DISCLAIMER: Don't own Supernatural, Sam or Dean. I only use them for entertainment. They lead intriguing lives…
A/N: This is my first fan fic ever; so if anything is wrong, let me know. Reviews and constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated.
Hope you enjoy.
WARNINGS: As always, general Sam and Dean angst, hurt and emotions. I don't like the idea of Wincest, so you don't need to worry…rated T just to be safe.
Better the Devil you know:
Chapter one:
Sam was roused suddenly into conscious, with barely any recognition of what got him in that state in the first place.
He did know one thing though.
His head hurt like a bitch!
"Dean?" he called, not able to open his eyes, for the constant stabbing pain disallowed it.
"How you feelin' Sasquatch?" Came the elder's prompt reply.
"Hurts…my head…what happened?" Sam inquired, daring to open his eyes just a fraction, to see where he was.
Above him, Dean's concerned face loomed, taking up most of his peripheral vision.
"Took a header down the stairs Sammy-boy. You had me worried for a while there," He joked; a grin painting his features, his eyes, however, remained worried.
Sam frowned. "How…" he asked, attempting to rise.
"I imagine," Dean began, pushing Sam gently back into his original position. "That you tripped over those freakishly long legs of yours,"
Sam rolled his eyes, but the movement caused more pain, and he let out a wince.
"You cool?" inquired the elder, now returning to mother hen mode, upon hearing Sam's pained sound.
"Yeah, I guess. It just hurts a bit," he assured. A bit? Try a whole fucking lot.
"Can you get up? I need to get you back to the motel, so I can fix you up," Dean stated.
Sam nodded, and sat with the assistance of his sibling.
A wave of nausea washed over him, and he tilted to the side, to expel his stomach contents.
Long after there was nothing else to heave, he continued to dry wretch painfully.
Dean was crouched behind his brother, squeezing the back of his neck gently as the sounds of his brother's tortured heaving echoed through the night.
Now spent, he sat gasping, wiping the tears away from his face.
"Sammy, are you alright now?" Dean asked gently, cupping the young man's face and lifting it so that their eyes met.
The younger Winchester's sea-green eyes were filled with pain and confusion. The pupils were also of unequal sizes.
Shit. Dean thought, his heart pounding at the discovery of his brother's apparent concussion.
"Can we go now?" Sam rasped, dragging himself to his feet.
Dean allowed the younger man to lean on him as they hobbled through the gloom toward the car.
As the eldest unlocked the doors, Sam leant against the Impala's frame, willing himself to stay calm as pain jumped about in his head.
"Ready to go Sasquatch?" Dean asked from the opposite side of the car.
Sam slid into the passenger side and slammed the door shut.
All he wanted to do now was sleep.
He rested his head on the cold window, and allowed his eyes to slide shut, before Dean reached over and shook him. "I don't think so pal. You have a concussion. You need to stay awake," Dean instructed firmly, as he started the car, allowing the vibrations of the classic engine to relax him.
"But…I'm so tired," Sam whispered.
"Tough shit geek boy. Keep those eyes open until I say," Dean ordered
He hated to order his brother around in that voice, but it was the only way Sam was likely to listen to him.
He knew Sam would stay awake. If he could.
Dean looked in both side mirrors, before backing out of the driveway.
It had been one long hunt.
It was two weeks ago they had checked into the scant motel in the middle of Dakota.
Sam had read something in the papers about strange occurrences at an old steel mill on the outskirts of Aberdeen.
It was a poltergeist, but it had a different style. It turned out the entity was a fusion of three workers who, in their anger over the treatment of the workers, completed a suicide pact, and then jumping into giant mashing machines. Their remains were mixed, thus their spirits were joined and they had been wreaking havoc on the current shift.
The brother's did their research, and headed out and now, with their job complete, the weary travelers made their way back to the motel.
Dean's eyes flicked constantly from the road to his brother, and occasionally had to shake the younger man to ensure that he hadn't fallen into unconsciousness.
"Dude, lay off," Sam mumbled, swatting Dean's hand away as he began to shake him once more.
"Stay awake then bro, we'll be there soon," he said, turning his tired eyes back to the road.
"Whatever, just stop frickin' shaking me. It hurts,"
"Sorry man…"
Not more than five minutes later, the familiar sign loomed ahead and Dean executed the sharp turn into the motel.
Sam grumbled something incoherent and Dean chose to ignore it. Instead, he got from the car and rushed over to the passenger side, to help his brother.
"Dude, I'm not an invalid," Sam muttered, pushing unsteadily past his brother and digging around for the key for their room. He fished it from one of his deep jacket pockets and fumbled with the lock momentarily, swearing when it didn't turn straight away.
For a minute a wrestled with the stubborn lock, his vision clouding annoyingly as he did so.
Finally, the door swung inwards, admitting the brothers.
Sam collapsed onto his bed, and was about to slip off, until Dean flicked on the overhead light, blinding him momentarily, and causing the pain to flare.
"Fuck…" he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Sorry Sammy, but I need to look you over before you go to sleep." He said soothingly, disappearing into the bathroom to look for the first aid kit.
Meanwhile, Sam shuffled backwards so that his throbbing head was resting on the soft pillows.
Dean padded out, clutching the bag and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, to clean the gash that was now visible on Sam's forehead.
"Sammy, this is gonna hurt a bit, so just grab my arm if it gets too bad," Dean instructed, placing a cotton square over the top of the bottle and shaking it, so that the square was covered with the liquid.
He then dabbed the wound gently, watching grimly as his brother's face pulled itself into a painful grimace.
"Dammit!" Sam breathed, tears leaking from his eyes.
"Its okay man, I've finished cleaning it…but it does need stitches,"
Oh god, I hate stitches…Sam thought
"Okay, just hurry…I wanna sleep,"
Dean rummaged around and found the curved needle that he always used to stitch Sammy's wounds. He threaded black cotton into the eye of the needle and began to stitch the gash together.
Sam winced as the sharp needle pricked his skin and the feeling of his skin being pulled closed, made him feel physically sick.
"Dean…I don't feel so good…" Sam murmured as he felt his consciousness waning.
"Just hang in there for a second more kiddo," Dean assured, wishing himself that it was over.
"C-c-cant," Sam stammered, the shock setting in.
"Yeah you can Sammy," Dean said, not really believing either.
"D-d-dean…"
"Stay with me dude, I'm done,"
Sam's grip loosened, and Dean watched on, unable to do anything as his eyelids fluttered.
"Shit Sammy," Dean muttered as his brother lost consciousness.
He knew then and there that he wouldn't be sleeping that night.
He had to keep an eye out on his baby brother.
Well? What do you think? Should I continue? If so please review to tell me how I'm doing.
Thank you guys!