Last chapter edited!!!! Please go back and read again if you only read it when I first posted this, I've changed some things to match the rest of the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its themes or characters.

Sam walked out of the bathroom not a minute later, in dark wash jeans and a light t-shirt and started grinning almost instant after a brief moment of shock.

At the sight of Sam's sloppy grin, Dean sent an instant death glare. Adam wrapped, half asleep in his brother's arms didn't even look up from his comfortable position to acknowledge Sam's entrance.

"Not a word." The words were said with deadliness that was meant to keep Sam quiet and it usually did unless the situation was too tempting.

Sam had been starting to feel like his older brother would never fully accept this new addition to their family. He'd completely refused to do anything with the kid that might qualify as a bonding experience. But leave it to Dean, as soon as you start to doubt him, he'll surprise you.

He shrugged his shoulders and turned to his duffle to search for socks, his face settling to an amused smile.

Dean sighed and began the process of extricating himself from his little brother's stubborn limbs; he really didn't want to be the subject of Sam's knowing glances. He was met with a groan of what Dean assumed to be protest but didn't sound quite right, making Dean pause before finally rolling out of bed and turning to look at the lump of blankets that was his brother with a frown. Something wasn't right.

"Dean." Came a suddenly sharp tone from the other end of the room.

Dean's head snapped up to look at his other brother, but Sam wasn't looking at him. Not directly anyways, Dean looked down at himself to see what his brother was staring at that would make him get that look on his face. Dean didn't like that look.

The blood drain from his face when he saw the arm which had been the one wrapped around his little brother was covered in red, sticky liquid.

"Sonuvabitch."

In a second, Dean had all but pounced back onto the bed with Sam directly on his heels, groping at the blankets covering their brother.

Needless to say, Adam was surprised.

"What the f-" Adam started to say as he failed to pull his blankets back, but was promptly cut off as a pair of hands grabbed a hold of the color of his t-shirt and he was pulled (not as gently as was probably intended) into a sitting position. Adam gasped as the movement sent a wave of pain up his ribs and lower back.

He was being pulled in two different directions as two pairs of hands continued to panic across his torso and after a moment of searching both paused long enough for Adam to open his eyes and look up at both his brothers' faces through his lashes. They were looking right back at him with confusion, concern and… dare he say they looked afraid? But that couldn't be right. His brothers weren't afraid of anything. Nothing could scare them, Zombies, ghosts and werewolves combined.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other briefly before Dean curled his fingers into the fabric of Adam's shirt again and pulling him further forward so his brother's face was resting against his solid shoulder; going about it in much more gentle manner than the first time.

Adam could feel his brothers lean over him to get a look at his back. The action was quickly followed by a few choice curse words from both the bodies that were hovering over him, making Adam tense.

Dean could kick himself for being to lazy to order a check up on everyone when they got back to the room last night. How could he be that stupid? But it's not like it was completely his fault, after all, the stupid kid hadn't said a word. Would it have killed him to just say, 'Hey guys, could you wake up enough to stitch up my mangled back?', or it didn't even need to be that much. He could have just mumbled a 'Man, my back hurts.' And either one of them would have been on it in a second.

Dean clenched his jaw, and glared at the wounds on his baby brother's back with a ferocity which should have them mending all on their own.

"Sam-"

"I'm on it." And his non-mangled brother was out the door to retrieve their first-aid kit from the trunk of the impala in a blink.

With a tired sigh, Dean pulled back from his brother, to be met with unsure green eyes staring up at him. Dean only gave them a glare before shaking his head slightly and getting to his feet.

"On your stomach." The oldest Winchester order.

Adam paused for only half a second as a smart remark came to mind before doing as he was told, not wanting to mess with the dangerous look in Dean's eyes. He also briefly debated asking what was the matter but didn't think that would earn him any brownie points with his brother.

"A little bruised up." Dean muttered under his breath, shaking his head while he mocked Adam's words from earlier, "A little bruised up, my ass." Then rethought his words.

Adam snorted and Dean glared at the back of his head as he hovered over his brother, ready to offer assistance as Adam turned onto his front. His eyes then trailed down to the red dyed, tattered piece of fabric that hid his brother's wounds. He then cringed when he thought of how much it was gonna hurt the kid to try and get that t-shirt off. The dried blood was gonna stick to his back like glue.

Adam turned his head to the side to try and get a look at his brother when Dean remained silent for slightly too long silent.

"What?"

Dean just shook his head, "I am so not letting you pull the innocent card. You cannot tell me something that bleeds that much doesn't hurt."

Adam was saved from having to answer as Sam lumbered back in with long strides, first-aid kit in hand. Dean was satisfied to note that Adam had the sense to duck his head back towards the headboard as to avoid the hard look in the new arrival's eye.

"I got this, Dean." Sam told him off as Dean reached for the medical box, and sat on the opposite side of the bed.

Pulling out a pair of medical scissors, Sam began the work of cutting the bloodstained shirt off his brother and doing his best to be gentle when pulling the fabric from his back, but little gasps still escaped. At least said gasps were able to camouflage the two oldest Winchester's loss of breath at the damage.

Pieces of glass, still embedded in the kid's back explained why the wounds had yet to stop bleeding, large colorful splotches of blue, green and yellow were beginning to form over swollen ribs and the idiot was still muttering how he was fine.

"Shut up, Adam. That's pretty damn far from fine." Dean snapped, annoyed by his brother's attempts to pacify their worries. Reaching over his brother, Dean pulled out a bottle of morphine from the aid kit, while Sam was busy trying to distinguish shirt from skin.

Heading to the bathroom, Dean filled a paper cup with water before pouring two pills into his hand and walking back across the room to the occupied bed. Dean gestured for Adam to take the pills concealed in his hand and held the cup of water in front of his face. He could only see the corner of a frown on his brother's face since it was turned to the wall but he held out a hand for Dean to drop the pills into.

"What's this?" Dean flinched slightly at the pained strain in his little brother's voice. Sam had finally successfully removed the stubborn shirt from the baby of the family and was sitting back waiting for Adam to take the morphine before he'd start on the painful task of removing the glass.

"Happy pills. Take them."

"You know, I'm really not one of those druggie kids who take prescription drugs in-"

"Adam." Dean said shortly, if not a little loudly. He was so not in the mood to deal with his brother's ridiculously timed, dry humor.

Adam conceded and Dean was able to relax slightly as he sat on the bed next to him.

After about a minute of just sitting there, Adam finally inquired, "Wudjoo guys jus' sittin' there fer."

The brothers were happy to note the slur in his voice: morphine working it's magic.

"Waiting for you to pass out." Sam replied calmly, like it was the most obvious thing.

"Oh…"

And a moment later, Adam was breathing slowly and deeply. Asleep.

Dean plucked the tweezers out of the aid kit before his brother could reach them, causing Sam to frown at him but didn't complain, simply pulling out a needle and thread and began sterilizing.

"Stupid of us not to check him out last night. That thing was throwing him around pretty good." Sam muttered as he set out a Petri dish for the glass Dean would be extricating and pulled one out for himself as well, to use for sterilizing.

Dean snorted as he dunked his tweezers in some alcohol, "Stupid of him for not mentioning it. That shouldn't even be something we have to tell him to do."

Steadying his hand, Dean pulled out a well wedged piece of glass followed by a gush a blood causing Dean to call out for a towel, which was quickly supplied by a hurried Sam, who watched, feeling rather useless as Dean applied pressure to the badly placed wound in their little brother's back.

He really should have expected this from Dean. His brother may not be particularly affectionate on a day to day basis but when his family was hurting he was on top of it in a second and offered anything said family might need. And judging by the little scene Sam had walked in on this morning, maybe he even did that subconsciously; when he didn't even know they were hurt. Maybe it was kind of like a sixth sense for Dean, knowing when his brothers were feeling down. Sam couldn't even begin to count the number of times his brother had been there to make him feel better. Even for the simplest things, and it was always in a uniquely 'Dean' way.

"Why do you think that is, by the way?" Sam asked with a frown.

"What?" Dean asked distractedly as he lifted the towel a little to check and see if the bleeding had stopped and removing it when it had.

"Why didn't he tell us. Why did we have to find out by finding blood on your hands." Sam said loudly, clearly confused and frustrated.

Hearing his brother's tone, Dean looked up to meet Sam's eyes. He was just as confused as he was.

"I dunno, Sammy."