Disclaimer:Supernatural belongs to the ingenious Eric Kripke and associates, I'm just taking my favorite boys on a little outing, they will be returned... eventually! Mwah ha ha ha (evil laughs).
Summary: It doesn't matter what the circumstances are, its always Dean's job to take care of Sam. HurtDean! and HurtLimpSam!
Spoilers: Set before All Hell Breaks Loose.
Its My Job
As he coughs, the crimson viscous fluid floods his mouth, choking him. The metallic taste making his stomach heave.
Slowly turning his head to the side he coughs again, the liquid trickling from his mouth at a steady pace, sinking into the soil beneath him.
His lungs burn, his chest aches and his whole body is screaming in a silent, unheard plea. He feels broken, damaged and lost and he's so fucking scared.
His eyes, bright with unshed tears, flutter closed and he fights to open them again, afraid that if they stay closed for too long, they will never again open. He can't die now, Dean needs him, Dean can't lose anyone else, not after dad.
Footsteps quickly approaching has his heart pounding and the blood rushing in his ears. He stand no chance against another attack, his body abused as it is has already begun giving up.
"Sammy, where the hell are you?" he can hear Dean's anxious voice penetrating through the fog of pain and he opens his mouth to call his big brother.
"De..." is all he manages to croak out before he begins coughing again, the blood rising in his throat and pouring from his lips.
He looks up toward the darkened sky and the bushes surrounding his battered form, hiding him from view. As he takes in his surroundings he finds himself growing tired and his eyes slowly close as he slips into blissful unconsciousness.
xxx
The blood dripping from his head doesn't even slow down his determined march, like a solider ready for battle, looking for a fallen comrade, a fallen brother. He's covered with the warm red liquid and he knows he's hurt pretty badly, but he won't stop, can't stop until he finds Sammy. Dammit he'd promised, promised his dad that he'd protect Sam, keep him safe, it's his job, his responsibility the one thing he's always been able to do right. Sammy is all he has left and he's not willing to lose the one thing that keeps him sane.
Without Sam all that changes, he's got nothing left, he's achieved nothing tangible, has nothing to show for all he's done. He's done so much in his life, but no one remembers hunters, they hide and they lie and their names are blackened, but no one sees the good they've done, the lives they've saved. The people they've helped would sooner forget them, because if they don't exist then maybe the ghosts and demons don't either.
His life is anything but fair, he's given everything, everything he's had and everything he is, everything except Sam, and even him they want to take away. The demons want his baby brother, the man that he's raised from a baby, the one good thing he has left, and he's not going to let it happen, even if they take him down in the process, because if he dies saving Sam then his life means something, he's achieved something.
His eyes are blurring now, the gash on his head still freely bleeding and he's getting tired. His fear for Sam's welfare has increased dramatically in the last few minutes and he's more scared than he's been in a long time. He needs to find his brother now, to know that he's safe and to have a good long lie down before he passes out.
He opens his mouth, the words he speaks coming out more anxious than he would ever like to admit as he calls for his baby brother. "Sammy, where the hell are you?" He strains to hear anything, his head throbbing painfully and the blood roaring in his ears. Finally he hears something, a coughing choking sound not too far from him and he quickly spins his body to face the direction of the noise. He belatedly realises his mistake as his legs collapse from under him at the fast movement.
His frustration growing he cries out in anger and pain. His body is throbbing and he struggles to stand again, his legs betraying him as they repeatedly buckle under his weight. Finally he manages to get his body upright and he staggers forward, in the direction of the noise. Hoping he can find Sam quickly and get them both back to the motel room.
He makes his way through the wooded area, branches catching him, making him stumble slightly at times. Its dark and he has no light, this wasn't meant to happen, they were meant to be out of here before it got dark. It wasn't meant to go wrong, just dealing with an angry spirit, an everyday thing for them, nothing new. Just a routine salt and burn, not this.
xxx
He replayed the images in his mind, the vision of his little brother being dragged away by a seriously pissed off ghost. He'd never felt so helpless watching his brother being taken further and further away from him, but being thrown and hitting his head on the trunk of a huge assed tree really hadn't helped him, and he'd fallen unconscious.
He'd woken to the darkening sky, not sure how much time had passed, but knowing he needed to burn the crap outta the ghost and find Sam.
He'd burnt the bones, but not before another battle with Casper the annoying ghost. He'd been impaled in this fight, the branch of the tree penetrating his upper chest, finally sir spookalot had vanished and the next battle had begun.
Now he's walking through the forest, he's bleeding, cold and tired but mostly he's scared.
xxx
He's still walking, he can't remember how long he's been walking for but he can't stop moving, not yet. As he moves further forward he trips, his foot catching on something solid, sending his injured and bloodied form crashing to the ground.
Oh for fucks sake, give me a goddamn break. Pissed off he tries to stand up again, looking back to kick whatever took him down. He double takes, seeing the fragile and broken form of his baby brother lying next to him.
Spurred forward he scoots his body close to his brother, stroking his long hair back from his bloody forehead. Looking him over, checking his injuries. His fists clenching as he notices exactly how battered his brother really is, the blood trailing from his lips and nose, his face unrecognisable.
"Sammy, wake up for me, please Sammy, don't fucking do this to me."
His fingers move to his brother's neck searching for the telltale thump of his pulse and noting the finger mark bruises adorning Sam's throat. He feels it under his fingers, the steady but feint thump and he's relieved, until he realises, Sam isn't breathing.
xxx
A/N: This is only going to be about three chapters long. Nothing huge. Let me know what you guys think. Please review.