Happy 2010!!! :D Hope you all had a fabulous one!! Here's a little bit of awesome big brother Dean for you ^.-

Dean cursed, planting his shoulder against the door to the motel room and digging into his pocket for the key. Damn this old hotel for having an actual lock and key; it made holding onto a barely conscious little brother and keeping them both upright that much harder. "Almost there Sammy…" He mumbled, digging for the key and managing to wrap his fingers around the cool metal. "Just hang on kiddo…" The younger man didn't answer and Dean didn't really expect him to. The startling amount of blood that covered his side was enough to ensure that fact.

It should have been a simple hunt. There were reports of a large, bear-like creature skulking around in the woods in Louisiana. There was no telling how long it had been there but one thing was for sure, it was causing a huge problem for the locals. While no humans had been hurt, the local livestock had become the main food supply and the creature had recently made a special appearance near a church and a day care. That's when the Winchester's were called on to the case. The town didn't want to sit around and wait for human flesh to suddenly appear on the menu.

The hunt had gone text book for the most part. They had tracked it, wounded it, and managed to corner it before things turned ugly. The creature was easily seven feet tall, an odd mix between a bear and a three-toed sloth, with long, razor-sharp claws that extended from its paws like organic blades. And it was powerful on top of all of that. Dean had gotten too close at one point and was sent flying into a tree, effectively knocking him out for the count.

Sam had gone in for the kill, firing expertly at the chest and head. The creature had flailed wildly at him, sharp claws aiming for soft flesh and muscle. Sam had fired the killing shot but not before the beast caught him along the back and side with its claws, ripping through fabric and flesh alike. When Dean came to, he found the creature dead and his little brother covered in enough blood to qualify him as a crime scene. Sam had tried to staunch the blood flow with his hands but the wound was too big and too deep for that. Dean had pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around the younger man, ignoring the way the blood slicked down the smooth leather and dripped to the leafy ground. Realizing that it was going to take a hell of a lot of explaining and patience that he didn't possess at the moment, Dean U-turned once they made it to the car and headed back to the motel instead of the hospital.

He'd managed to keep Sam at least semi-conscious throughout most of the trip, forcing him to speak and keep his eyes open, fearing that pain and blood loss would cause Sam to go into shock if he faded off. He'd broken nearly every speed limit in the ten miles to their motel and he frankly didn't care; Sam needed help and fast.

Now, shoving the brass key into the rusted lock, Dean was more carrying Sam than helping him walk. He staggered into the room, kicking their bags out of the way, and gently laid the younger man out across the closest bed. He immediately made his way to the bathroom and filled the ice bucket with water and wash cloths. The first aid kit was already on the counter next to the sink, a habit their father got them into at an early age; make sure the first aid kit is visible and easily accessible at all times. Dean snatched it off the counter, tucking it under one arm and grabbing the bucket with the other. He made his way back over to the bed and set everything on the bedside table, straightening it out so everything was easily at hand.

Sam hadn't moved since he'd laid him down, his pulse a weak shudder beneath Dean's fingertips. The older man cursed softly again and peeled away the jacket, catching his breath at the extent of the damage. Three deep gashes stretched from Sam's lower shoulder blade to nearly his hip, the skin shredded and flayed back from impact. Amazingly enough, it seemed that none of the organs had been damaged though there was the dim, pinkish gleam of a rib beneath the carnage. Dean sucked in his breath again, wincing in sympathy at his brother's wounds. There was an awful lot of blood and not that much Sam beneath all of it.

He grabbed one of the wash cloths and began to carefully wash away the fresh and dried blood that marred Sam's skin. It was a slow process, one that made Dean's stomach do uneasy flips as he went on. Sam was his one weakness, his only weakness, and seeing him injured like this did very bad things to his reserve. They'd been injured on hunts before, everything from broken bones to gunshot wounds, but it never made it any easier to see his baby brother like this: broken, pale and bleeding on some crummy motel bed. The sheets and comforter would be ruined by the time this was all said and done but it couldn't be helped; they always made sure to pay a damages deposit to any room they stayed in for this very reason.

Sam winced, his eyes squeezing shut slightly.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, pausing his cleaning. "Can you hear me, buddy?"

Sam winced again, fighting to open his eyes. Slowly, he blinked, focusing on the comforter for a few seconds to get his bearings. "D'n…?" He asked softly, the words broken and frail.

"Yeah, Sammy its me." Dean smiled softly, reaching up to smooth the hair away from his brother's face. "Just lay still, okay? I gotta patch you up…" He had silently hoped that Sam would stay unconscious for that part; it was going to hurt and they both knew it.

"-get it…?" Sam asked quietly.

"Yeah, Sammy. You got it." Dean cleaned away the last of the blood and dropped the crimson-stained rag bag into the bucket. Once all the blood was cleared away, the wounds actually didn't look too bad. "Okay, Sam…I'm going to have to stitch these closed, alright?"

Sam made some kind of non-committal noise and nodded weakly. "'kay…" The amount of sheer trust his brother had in him made Dean's chest clench.

He plucked a package of sterilized sutures from the first aid kit and went to work on the biggest gash, concerned with getting it closed first. Sam winced a few times, his fingers digging into the fabric of the bedspread and his breath coming in short, ragged pants. Dean did his best to sooth him, whispering nonsense over and over in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. Once the first one was closed, it left the two smaller ones on either side, one of them including the wound that exposed Sam's rib. It was a miracle the bones had broken completely but Dean knew it was going to be a tricky one to stitch.

"…you okay…?" Sam asked weakly, glancing up from the comforter to look at his older brother.

Dean was confused for a second, wondering why Sam would be asking him if he was alright when he was the one being quilted back together on the bed. Then he remembered the hit he'd taken in the woods and nodded slowly. "Yeah Sammy…I'm fine."

"You're…bleeding…" Sam commented, noting the blood that covered his bother's shirt.

"S'not mine Sammy…" Dean corrected, squeezing his shoulder gently before starting at the other gash.

"Oh…" Sam grimaced, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. Occasionally, his fists would clench on the bed, fingers tangling in the bedspread. He could faintly hear Dean talking above him, shushing him quietly and whispering words of comfort and encouragement. However, as much as he tried to remain conscious, to listen to his brother's voice, his body had other plans and he slowly faded into nothingness.

Dean noticed Sam's features go law once more and silently thanked God for him going unconscious again. At least now Sam wouldn't be in so much pain. He paused for a second to check his brother's pulse once more, noting that while it still wasn't very strong, it had evened out and was no longer in what he considered the danger zone. He sighed softly in relief and went back work, closing up the wounds carefully and accurately. It was going to leave a bitch of a scar, that was unavoidable, but it could always be worse.

Nearly an hour later, Dean finished with the last stitch and carefully bandaged his brother's side. He managed to lift Sam just enough to place him in the other bed and cover him with the blanket without waking him. The younger man was still dangerously pale but his breathing was slow and even and for now that was all Dean could ask for. He stripped the other bed of the bloodied comforter and sheets and tossed them in a heap against the opposite wall. They were going to have to extend their stay for a few days, there was no way Sam could travel in his condition, but Dean figured that could wait until morning.

He stood slowly, carrying the ice bucket filled with bloody water into the bathroom and dumping it into the tub. It had been a long night and his body cried for sleep but he couldn't allow it right now, not until he made sure Sam made it through the night. Scooting the overstuffed chair away from the door, he placed it next to Sam's bed and settled back into the cushions, content to watch the steady rise and fall of Sam's chest as he slept.

Hope you all liked it!! :D