Whoo! Another chapter down :D I'm really trying to keep these pretty consistant but if I fall behind I'm very sorry!! Anyway, on with the fluff!!

The harsh florescent lighting of the motel did nothing to camouflage Sam's bruises, if anything it simply made them stand out more. The pale skin beneath his right eye was beginning to turn a sickly purple color and the curve of his jaw was mottled with varying shades of reds and maroons. The dull yellow glow from the light bulbs made everything appear darker, more livid, and it pissed Dean off even more.

He closed the door behind them as the entered, fastening both locks and glaring back out the window unconsciously. He was about half a step away from running outside and beating the living crap out of the first person he saw but he knew it wouldn't help in the least and he needed to tend to Sam before anything else could be done. Keeping an arm wrapped across Sam's shoulders, Dean carefully steered him into the kitchen and nodded to the counter top. "Up." He said, pushing a renegade grocery bag off the counter. The bathroom was much too small for both of them to fit and the kitchen counter had more space anyway.

Sam obeyed silently and hopped onto the counter, gritting his teeth as the motion jarred his rib but managing to hold the expression in. He was relatively certain that there wasn't any kind of puncture or internal bleeding but it hurt like hell to take a deep breath and moving too quickly was definitely something to be avoided for the next few days.

Dean snatched the battered first aid kit their dad always kept with them and set it on the counter top, opening it and sifting through the wraps and bandages inside. "So do you know who it was?" He had to fight to keep his voice calm and even, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side.

Sam nodded a little. "Yeah, it was some guy from my English class. Travis something…Parker? Palmer?"

The older boy nodded absently, pouring some peroxide onto a cotton ball and turning back toward his little brother. "So what happened? Did you do something to him or did he just decide he didn't like you?"

"Something like that." Sam winced as the split skin of his lip began to sting as the peroxide was placed over it. "We had a little disagreement in class earlier today but I didn't think anything of it until this afternoon when they started following me."

Dean stiffened momentarily. "They were following you?"

"Yeah, I saw them."

Dean sighed softly and shook his head. "Okay, so then what? They confronted you and things turned ugly?"

"Yeah." Another wince as the cotton ball brushed over a particularly sore scrape along his jaw and a bandage was pressed over it. "They waited until I got to the park across the street so no one would see."

"Dammit Sam!" Dean sighed loudly in exasperation. "You let them follow you that far?! Did you even try to fight back at all?"

This time, Sam's anger managed to get the better of him and his face flushed in embarrassment and irritation. "Of course I tried to fight back, Dean." He snapped hotly, looking away. "But you know its kind of hard when you're outnumbered five to one."

A tense silence fell between the two for a minute, each still worked up from their last outburst. Finally, Dean let out a slow breath and shook his head. "Why didn't you call me?"

Sam kept his face down, eye focused on his jeans. Tears were prickling hotly behind his eyes but he wasn't about to let them fall. "They took my phone." He answered quietly, his voice filtering through a clenched jaw. The pressure hurt but it kept his mind off of the pain in his side and the feeling of weakness that begun to swell inside. He was disappointed in himself, he should have been able to handle himself better than that but was unable to. Their father had been training them to be soldiers ever since Sam could remember and to think he was taken down by something not supernatural or unnaturally strong, but something very much human was incredibly frustrating. One tear managed to fall without his permission and he scrubbed at his face angrily with the back of his hand. A strong hand caught his wrist and held it gently.

"Sammy." The boy in question looked up at his older brother. "Look man, I'm sorry I snapped at you." Dean said, brushing another unshed tear away from his brother's face with his thumb gently. "I know you fought back, cause you're a Winchester and that's what we do. You just happened to end up on the losing side this time around." He offered Sam a teasing smile and ruffled his hair. "But next time you better make sure to either call me or pick a more evenly matched fight."

Sam shrugged out of his hand, smiling weakly. "Thanks, man."

Dean smiled and began to reassemble the first aid kit, tossing it back onto the worn couch in the bedroom. Nothing in there was breakable which was probably a good thing since it had been dropped, kicked, and run over on more than one occasion. He stepped into the bedroom and grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sleep pants from Sam's bag and tossed them to him. "Now change clothes before you catch a cold. Plus, dad would go ape shit if he came home and saw you with blood on you shirt."

Sam nodded and stayed in the kitchen, not really wanting to fight his way around the bathroom at the moment. The sink protruded much farther than normal from the wall and making your way around it and the door at the same time usually required a bit more coordination than he felt he really possessed at the moment. He hadn't realized how wet he'd gotten outside until his clothes began to stick to his slender form and he started to shiver. He stripped himself of the damp blue jeans and pulled the dry sleep pants on, instantly feeling warmer than he had been earlier. The shirt was going to be a problem though…

Lifting his arms even a little bit hurt like hell and knowing he'd have to pull the shirt over his head was something he had been dreading for several minutes now. Still, he sure as hell wasn't going to ask for help with such a simple task and was determined to grit his teeth and bare it. That was until the injured bone decided to shift slightly causing him to halt and gasp.

Dean heard the sharp intake of breath behind him and turned, concern crossing his face at the sight of his younger brother slightly hunched and squeezing his eyes shut in pain. "Sammy?" He walked back into the kitchen, placing a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder and kneeling so he was eye level with him. "You okay?"

"I'm awesome…" Came to strained reply, Sam's eyes still squeezed shut and his breath coming out in shallow gasps.

"Sure you are." Dean noticed the way Sam kept his right arm pressed to his side, almost like a shield, and grabbed his forearm gently. "Let me see it, Sammy."

Sam hesitated a few seconds but finally let his arm fall, straightening slowly and taking a shallow breath. Dean carefully lifted his shirt, cursing softly as his eyes came to rest on the underlying damage. Sam's side was a patchwork of bruises, deep and livid, and skin was swollen. "Jesus Sam, did they beat you with a shovel?!" Dean demanded, his fingertips brushing lightly across the bruises.

Sam winced, sucking in another breath through his teeth. "No, but they had shoes…"

The anger flared again and Dean had to take a few seconds to calm down before he did anything else. After he managed to relax enough to not snap at his brother again, his gently placed both hands on either side of Sam's chest, his fingers wrapping around to his back. "Take a deep breath for me."

Sam obeyed wordlessly, taking a slow, deep breath and holding it for a second. He'd been through this enough times in his life to know what was going on. Without waiting for his brother to say it, he exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, the pain radiating beneath Dean's hands.

Dean remained motionless for a few more seconds, concentrating on the feeling of Sam's breathing beneath his palms. Finally, satisfied that he hadn't punctured a lung or anything equally awful, he stood slowly. "Well, nothing deadly but it'd more than likely broken." He ignored the way Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed the shirt from the counter. "Give me your arm."

"What? Why?"

"You obviously can't take your shirt off by yourself right now so I'm going to help you." Dean explained, draping the clean shirt over one arm and looking at his brother. "Now, give me your arm."

Sam hesitated, shaking his head slowly. "No way."

"What?"

"Dude, if I let you help me get dressed, you're going to use it against me for like a year."

"Sam, how many times have I ever blackmailed you?"

"Four."

Dean stopped for a second, giving Sam an incredulous look. "Name one time."

"Alright," Sam said, crossing his arms loosely over his chest to avoid crushing his rib. "Remember when I was eight and broke my leg and needed help taking a shower?"

"Yeah?"

"You told everyone in the neighborhood."

Dean stopped again. Damn, he didn't think Sam would remember that. He sighed and shook his head. "Sam, look, I'm not going to make fun of you or blackmail you or anything like that. I just want you to change out of that wet shirt before you catch pneumonia on top of everything else."

Sam looked at him for a few seconds, debating on whether or not he should trust what Dean was saying. "Promise?"

Another loud sigh. "Yes, Sam. I promise."

The younger boy hesitated for a minute longer before finally nodding. "Okay." With Dean's help, Sam managed to wiggle out of the damp t-shirt and drop it to the ground. His older brother shoved the dry shirt over his head and carefully pulled his arms through the sleeves.

"There, now was that so terrible?" Dean asked once Sam was sufficiently clean and dressed.

"Awkward."

"Of course it was." He laughed and ruffled Sam's hair again.

Sam smiled a little, the swelling along his jaw making it look more like a grimace than a smile. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean smiled and shrugged a little. "Eh, you're my pain in the ass little brother. It's what I'm supposed to do, right?"

Yay!! More hurt/comfort goodness to come!! It makes me feel all soft and mushy inside, hehe :P