10. Bruises
Dean grunted as he was thrown into the wall by the werewolf, his head cracking against it painfully. He tried to reorient himself, but the wolf was throwing another punch at him, catching him in the jaw. Dean dropped to the floor, and the werewolf kicked him in the side of the face, blacking out his vision for a couple seconds before it directed its assault to his ribs, driving the wind from him.
Dean growled, scrambling for his gun on the floor. He almost got it, but the wolf dragged him backwards and kicked him hard in the small of his back. Dean yelped. Damn, he hoped his kidneys hadn't taken too much damage from that.
He finally raised a leg and kicked out at the were himself, catching it in the knee and as the beast yelped in pain, Dean flung himself across the floor, snatched up his pistol and rolled onto his back, leveling the sights on the wolf and sending three silver bullets right to the heart.
The werewolf staggered, gasping as it bled out and then slumped, dead, to the floor.
Dean rolled onto his side, groaning as his bruised ribs and back protested.
The door to the cabin slammed open and there was Sam, rushing in with his own gun raised.
"Dean?" he cried.
"What took you so long?" Dean grunted, prodding the inside of his mouth with his tongue and spitting out a gob of blood. Sam was instantly at his side, reaching down to help him to his feet. Dean groaned again in protest.
"Are you hurt?" Sam asked worriedly, looking him over.
Dean reached up to touch a split lip. His face already felt like it was stiffening from swelling. "Just some bruises." He said.
"Let's get you back to the motel," Sam told him and kept a hand on his elbow as he steered Dean out to the Impala.
Dean grumbled about Sam driving, but his eye was already swelling shut, and he didn't know if he had a concussion or not, so it was better for Sam to drive.
Once they got back to the motel, Sam sat Dean down at the table and went to grab ice. He pulled one of the towels out of the bathroom and wrapped the ice in it, making an impromptu ice pack that he put into Dean's hand before helping him guide it to the side of his face. Dean groaned as the cold touched the sore area, but soon it began to numb it.
"Keep that on there for a while. It will help the swelling go down," Sam said gently before he reached for the hem of Dean's shirt.
"Get off me," Dean grunted, slapping his hand away. "I'm fine."
Sam gave him a determined look. "I just want to see how bad it is," he said firmly.
Dean growled, but tolerated Sam's poking and prodding as his fingers touched every freaking one of Dean's ribs, but he seemed satisfied because he eventually pulled away.
"Nothing broken. But it will be sore for a few days," Sam told him sympathetically. "It's definitely black and blue."
"Nothing new," Dean muttered, wincing as he took the ice pack off for a second since it was getting really cold.
"Sorry I didn't get there earlier," Sam said softly, sitting down across from him.
Dean shot him a look then shrugged. "No harm done, it's just a few bruises, Sammy."
"Could have been worse," Sam murmured.
"But it wasn't," Dean said firmly, and raised a foot to nudge Sam's knee. "Now get me a beer, would you?"
Sam gave him a longsuffering look, but there was relief in his eyes too as he shook his head and stood to pull two beers from the mini-bar. Then they sat and drank them together, celebrating a job well done—thankfully without too many injuries.