One Shot, Two Words; Dean – Concussion.
Sam barely had time to react as he saw his brother being flung across the room, and his head being introduced to a large Grandfather clock. In one quick motion, Sam swiftly decapitated the vampire he was preoccupied with and hurried over to Dean.
'Dean? You with me?' Sam questioned, putting the blade back in its pouch safely.
Both Sam and Dean had had their fair share of bumps, bruises and bashes but somehow, they had climbed through it all. It was rarely anything serious.
'Uerrrgh.' Dean managed to enunciate whilst his eyes flickered open.
'OK, take it easy buddy, you hit your head pretty hard there.' Sam said, as he assessed the damage.
An angry bruise was forming near Dean's hairline and a trickle of blood slid down his face. His eyes were pretty much open now, but they were no way focused on anything in particular.
'OK, how many fingers Dean?' He asked as he held up three.
'I dunno. 'Ow many c'n you fit up there S'mmy boy.' Dean replied with a hollow laugh.
'Dean. I'm serious.'
Sam knew Dean was kidding around because he hadn't the slightest clue how many fingers he was holding up. Confusion. Blurred vision. Irritable state. Slow reactions. It was a concussion more than likely. Although, the irritable state was just Dean being a douche.
'Right, nothing we haven't handled before, up you get, we're going to the motel so I can keep an eye on you for a while.'
'Don't be such a perv S'mmy, I'll be f'n.' Dean said deliriously as he tried to stand up without even thinking.
Sam's quick reactions flared up and he grabbed his brother round his waist, holding him upright. Dean didn't protest.
By some miracle, they made it to the Impala, with Dean's head lolling foreword every thirty seconds or so.
'Dean? What did I say? Don't fall asleep. Don't pass out. Don't close your eyes for more than a second.' Sam reiterated, heaving Dean into the passenger seat.
'Eh! I w'nna drive S'm. I c'n drive my car.' Dean insisted, putting up a fight that was easily subdued by Sam.
'Dean, they only thing you'll be riding in the next week is the bed of magic fingers. Sit down and count to twenty.' Sam replied, shoving Dean's head back inside the car.
The bleeding had stopped but the bruise looked even angrier than before. Sam made a mental note to stop off to get some painkillers. If Dean couldn't feel it now, he sure would in the morning.
With Dean safely in his seat, Sam shut his door for him and walked round to the other side. He started the engine up, and hit the gas.
'No-no, S'm STOP.' Dean's wild voice cried out.
Sam stopped the car just feet away from where it started, just in time for Dean to force the door open and retch onto the pavement outside.
Looking around to see if anyone noticed, Sam awkwardly patted Dean's back.
'Real classy Dean. Real classy.' He said with a small laugh, getting out the car again to sort Dean out.
The smell of half digested burger and pie had somehow managed to seep into the Impala from outside, right where Sam normally sat. Great, he thought, just great.
'OK, Dean, take two. And crack the window open a little. The fresh air will help. Trust me.' Sam said, recalling the time he had managed to get a concussion back in Illinois last year.
For the second time, Sam started the engine up and started to drive. It was a silent half hour journey from the warehouse to the motel, too silent. The thought of getting painkillers completely slipping his mind.
'Dean?' Sam asked, prodding his brother with his free hand at a red light. 'You with me?'
Dean's head was tilting to one side and Sam couldn't see whether his eyes were open or not.
'I'm here without you baaaby.' He sang lazily 'G'd God I hate that band so much.' Dean's voice trailed off and he absent mindedly stared straight ahead.
'Dude, you love that song. Don't pretend.' Sam replied, knowing full well Dean sang it in the shower on a more than regular basis than necessary.
The motel was in view and Sam parked up, trying to decide his next move. Of course, he could just call Cas. They were the only other magic fingers that worked for Dean. But he couldn't, not after they promised each other not to be dependent on him. Dean would realise Cas had healed him.
Sighing at Dean's pride and stubbornness, he got out the car and slammed the door shut. Walking around to Dean's side, he attempted the tough love technique.
'Right, Dean, I don't have time for this. We're at the motel, I'll get you some ice for your head but you gotta' get out the car.' He said firmly.
'Ice ice baby.' Dean said, chuckling to himself.
Nonetheless, Dean pushed himself up and for a moment, he was standing on his own two feet, planted firmly on the ground. It looked hopeful. Then, in one swift movement, his head seemed to relax backwards and he started sliding down the car, his eyes losing what focus they had left.
'Whoa, Dean. Just take it easy.' Sam said, maneuvering around Dean, shutting the car door and hitching him up from under his arms.
He considered a fireman's lift, but there was no way Dean would agree. Instead, Sam slid his arms so one was around Dean's waist, and the other was free to provide some sort of balance.
'We're gonna' start walking now, OK?' Said Sam.
Dean's eyes were fluttering open and closed, a battle between consciousness and unconsciousness going on. However, he seemed to support some of his weight by himself and it wasn't as hard as first anticipated.
Sam managed to help Dean to the room, only letting him lean against the wall whilst he sorted out the keys to open the door.
Once in the room, Sam sat Dean down on the desk chair, as opposed to the bed.
'OK, I'll get some ice; there's some in the freezer. Just stay in the chair and don't do anything stupid.' Even as he said it, he knew Dean was barely registering conversation, let alone commands he ignored anyway.
Running the ice cubes under the hot water tap to loosen them from their tray, Sam grabbed a towel from the bathroom and tipped the ice cubes into it. He tied it like a gift bag at the top.
'S'm?' Dean called from only feet away.
'Yea, I'm coming now.' He replied, stepping over to him, gently placing the ice on the damage to his head.
'S'm, magic finger t'me now.' Dean said, vaguely pointing in the general direction of the bed.
'Sorry Dean, magic fingers will have to wait until the morning. I can't have you falling asleep with a concussion like this. Besides, you know how uncomfortable it makes me when you get that much pleasure from a vibrating bed.'
'Uergh. Fine, 'n stop bein' a b'by with the ice. It's not even doin' anythin'.' Said Dean wearily, taking the bundle of wrapped ice from Sam's hand and pressing it harder onto his head.
'Ow. Hurts.' Dean said a moment later, letting Sam take over again.
After all the ice had melted, and Dean's shirt was appropriately soaked in water, Sam sat on the bed and waited.
'I'm gonna' sit here for a bit OK? Where were we born Dean?' He asked precautious.
'Friggin' popsicle land.' Dean replied back.
'I'm serious Dean, I'm taking you to a doctor if you don't answer me.'
Even though Sam knew Dean would call his bluff, he answered anyway.
'Lawrence, Kansas. I drive '67 Impala, I like long walks on the beach and my brother's a douchebag.' Dean replied with a cocky smile.
Well, his condition was certainly better.
'Fine. But I'm giving it a couple more hours before you can sleep. What do you remember about hitting your head?'
'We were on a hunt.' Dean said simply.
'Well, yes, but elaborate a bit.' Sam replied.
Dean looked at the desk. A matchstick box with 'Springfield's Best Rodeo' lay beside him.
'Yea. Y'no, in Springfield.'
Sam looked at Dean and followed his eye line to the matchstick box.
'That was two weeks ago. I used those matches to sterilize a needle before we left.' Sam said.
'I know that.' Said Dean casually, searching for an excuse.
'No, Dean, you didn't. You've got a concussion, so just drink plenty of water and sit there. I'll be right here if you need anything.' Sam said, running his fingers through his hair.
'Sam?' Dean said.
'Yes?'
'I need something.'
'And what's that?'
'Water.' Dean said with a big grin.
'And you call me a douchebag.'