The Road So Far:

Family doesn't end with blood. And blood doesn't mean family.

CHAPTER 10

Ellen filled Dean in on who she believed the kid was.

Bobby got two more tumblers.

John had once mentioned a huntress named Jody Mills – a former cop before she joined the hunt. But he had never mentioned a kid. She's been more of a lonely wolf. Never uniting with another hunter for a job.

That might was what got her killed in the end.

SPN

Sam was awake, when Dean entered the room with some chickenbrooth in a rather big bowl.

Sam was lying on his back, eyes half open and misty from the medication he was on.

"Hey.", he sounded weak, his voice rough and torn and calm.

Dean gave him a glamorous smile when their looks met over the distance. "You're awake."

Sam's face was ashen. Bruises standing out purple and dark. His eye still swollen shut. , the other one bloodshot and watery.

"Gotcha something to eat." He put the bowl on the nightstand beside Sam, then gathered pillows from an armchair from the other side of the room.

"Gonna get some food into you." Dean's voice was so soft, caring. He swallowed down the growing anger about Sam's condition. This wasn't something to talk about right now.

"You up for sitting, kiddo?"

Sam threw him his most remarkable bitch-face "No kid, dude."

"

Dean swallowed a chuckle. Lines of sorrow digging deep in his face. "Yeah well. - You're younger than me. So yeah. I'm gonna call you kiddo." He couldn't help himself but tease – just a little. "Sammy." He added, giving him a cocky grin. If Sam like kiddo, he'd probably love Sammy even more.

Dean didn't believe the kid's face could get any bitchier.

"I'm no chubby seven year old either.", Sam rasped, his voice fading fast.

"You'll get used to it.", Dean stated, stepping up beside the bed, throwing two pillows on the blanket. "And up we go." He didn't asked for permission

Dean pulled the blankets back, reached under Sam's armpits and lifted him slightly from the mattress to drag him up towards the headboard.

Sam couldn't suppress a wince. It hurt. Like a damn freaking bitch.

Dean held him with one arm, so he could stash the pillows in between Sam's back and the headboard. When he did so, he felt Sam's head coming to a rest against his shoulder, warm breath tickling the delicate hair of his neck.

Dean exhaled softly. If it wasn't for the circumstances, he would have liked that. He would've liked that a lot. So he kept on holding him like this for a couple of seconds longer than it was absolutely necessary, before he eased him into the pillows.

It felt like Sam was breathing him in, taking a deep wheezing breath, holding it. Not wanting to let go. Wanting to get as much from Dean into his system as possible. Until it'd hurt too much.

When Dean pulled back and sat down at the edge of the bed, Sam's eyes followed him weary. There were no signs of fear, nor angst.

Like this was a normal situation on a normal day with normal people in a normal place.

But it was not.

He took the bowl with luke warm soup, stirring the spoon in it.

Sam cocked his good eyebrow, observing the hunter. Watching him stirring the soup.

"You're so not gonna spoon-feed me.", his fading voice coming out weak.

Dean looked up. He wasn't?

Sam's expression was dead serious.

Dean gazed at the casted arm, the other one hooked on an IV. Oh hell yes. He so was going to spoon-feed Sam, he just didn't know it yet.

"Fine." It wasn't on him, to tell Sam what he was capable of doing. He'd have to see for himself.

Sam glanced at the bowl of soup. He was freaking hungry. He always was.

"There we go." Dean let go of the spoon and held the bowl in Sam's lap.

Sam hesitated for a moment as it seemed, thinking things over.

Dean waited. Patiently.

Sam's trembling hand reached out for the spoon, a shaky breath falling from his lips. Carefully, his fingers wrapped around the spoon, metal clanking against the ceramic as the trembling went on.

He scooped up some soup. Lost most of it on the way to his mouth, but managed to sip in that little that was left.

He did it again.

Dean watching him carefully.

Sam's trembling increased. Obviously starting to loose control over the spoon.

It clattered into the bowl, as it slid from Sam's fingers. Small drops of chicken-soup spurting onto the blanked.

Sam let himself sink into the pillows, his hand coming down beside of him.

Dean wouldn't say a word. He just took the spoon, and would spoon-feed Sam.

Sam let him.

Dean gave the man some time to recover after they were done with the soup. They just sat there in silence, rays of sun dancing in Dean's emerald-green eyes.

Thanks." Sam tore his look away from the hunter. "Thanks for coming." He meant it.

"You shouldn't talk. Ain't good for your vocal cords." Dean didn't want to go all red over his face. But he did. "Besides … You got the guy good. Found his body. Burnt the place down."

Dean cleared his throat staring at the empty bowl. He paused, gathering words, sorting them out in his mind.

Then he looked over at Sam, his hand covering the man's swollen side of the face, forcing him gently to look him in the eyes. "I don't care why you think you deserve this. But you'll quit." He was calm and soft, feeling the heat from Sam's bruised cheek radiating into his cool hand. "Either that, or you'll have to leave the county and never come back. I'm not going to let you do this to you. - Ever again. Not under my watch." Dean didn't know how he would know, that Sam wasn't going to leave.

"I won't." For the first time since they met, it seemed as if Sam would let Dean in. Would be just Sam, not a hooker telling him what he wanted to hear. It even felt as if Sam was inviting him, leaving the door to his very soul ajar for him.

This is not the End ….

Author's note:

No, it's not the end.

This is practically where I'll go from with sequels and one-shots I've already posted the Intro to it.

This is, what upcoming Stories in the Bruised Bloody Broken Universe are going to be based on.

Let's say, this one's the pilot.