sorry guys this is still the same chapter, but it got accidentally removed so i just reposted it!!


A/N: hey guys! sorry this took so long, i just moved back up to school and into a house off campus, and let me just tell you, it takes alot out of you! there is so much to do! but here it is, chapter 3. i have a bunch of this written, and didn't really have a good spot to stop for chapters and things, so if the ending of this chapter seems a little awkward, then thats why. thanks for being patient, and i hope that i am able to get chapter 4 up in less time than i did this one. hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: i don't own the Winchester boys, which is a travesty in itself, but hey i can own a small piece of them when season one comes out on DVD sept 5!

Brothers in Arms

Chapter 3

A half hour later he reached his destination. Kicking down the back door, Sam hurried into the house, thankful that he was out of the stinging snow and wind, at least for a little while.

His first order of business was a first aid kit, and took off in search of the bathroom. After checking it to make sure that it had everything that he would need, he moved onto the bedroom. Checking the closet and finding no clothes, he stripped the bed of its sheets and blankets and folded them, and then headed back down to the kitchen. He located a large garbage bag and placed his findings in it. That's when he noticed the smell. He opened the refrigerator and quickly slammed it shut again. These people sure left in a hurry, so fast in fact that they didn't have time to empty out the fridge. And boy did it reek! But the fact that there was food in the fridge gave Sam an idea, and he started pulling open cabinets and drawers. He came up with an unopened jar of peanut butter, 2 boxes of crackers, some pretzels, and eight-pack of bottled water, and several cans of tuna. Not the greatest combo, but at least they wouldn't be hungry. Okay, at least they wouldn't starve.

To top it all off, he found two flash lights stored under the sink, and he threw those into his bag of tricks as well. After tying off the bag he braced himself and then plunged back into the waiting iciness. He had been gone a long time, and he didn't want the fire to burn out before he got back.

If anything, the trek back to the barn seemed to be even worse than the trek to the house. The wind buffeted his body from every direction, and more than once he had to stop and get his bearings, afraid that he would loose his way. By the time he arrived back at the barn, Sam was pretty soaked through, and was again loosing the feeling in his limbs. Pushing the door open passed the snow drift that had accumulated during his absence, he noticed that the fire had burned down to little more than embers, but Dean had indeed followed orders.

"I think that this is the first time you've ever actually listened to me when I order you around."

He expected a snide comment, but when he didn't receive even a grunt in return, he hurriedly put down his bag of goods and was at his brothers' side. That was when he noticed that Dean's face was screwed up in pain.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

"I tried to reach over and grab some more wood for the fire," he ground out, "and my chest decided that that was definitely a bad plan."

"Shit Dean. Alright don't move. Let me handle things, alright?" Without waiting for an answer, Sam moved over to the bag, and dug out the med kit, the water, and a flashlight. Shaking out some aspirin he handed then to Dean, and held the water for him while he washed them down.

"Sorry, but this is all we've got until we get back to the car. I'm gonna get this fire started again and then we'll take care of that chest of yours."

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine."

When Sam just glared at him, he relented. "Or you could fix them up. Whatever."

Sam busied himself with getting the fire going. The last thing that he needed to worry about right now was getting hypothermia. Once the fire was crackling nicely, he turned once more to Dean's chest. Most of the bleeding had stopped, but Dean's little stunt with the firewood had opened up a couple, and Sam decided that only a couple gashes needed to be stitched. Setting his supplies down, he ripped off some of the bedding and wadded it up, handing it wordlessly to Dean. Dean, apparently, didn't get the hint.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

Sam just looked at him and held up the bottle of rubbing alcohol. "Bite down on that. This is going to hurt like a son of a bitch."

Dean took and the fabric and bit down on it. Sam was right; this was going to hurt like a bitch. Sam looked at his brother, watching for the sign that he was ready. Dean nodded, and Sam sent and apology to his brother with his eyes.

Dean's chest felt like it was on fire. He was clenching his fists so hard that he felt blood sliding down his palms where his fingernails had dug into his skin. He could feel Sam pushing against his upper chest, keeping him down. Through his own blurred vision, he could see Sam biting his lower lip, and loosing the battle to keep his tears at bay. God, Dean hated being the cause of those tears. But then a wave of fire passes over his chest, and he screamed around the gag, and he could seem how much his pain was hurting his brother. And then he couldn't think anymore, because this pain had finally pulled him down into the darkness.

God, Sam hated this. His brother was in so much pain, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Hell, he was the one inflicting it. He had to put a hand on Dean's chest to stop him from rearing up. He had to hold him down so hard, he probably left bruises. He could taste blood in his mouth where he had apparently but his lip too hard, and could do nothing about the tears he felt sliding down his face.

God Dean, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And then all of Dean's struggles ceased as he fell unconscious once more. Sam didn't know whether to be alarmed or grateful. Dean wouldn't be in pain anymore, but with the concussion that Sam was pretty sure Dean had, more time spent unconscious couldn't really be a good thing, could it? Sam shook his head. He was going to take advantage of this while he could. He liberally poured more of the alcohol on dean's chest, and then began to sew up the worst of the cuts. He smeared antibiotic cream on them all when he was done, and began ripping up the sheets to use as bandages when he felt dean stirring beside him.

"Hey, you back with me?" As much as he didn't want it to, his voice was wavering with concern.

"Shit. Remind me to never let you play nursemaid ever again. That hurt like a son of a bitch."

Sam looked away quickly, not wanting Dean to see the tears spring to his eyes. "It's not like I was trying to hurt you, you know. I had to do it, Dean. I had to."

Dean knew his brother had taken his words a little bit too much to heart, and now he was feeling like a jack-ass for hurting his brother yet again. "I know Sammy. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just that I'm tired and I'm cold and I'm in pain right now and there is nothing more I would like to do than lounge on a comfortable bed with a pizza and a six pack. But we're out here, in an abandoned barn, in the middle of a blizzard, with some crazy ass creature still on the loose that can probably smell my blood from 10 miles away. So I'm just a little bit cranky right now.

Sam couldn't hide his smirk. "Jeez, Dean, is that all? You make it sound like we're in some kind of trouble or something."

Dean stared open-mouthed at Sam for a minute, and then let out a soft chuckle, only wincing a little when it pulled at his fresh stitches. "Bitch"

"Jerk." But Dean's wince had brought reality back to Sam, and he quickly went about finishing his task of ripping up the sheets. He turned to Dean, and again sent him an apologetic look. "This is going to hurt a little."

"Yeah yeah. Just get it over with."

alright so there it is, chapter 3. loved it? hated it? still on the fence? well let me know, i love hearing what you guys think...