We've All Got Bruises

All right, the title comes from "Bruises" by Train, because I was listening to it while writing this.

WARNING: Shameless whump shall be following. The poor Winchesters. They're already tormented enough, I don't need to be putting them through this.

Note: I'm not sure if the Impala is stick shift or automatic. Dean seems like the type to have a stick shift, and the car is kinda old, so on one hand, I want to say that it's a stick-shift. However, automatics were invented in the fifties, and the Impala is a '67. Plus we never see Dean shift. So I'm gonna go with an automatic. If you gotta problem with it, then that's your problem. Go eat some pie or something, chill out.

Other note: I'm new to the fandom, so if you see glaring errors, please let me know. Forgive my youthful ignorance.

"Dean!" Sam puffed, running hard up the hill to keep even with his brother's furious strides.

"Hush, Sam!" Dean called harshly.

Sam felt a tear pinprick behind his eyes, but didn't want to give Dean the chance to make fun of him or call him even more of a baby. He sniffed and pushed his burning legs even harder, finally pausing at the top of the hill next to his older brother. Dean was barely breathing hard as he surveyed the haunted house that sat just at the base of the hill. He eagerly ran down, windmilling his arms to help keep his balance. Sam followed, less gracefully. He stumbled once or twice, but managed to regain his balance.

Dean turned his flashlight on, the beam bouncing wildly around as he ran. He stopped on the porch of the house; it creaked ominously and did nothing to quell Sam's rising panic.

"Dean…" Sam whined. "Dad said we're not s'pposed to go anywhere! He told us to stay-"

"Aw, quit being a big baby, wouldja? It's just a haunted house! We've been to millions of 'em! Besides, how often does a haunted house actually turn out to be haunted? It's usually just a bunch of teenagers pulling some bull shit."

Sam's eyes widened slightly. But after Dean fearlessly opened the door and plunged inside the house, Sam followed reluctantly, not wanting to be left alone on the porch. He turned off his flashlight, not wanting the wiggling beam to give away the shaking of his hands. Sam wanted nothing more than to loop his fingers through his confident brother's belt loops, but again, he was sick of Dean teasing him. He wanted to prove to Dean that he could be tough, too.

Suddenly, Sam heard the breaking of glass. "Dean?!" he shouted

"Dammit," he cursed.

"What was that?" Sam asked, fighting to keep the panic out of his voice.

"Just a fucking vase. Knocked it over. Watch out for the glass."

Sam skirted carefully around the glass and returned to his brother's side. He breathed a sigh of relief. Just being closer to his brother made him feel better.

"Did you hear that?" asked Sam

"Hear what?"

"That creaking noise. It sounded like a door opening."

"Aw, hush up, Sam, you're just imagining things. Quit being a baby."

Sam bit his lip. He knew he hadn't imagined it. He had definitely heard a door opening. Then he heard the creaking of wood. Dean glanced at him with wide eyes, so Sam knew he had heard it as well. Dean silenced Sam's unasked question with a terse hand gesture. Sam nodded and watched his brother stealthily walk around the corner, his pistol held in front to protect him.

Sam was extremely nervous about this entire situation. Dean had stolen the pistol from his Dad (he was out hunting…as per usual.) and snuck out, even though Dad had specifically told them not to leave. Normally Sam didn't really mind breaking the rules, but this was just so arbitrary, and besides, no one was there to help them! Nobody knew where they were, and Dad didn't even know they were gone. They were screwed if something happened. He looked through the door that Dean had left open and saw the brown dead grass on the hill. He couldn't see the Impala, but he knew that it was just behind the hill there. He really wished he was sitting shotgun, with Dean driving and the hard rock playing quietly, just like normal.

He sighed and followed Dean around the corner. Nothing on Earth could have prepared him for what he saw next:

A giant grey blur moved faster than Sam's eyes could see and jumped on Dean, tackling him to the ground. He heard a horrible snap and heard Dean cry out in pain. The 9mm fell from his grasp and slid across the dusty, wooden floor. Dean grabbed his leg, panting hard through the pain.

Sam's heart wrenched in sympathy, and he momentarily froze in fear. His eyes grew big and his bangs tickled his forehead. A moment later, his heart started beating again, in double time, and his instincts took over. He ran across the floor and grabbed the gun. He turned around and shot the animal before he had even looked through the messy bangs of his hair and aimed properly. After one shot, the animal was dead. Sam threw the gun aside and ran over to his brother.

"Dean!" he shouted. "What's wrong, what's hurt, let me help!"

"Sonofabitch!" was all Dean said.

Sam puzzled, frantically looked his brother up and down to find out what was causing him the pain. His brother's expletive didn't really help identify the source of Dean's pain, but Sam would have to be an idiot to not notice Dean's leg sticking out at an awkward angle. Based on the snap he had heard earlier, he assumed that something was broken, most likely at the knee level or lower.

Dean grabbled his hands into fists, clutching at anything he could find, but grasping only empty air. A layer of sweat had already coagulated on his forehead and back. He gritted his teeth and panted, turning his head away from his leg, not daring himself to look at it.

"Dean, Dean, what is it?"

"D-Dislocated knee. Damn thing popped it out."

"Stay here, I'm gonna call Dad!" said Sam, thanking his lucky stars that he had brought his cell phone.

"No, Sam!" Dean shouted. "You can't! He'll kill us!"

"Dean! What else can I do! You need to go to the hospital-"

"No, I don't, Sam! It's just popped out, c'mere, help me pop it back in."

Sam nervously walked to Dean's side, plopping on the ground next to him. He winced in sympathy; his brother's leg looked awful. "Here, we gotta get your jeans off, first."

"No way, Sam."

Before Sam could stop him, Dean pushed himself up on his elbows. Sam heard a popping sound and Dean gave a huge sigh of relief. His face regained a little of the colour it had lost, and Sam relaxed a little bit.

"Did it go back in?" he inquired

"Almost." Dean braced himself to look at his leg, see how bad it really was. He could already feel how badly it was swelled; the seams of his jeans were pressing against it and causing him pure agony. When he looked at his knee, he gasped. He could see the bulge of his knee cap: it was on the left side of his leg and the rest of his leg stuck out at an awkward angle to the right. The sight of it made him feel faint. He saw Sammy staring at him with wide eyes. The kid looked like a deer caught in headlights, he thought. "C'mere," he grunted, urging Sam by a wave of his hand.

Sam leaned in, and Dean curled his hand tightly around the collar of his brother's shirt. He shut his eyes tightly and panted, mentally preparing himself for the pain that would come with standing up.

He pushed off the ground with his other hand and practically jumped up with his good leg. Sam heard another popping noise and Dean sighed in utter relief. His cheeks flushed, and he leaned on Sammy's shoulder. "Motherf-" he hissed. "Went back in," he said, answering Sam's questioning glance. He gingerly touched his kneecap and hissed in pain when he made contact. "Whew," he sighed. "Much better."

Dean let go of Sam's shirt and awkwardly patted Sam on the shoulder, silently apologizing through his gesture. He figured now that his knee was back in place, he could just carry on.

After taking a step, he realized just how wrong he was. He practically collapsed to the ground and cried out. Thankfully, Sam was right there to catch him. "Dean," he said. He yelled at Dean as much as he could through that one word. How stupid Dean was, how upset with him Sam was, how stupid Sam thought this whole situation was.

"What?" Dean angrily shot back.

"What are you gonna do now?"

Dean just shot him a look, "Take me to the Impala."

Dean rested most of his weight on Sam's shoulder and hopped on his good leg to the car. He fumbled for his keys in his pocket, and flicked them to Sam. "You're driving."

"W-What? No! No, Dean! I can't! I don't even know how to drive!"

"Sam, I'm in no fit state to be driving." He gestured to his knee. "Now come on, let's go. I'll teach you how on the way, it's not that bad. Get in."

Dean sat down in the shotgun seat with Sam's help. He took a moment to appreciate how weird it was to be in the passenger side of his car; it wasn't a view he normally saw. And he hoped to never really see it again. He reclined his head against the head rest and waited for Sam to climb in on the driver's side.

He turned to look at Sam and saw that his eyes were even wider.

"Sammy?"

He just received a blank look.

"You gotta put the keys in…"

After a moment's pause, Sam snapped out of it. "Oh, right, right, yeah, of course." He put the key in the ignition.

"…Turn it."

Sam forcefully turned it: "WOAH! Hey! Not that hard! Now let go, let it turn back!"

Sam let go and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "All right, now put the car into drive…the one with the 'D'."

Sam obediently did so.

"Now put your foot on the gas, SLOWLY and gently ease it forward."

Sam, naturally, floored it and the car shot forward.

Dean gasped in pain and surprise.

"Sorry, sorry!" shouted Sam, releasing the gas.

"Gentle, dude! You're killing me!"

Sam eased his foot onto the gas pedal.

"All right, now turn onto the road and SLOWLY accelerate."

Sam did so, thankfully without any accidents. He made it to the highway, and started panicking again.

"Dean I can't do this! They're going too fast!"

"Sam, listen to me! You have to do this, I can't drive! It's the same thing as normal driving but it's just faster, all right? Now drive!" He leaned his head back against the head rest, fighting the urge to give into unconsciousness. It would have been so easy. So easy. But his brother needed him. His Sammy needed him, and no matter what, Dean would help.

Dean coaxed him through the traffic and finally relaxed when they made it back to their current hotel, all in one piece.

"Where the hell have you been?" John Winchester shouted. It turned out he had come home early from his hunting trip. Whoops. After he didn't see Dean immediately get out of the car, he started worrying. Sam ran around the front of the car and opened the door for Dean, helping him out.

Dean's leg throbbed and he hissed. John helped him inside and laid him down on the bed.

"What happened? Dammit, Dean, what did you do?"

"Hot damn, Dad! You got pie!" Dean made grabbing motions.

John, surprised, turned around. He had, in fact, brought home a pie for his son. But that was the least of his worries right now. John handed the pie and a plastic fork to Dean, who immediately started devouring it. John guessed his son couldn't have been too badly injured if he had such an appetite.

"I've gotta go to the bathroom, all right? I expect you all back in one piece when I return."

By the time John came back, both of his sons were asleep, lying on each others' shoulders. John's protective side wanted to know what had happened to his sons and why they had disobeyed him, but they just looked so damn peaceful that he couldn't be bothered to wake them up. He figured he could just hear all about it tomorrow morning.

That looked like it would be the last pie Dean would be receiving for a while. He was going to be in some serious trouble when he woke up…

The end! Sorry for the rushed ending, I really had no idea how to end it. Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading