Note: This story is very rough. My first wee!chester fic and only my second story. Please read and review and tell me what you think.
Disclaimer: Supernatural characters and storyline are property of Eric Kripke and associated publishers/licensers.
"Don't die please don't die!"
The plea was desperately wrung from the strangled voice of the fifteen year old kid trying to hold in the gushing blood of his brother. It hurt more to hear than the gash along his ribs, courtesy of some jacked up douche bag at the bar they had just hustled. Dean hadn't had a choice about it. With their father away again he had to scrounge up cash if they wanted to keep eating. When in need hustle bars, right dad? But without fail there was always one hillbilly with a grudge and a knife, which Dean would have seen coming if he hadn't been so preoccupied with watching his little brother getting chatted up by some cougar.
"Sammy, keep your eyes on the damn road! I'll be fine if you don't drive us head first into a tree!"
Sweat had drenched his body and Dean knew he needed to get patched up real fast which was becoming less and less likely with Sam trying to drive and keep pressure on his wound. If Sam wasn't careful he would likely bleed out all over his baby. The upholstery in the impala was slick with Dean's blood and the august heat was suffocating making the air putrid.
The smell, the taste, and the sound of Sammy sobbing were becoming overwhelming but Dean tried not to lose consciousness. He knew their father was going to have a fit when he learned he had let Sam come out on a hustling job with him let alone one that had resulted in a bar fight. Sam had seen his fair share of salt and burns but they had been trying to ease him into the actual hands on danger slowly. Sam wasn't too keen on the whole thing either. He was trained for sure and could easily hold his own which he had proved tonight against that dick but Dean just wasn't sure if Sam wanted to be in the family business. Dean could nearly understand why when he looked into the eyes of his terrified little brother. Sam was clutching Dean's side, eyes flicking between the road and his slickened hand covering Dean's own trying to stop the bleeding.
"Who would want this life?" thought Dean as the edges of his vision blurred and Sam's shinning eyes faded into black.
You can't die, you can't die on me now you jerk, thought Sam as he hauled his unconscious brother into their motel room. He knew he was panicking but that didn't make him slow down. He had to save Dean, Dean was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that ever mattered and Sam wasn't going to let him check out early, not after just realising it. He quickly laid his brother on the bed and grabbed the med kit that was always close at hand. He had seen his brother do this for their dad many times and he had even been allowed to finish Dean's shoulder up once under John careful supervision. That had been a small cut with minimal bleeding, this was serious. He cut open Dean's shirt, exposing his gashing side. No wonder Dean had passed out, an inch or two deeper and Dean would probably be dead already. Clearing the blood as much as he could Sam poured the remnants of John's whiskey bottle over it and then as quickly as he could he got to work sowing.
Sam watched Dean sleep, his crumpled face still lined with tension. He had done his best but he had to admit that it had been a piss poor job. He knew he was going to get shit from dad for the jagged scar he had left Dean with but he couldn't help it, his hands had been shaking too much and his eyes had been blurry with tears. It was a poor excuse. Dean would have been able to do it drunk AND blindfolded.
Rising from his place on the floor Sam entered the bathroom and proceeded to scrub his hands clean of blood, Dean's blood. His heart was still pounding from it all. He remembered that woman trying to twist his arm into having something stronger than a beer but seeing Dean watching him from across the room so he knew that meant he shouldn't. Dean had been keeping a close eye on him all night and when he had glared at the woman Casey, Sam's heart had jumped in his chest. Maybe she was dangerous and that's why Dean had been sending him the back off signal. Dean looked worried and annoyed and he had opened his mouth to say something when he had gasped and clutched his side. That inbred ass bag had stabbed him when Dean hadn't been looking. Sam's first reaction was shock which had been swiftly following by anger. Red rage had spewed from his mouth and he was on the man in a second. Sam might have really damaged him if he hadn't heard Dean's grunts of pain.
Sam had never imagined Dean could ever be hurt, not really. He had seen him getting stabbed but it hadn't registered Dean had been badly injured. Dean was a rock, an iron warrior that could face and defeat any foe. Seeing him in a pool of his own blood, struggling to get up had sent Sam on a one way street to freak out town. Dean's voice saying name over and over again like a prayer had been like torture. He wanted to do something he just had no fucking clue what to do. Dean was the one who took care of everything, he was the one who always had a plan. So he had just moved on autopilot and prayed to a higher power he was doing the right thing.
With a heart still cold from dread Sam made his way over to Dean's bed and curled up in front of his brother, watching him with avid eyes. He was afraid Dean might not wake up in the morning and he had no one to call for help. All he had was Dean and all he could do was curl into him and breathe his breath, proof he was still alive. His fingertips tried to smooth the stress from his face gently caressing the dark hallows around his eyes. Dean had such a beautiful face and it deserved to always be laughing, he just needed to make it through the night.