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Chapter Two

Sam tried to not hurt his brother as he'd wrapped his hands and got him in the car. They drove to the hospital while trying to come up with a suitable excuse for the injuries.

They went with the truth instead.

"I was burning wood in the garden and unfortunately the wood burned me back"

Well, almost the truth.

The burns thankfully hadn't been as bad as Sam had thought. He'd had to wait in reception for his brother though. He'd waited for a full hour and was beginning to get impatient when out walked Dean. Both hands heavily covered in gauze, escorted by the Doctor.

Dean hadn't looked happy. In fact he'd looked downright miserable.

"Hey Doc, what's the verdict?"

"Your brother Is going to be fine"

Dean hmphed in the background.

"You will however need to take care of the burns so I'd like to go through a few things with you if that's alright?"

"No problem Doc"

Dean watched as Sam, little Sammy, talked to the mean son of a bitch Doctor. What did he know? Really? So what if he'd been to medical school. Bet he was a trained witch Doctor and nothing more. Don't use your hands. What hell kind of advice is that. The best one though, the absolute doosey dose of advice? Don't play with fire. What was he, like, five? Jesus if the Doc only knew the things he did play with he'd know to have a bit more respect. Sam was nodding his head knowingly and listening intently. Oh little brother was going to love this. Little brother was going to revel in this. Little brother was going to make big brother's life a living hell.

Dean stared at his bandaged hands. Shit. It did hurt though so he was glad the Doc had prescribed some heavy duty pain killers. This so wasn't fair. This was supposed to be a simple salt and burn. Why the hell had it gone so wrong? And when the hell did spirits learn how to throw fire? Next time Sam was doing the burning. Dean smiled as he realised he'd said that line before. Oh well, that was his job. Plus, if the spirits could fight back like that then there was no way in hell he was letting his little brother stand in the line of fire. Literally.

Sam had driven Dean back from the hospital once they had collected his prescription. Pain Killers.

Gauze.

Saline Solution.

Bandages.

Antibiotics.

And one very pissed off brother.

Ok, Dean hated to be mothered, especially by Sam so he knew he was going to have to play this carefully. Don't make him push you away. Make him let you help. But how?

"You alright man?"

"Sammy?"

"Yeah Dean?"

"Ask me again and I'm going to smack you"

Ok so that wouldn't be the way to get Dean to let him help.

Dean laid himself down on the bed and breathed out a huge sigh of relief. Motel rooms might be strange places to most people, but to him, they were home, and right now that's the only place he wanted to be. His hands were throbbing painfully with each beat of his heart. He wanted comforting, he wanted someone to tell him it would be ok and that it would all be better in the morning. God he missed his mother.

Dean watched as Sam put the supplies down on the table. He was doing his best to keep out of Dean's way. Which only helped Dean to feel even more of an ass than he already did. Why couldn't he just let Sam help? He carefully wiggled his fingers, the only part of his hands to escape the roasting. They were a little red but nothing worse than a sunburn. His hands though, well, when the Doc had peeled some of the skin off he'd almost cried aloud. He'd been assured there would be no scaring. God he hoped so. He liked his hands and he'd been told by numerous woman that they were very sexy. He wiggled his fingers some more. Don't want to lose the movement. His palms were so sore. They felt like he'd grazed them down the rough bark of a tree and then put them through a meat grinder. The backs of his hands were singed, much like his fingers. Nothing more than a bad sunburn.

He hoped Dave was burning right now, burning in his grave, unable to roll away from the flames as they crawled up his body and ran their fiery fingers through his hair.

Sam organised the supplies on the table. Painkillers, antibiotics, gauze, bandages, bottle of saline solution, M&M's.

All they'd need for a week. Sam frowned, maybe he'd need to get a few more supplies. Like food.

He glanced at Dean, his brother was studying his hands with a frown. Sam noted the light sheen of sweat across his features and reached for the bottle of pain killers. Popping two pills into his hand he filled a plastic cup with water and sat on the edge of Dean's bed.

"Here"

Dean looked at the pills and willed his fingers to work properly. After a couple of go's he managed to get the little white pills between his finger tips and popped them into his mouth. He gasped as he gripped the cup, almost dropping it all over himself.

"I got it bro, here"

Sam carefully raised the cup to Dean's lips and helped him take a few sips.

"I hate this Sam"

"I know, but you can't use your hands for everything so you're going to have to let me help"

"Hate this" Dean glared at his hands and mentally reprimanded them with every bad word he could think of. He smiled to himself as he thought of some new words.

"Seriously Dean. You are gonna have to let me help, and not bitch and complain about it"

"I don't bitch and complain"

Sam raised his eyebrows and smiled sweetly at his brother.

"Yes. You. Do."

"Yeah, well. Put yourself in my position"

"If it was me, I'd let you help. I'd accept the help graciously and I'd be thankful"

Dean mouthed the words back to his brother with an expression that wouldn't have looked out of place on a petulant five year old. This sucked. Really , really sucked.

He pursed his lips and tried for his best I'm-the-big-brother-and-my-word-is-law look but knew he failed when Sam smiled at him again. This was great, just great. Here he was, the big, kick ass take care of business older brother, having to be helped to take a freakin drink of goddamn water.

And now he needed to pee.

Great.

Well, that was one thing he was NOT going to have help with.

Dean sat up slowly and swung his legs from the bed. He applauded Sam for not trying to help him stand. Little brother was learning. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door. He left the latch off, hoping Sam wouldn't feel the need to peek. Dean stared at his reflection in the mirror for a few seconds, ignoring the tired look and glassy eyes he was still a damn fine handsome man. He looked down at his zip. Flexing his fingers he gripped the small metal of the zip and cart wheeled inside as he managed to pull the fly open. See Sam. Don't need you for everything. The button however was another matter. By the time Dean had taken care of his bladder his hands were on fire and his body was covered in sweat.

But he'd done it without any help.

Sam kept glancing up at the bathroom door. He could hear movement from behind the wooden door so left his brother to his own devices. He'd call if he needed help.

Wouldn't he?

Sam hated to see Dean like this but the need to take care of his brother was a welcome distraction from the turmoil he was feeling within. Jess, dad. So many things to think about. So many things to twist his emotions and his thoughts in circles until he didn't know if he was coming, going, spinning or running.

Dean.

Dean was his constant. The one thing in his life he could rely on. Even if he was a pain in the ass.

Sam tried to not look him over as he walked from the bathroom. Dean flashed him a smile and Sam couldn't help but smile back. Guess that was one thing he didn't have to help Dean with. Which was a relief. Sam was prepared to help Dean with anything but the thought of having to help little Dean evacuate the tidal waters just didn't appeal. Nope, that was one bridge he was very ,very thankful they didn't have to cross.

Dean spent the day watching daytime TV while Sam visited Karen and Rob to assure them that everything was fine, all was back to normal now and they could rest easy. As a thank you Karen had made spaghetti for the boys. She wished Dean a speedy recovery and sent Sam on his way with enough pasta to feed a family of ten.

Sam came back to find Dean fighting with the bag of M&M's. Seemed the battle had been raging for some time now and the yellow chocolate was winning hands down. Sam ducked as the bag came flying his way, smacking against the wall and falling to the floor in a dramatic heap.

"You need some help there brother?"

"Bite me"

Smiling Sam put the Tupperware container down on the table and pulled two plates from the shelf above the sink. As he washed them he waited, waited to hear his brother's curiosity get the better of him. As if on cue he heard Dean get up off of the bed and sit at the table.

"What's this?"

"Dinner"

"Dinner? From who?"

"Karen made it for us, as a thank you for all our help"

"Why don't people ever think of just giving us envelopes of cash?"

"Dean she made us dinner, that's enough"

"Well, it's not as nice as an envelope of cash"

Sam ignored the elder sibling and poured some of the still warm spaghetti onto the plates. He watched as Dean attempted to pick up and hold the fork. It was almost comical. He managed to pick up the utensil only to have it fall from his grasp when he tried to manoeuvre the metal around so that he could scoop up the spaghetti. After three tries Dean had had enough.

"Oh come on!"

"Easy brother. Let me"

"No Sam, I got it"

Dean attempted the same with the spoon, only to accomplish pretty much nothing. His stomach growled expectantly. He sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. Completely defeated.

"Dean?"

He brought his eyes up to meet his brothers concerned gaze. Ok Dean, suck it up. Little brother wants to help and you do need his help, so be a man and let him help. Yet every fibre of his being was screaming for independence, every muscle complaining that it didn't need assistant. Winchesters weren't fed. They fed themselves. Heck, he'd fed Sammy as a baby and made sure he'd had all his meals growing up. It wasn't supposed to be this way around. It wasn't supposed to be the younger one feeding the older one. When the hell did this get so messed up? Oh, yeah, that's right, when that fugly , evil, bastard decided to play unfair and throw fire.

Sam watched as thoughts seem to race behind his brother's eyes. What was he thinking? What was going on? Sam didn't want to have to demand for his brother to let him help but he could feel it coming to that, until Dean nodded slowly. Sam raised his eyebrows and Dean nodded again. His stomach growled in agreement.

Sam carefully cut up the spaghetti into tiny pieces and then forked small amounts into his brother's mouth. The first forkful had to endure the Winchester glare from Dean. The second was accepted with a sigh, the third with enthusiasm.

"This is good" Dean said around a mouthful of food.

"Yeah? That's good cos Karen made us enough for the next couple of days"

"I hate you having to do this you know"

"I know Dean. But unless you want to starve it's just the way it's got to be for now."

"Still hate this"

"Should have ducked the flames then"

Had the food not been so damned tasty Dean would have spat at his brother. Instead he settled for kicking his ankle.

TBC

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