A/n: Tochi: Ok, I've been updating a lot lately, because I have no life… yeah This quick update was also due to me feeling bad about the whole cliffie thing… and people complaining about it.
Also, it has come to my attention that a few of my reviewers have been upset about the Wincest. If you don't like the Wincest, contact me and I can send you the un-Wincested version, I'm doing it already, so feel free to ask… heck, if you want a more intensified Wincest story tell me that and I'll type it up too! –has no life-
Disclaimer: Linc: Since Flap Jack doesn't want to do this I get to be your Disclaimer person! Woo! –crickets chirp- …. Yeah, We don't own it.
Flap Jack: Yay another moron to mock!
Tochi: I'm not changing out pen name! –grumbles to self about already to long of a name-
Linc: Well –offended noise-
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"Sammy." Dean knelt down in front of his brother, easing the razor off of his skin and taking the blade away.
"Sammy, why are you doing this?" Dean asked, setting the blade down on the floor beside himself, not letting go of Sam's wrist. Even though he was opposed to chick flick moments, this was his baby brother and he was having serious problems.
Sam couldn't look at his brother, he looked down and away, embarrassed by the entire thing.
He could feel Dean's gaze burning into the side of his head, but he couldn't look to meet that gaze, he couldn't speak, he just couldn't.
"Sammy." Dean whispered, twisting his arm just a bit so his forearm was facing up. He ran his fingers down his brother's scars, frowning.
"Can you at least tell me when you started this again… did you ever stop?" Dean questioned, looking up at his brother.
Sam could feel the tears in his eyes. He'd disappointed Dean. He'd done this to his hero. He didn't know that this was how Dean would take it. He always thought he'd get angry and start yelling, he didn't know he would do this.
Dean sighed and shook his head, standing and pulling Sam up by his writs, being unusually gentle with him, "Let's just get you cleaned up."
Sam adverted his gaze to the floor as his brother picked up the first aid kit and nudged him toward the bathroom.
"Undress Sammy." Dean said firmly, setting the kit down on the counter; busying himself with opening it.
Sam just blushed at the command, making no move to do so.
"Sam, I need you to undress, that's the only way I can know for sure that you're not cutting anywhere else." Dean said in a patient voice.
Sam slowly complied, doing his best to cover himself as he looked away. Dean only pushed his hands away for a second then just glanced over the rest of him. Once he was satisfied that Sam was only mutilating his arm and thighs he pointed to the shower.
"Rinse off Sammy, it'll make this easier." Dean said calmly.
He backed up to the shower and reached his hand in, frowning when he found it had gone cold. He fiddled with the knobs, trying to adjust the heat.
While Sam was busying himself with rinsing, Dean left the bathroom and pulled on his pants, fastening them and running a hand through his still wet hair.
When he came back, Sammy was rinsed and drying himself off, shivering as the coolness of the bathroom was magnified by the drops of water still clinging to his body.
"Sit down on the counter for me, ok?" Dean asked once Sammy had taken his sweet time drying off, though still shivering.
The youngest hunter nodded and shuffled over to the counter, turning around and placing his hands on either side of him and hopping up onto the counter, then quickly replacing his hands in front of his crotch to protect what little pride he may have left.
Dean first pulls his left arm away, telling Sam to hold it just the way it was once he had gotten it into an angle where the cuts were illuminated by the lights above the counter.
Dean picked out the bottle of rubbing alcohol and the small bag of cotton balls. He took out one piece of cotton and unscrewed the cap, replacing the cap with the cotton and tipping the bottle, holding it for a second then putting the bottle back down and rubbing the now wet cotton up and down Sam's forearm until he was satisfied that it was cleaned.
He then picked up the gauze and wrapped it up, only two layers, it wasn't bad enough to need more. Once his arm was finished, he turned his attention to Sam's thighs. He tossed the previously used cotton ball and put more alcohol on the new one, his hand going to Sam's knee and slowly pressing it down onto the cut.
Sam gave a small whine at the sudden sting, his hands clasping in front of him tight. He closed his eyes as Dean rubbed the cut clean, finally stopping when it wasn't hurting Sammy anymore. He threw that one in the trash and repeated his previous task, rubbing at Sam's deeper cut until it wasn't stinging then moving on until he'd cleaned up all his self inflicted wounds. Once they were cleaned, he rubbed some sort of cream on them, what it was, Sam didn't know, but there was still a mild sting from when Dean had been cleaning him up.
Dean looked up at Sam and took his wrist, stepping back and tugging at it until Sam slipped off the counter. Dean grabbed the gauze squares and pressed them against the shallower ones, holding one and frowning as he grabbed another and held it next to the other one, one being pinned by his thumb the other with his little finger. Once he had them placed where he wanted them, he grabbed the roll of gauze and wrapped it around Sam's thigh seven or eight times before taping it off, repeating this process with the other not so deep cut.
When Dean got to the deeper ones, though, Sam whimpered at the pressure, his hands shaking where he held them still trying to cover himself. Dean looked up at his brother and frowned.
"I don't want to hurt you anymore than you already have Sam, it's bad enough that one of us is a danger to you." Dean said somewhat bitterly, "But I have to bandage you up."
Sam nodded sadly, biting at his lip as Dean dressed up that cut the fastest he could while still keeping it neat and tidy.
He was trying to be a bit gentler with the last one, the deepest one. The first had been very small especially compared to this one, that had been the one that he had walked in on, then the other two were deeper, but this one was just shallow enough that it wouldn't need stitches, ok maybe it did, but Dean didn't want to hurt Sam anymore, and he didn't have anything to numb it while he stitched him up. He could take him to a hospital, but then they'd know they were self inflicted and admit him to some happy home, and that was the last thing the two needed.
Yes Sam needed help, but Dean knew that he wouldn't do well with a counselor he didn't know or like, staying with Dean would be far better. Dean didn't want his brother to be locked up in the loony lounge either, it almost drove him crazy when Sam'd been at Stanford or when Dean was in the hospital about to die, just knowing his little brother was unprotected.
The mental motel would defiantly be a last resort.
Once he had carefully bandaged up his brother, he straightened up and dug through the kit, taking out a bottle of Tylenol and dumping some out into his hand. He poured all but three back into the bottle and held those three out to Sam, picking up the little plastic cup that was upside down by the sink and filling it half way with water before handing it to Sam as well.
"Take them, they'll help with the pain." Dean instructed.
Sammy nodded and did as he was told, drinking all the water before putting it back next to the sink. Sam didn't notice until then that he was still shivering, but by the way Dean draped his arm around Sam's shoulders and steered him out of the cooler room into the slight warmth of the main one, Dean did.
He eased Sam down onto the bed farthest from the door then went around to the other side, picking up the razor and sliding it into his pocket.
"Get some rest Sammy, you're not sleeping enough."
Sam normally would have been arguing with his brother by then about how he was being treated, but Sam was very embarrassed and really guilty that he had been caught hurting himself, and he was just too tired to argue anyway.
Sam crawled up into the bed and burrowed under the blankets, laying on his side. He couldn't lay on his back, then he'd have to look at the ceiling, and after Jess, that was just too hard. Sam couldn't lay on his stomach either because of his self injured thighs, so it was his side or emotional and/or physical pain.
He snuggled down into the too soft mattress, his head resting on a too hard pillow. It took him a lot less time than he thought it would to fall asleep, but before he knew it, he was actually asleep.
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Dean sat down on his bed, pulling the razor out of his pocket. He stared at it for what must have been at least an hour before he gripped the dull part tight, throwing it and embedding it into the wall.
He was mad at himself, not Sam. If he should have pried harder, then Sammy wouldn't have done that to himself. Then Sam wouldn't be a danger to himself.
Dean just didn't know if he could trust his brother alone again, but first off he'd have to talk to Sam about, try to find out just what was going on.
"I just can't believe I let that happen." Dean whispered.
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A/n: Tochi: Wow, emotional chapter… for me at least. Hard to write for reasons I won't tell you about until the last chapter.
Linc: Another disclaimer! Wow! We don't own Tylenol either… though I do take a butt load of it…
Flap Jack: Druggie Anyway, read, review, alert, join army, you know the drill by now.
