, he screamed out in agony.

"Easy, Dean, easy," John soothed.

John knew it wasn't going to get any easier, and so he went to continue, but just as he took hold of the embedded needle once again, a small, frightened voice broke into his thoughts.

"Dean? Daddy? Why you crying, Dean?" Four year old Sammy asked fearfully from the doorway.

John was about to move to forcibly take Sam back into the other room, maybe even set him up in the car outside for awhile, but then Dean, putting on a brave face for his baby brother, said, "Daddy's gotta fix me up, go back in the living room, draw me a picture, I'll be out real soon."

Sam smiled innocently, maybe Dean would help him with his colouring when he was done.

Once Sam was out of the room, Dean immediately apologised, "Sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to yell, it just..."

John had nearly screamed the first time he'd been stitched up, and he was a grown man. "Don't even think about it, kiddo. You okay to keep going?"

Dean nodded bravely as he put his head back into the pillow, this time taking his father's advice, and biting down on a chunk of the motel room pillow.

It was all John could do not to cry as he restarted, every time he pushed the needle through, every time he had to pull the thread through the wound, Dean would buck, cry out, his cries were muffled by the pillow.

It broke John's heart.

Eight sutures were needed to close the wound in Dean's back, and they had both breathed a sigh of relief when it was over, but that was only halfway done.

They didn't have a long reprieve between the back and front though, John knew it would only be harder the longer they waited, he gave Dean another swig of alcohol, then had one himself, before restarting the gruelling task.

This time Dean lay on his back.

It took two and a half hours in total, twenty-one sutures. John slathered on antiseptic ointment, and applied a dressing to each wound.

As soon as his father was finished, despite the pain, dean got off the bed, and went out to where Sam was still sitting on the floor in front of the TV, colouring.

"Heya Sammy, finished that picture yet?"

He had to take care of his little brother.

The End