Chap. 4 When You're Hurt I Hurt Too

"It's okay, I'm right here. Come on, wake up," Dean urged his unconscious brother softly, his voice shaking. His fingers felt Sam's neck. Was his heart beating? Yes, thankfully, a vigorous pulsing was present.

His little brother was alive, thank Heaven.

Dean moved to scan his sibling's chest. He had had such a terrible fall. Could he still breathe? He became frightened when he saw that Sam's form was not heaving up and down as it normally should. Dean listened close near Sam's cheek. He couldn't feel any gentle airflow.

Dean's face contorted in fear.

"Sammy, can you take a breath for me? Just one breath, okay?" Dean patted Sam's chest.

Seconds passed. Sam didn't breathe. Dean grabbed him, about to do something, anything. Suddenly, Sam released a weak gasp. A moment went by. Then Sam gasped again.

"It's alright, you're gonna be fine," Dean comforted, his voice hitching. He blinked back tears he hadn't even realized were there. "You're okay, Sammy." He held his little brother in his arms. Sam's form relaxed in his grip, and a moment later he had resumed his normal breathing. Dean realized Sam had just had the wind temporarily knocked him out of him as a result of the hard impact his midsection had gotten from the step. Oh, there was nothing scarier in the world than seeing your baby brother stop breathing… Dean had worried Sam was dying. But thank goodness, the problem had been reversed.

Carefully, Dean lowered Sam to the carpet again and rolled him onto his side. Sam was breathing now, but he had not regained consciousness. Dean was worried his brother may have fractured his skull or broken both legs. He gently brushed back Sam's long hair to examine his head. There was a large welt on one side of Sam's head, but no blood. What about his limbs? Dean tenderly felt his younger brother's legs and arms for any signs of a fractured bone. Miraculously, everything seemed fine. He checked Sam's torso and frowned when he saw how bruised it was.

It was mainly Sammy's stomach, then. And his head.

"Hang in there, okay? I'm gonna go get you an ice pack." Dean got up and rushed over to the cooler in the kitchen. He grabbed a frozen pack and wrapped it in a dishcloth.

Once he was back at his brother's side, he gently pressed the cold pack to the bruise on Sam's head. Sam's face remained still and serene as Dean applied the soothing remedy. After a bit, Dean put the ice on Sam's torso. Sam's lashes fluttered slightly then but did not open. He uttered a faint moan. Dean winced, feeling his little brother's pain in his own heart like a dagger.

It was his fault Sammy was hurt. The younger man must have sleepwalked again and fallen down the stairs as a result. An outcome that might've been avoided if only Dean had been at home with Sam that night…

"I'm sorry, man, I never should've left you alone. I should've been there—I shoulda caught you," Dean stammered, remorse overtaking him.

Sadness and concern filled Dean's eyes as he gazed down at his little brother. Gradually, however, he noticed that Sam's eyelashes were beginning to twitch.

"Hey, Sam? Sammy… Wake up. It's me. I'm here." Dean gently patted his sibling's shoulder.

"Ohhh." Sam sighed and murmured painfully. Slowly, heavy lids lifted to reveal wan crescents of hazel light. "Hey, Dean…"

Dean smiled in relief. "Hey. You alright, Sammy?"

Sam tried to move, but his face quickly scrunched up. "Ow."

"Is it your head?" Dean asked quickly.

"Yeah, and stomach, and just…all over."

"Okay, I'm-I'm gonna get you another ice pack, okay?" Sam's fingers reached for Dean's arm, weakly clutching the fabric of his sleeve. Dean hated to leave his brother, even for a moment. But he needed to reduce his pain as much as possible. "I will be right back, okay?"

"Okay."

Dean ran back to the kitchen and fetched a second cold pack. He placed it on Sam's head, while the other pack remained on his stomach.

"That better?" Dean queried.

"Mu' better," Sam slurred. "What...happened to me? I don't remember...falling..."

"You did fall. You took a tumble down the stairs," Dean affirmed gently. "You alright?"

"Think so. The...the last thing I did was get in bed..."

"You must've been sleepwalking again," Dean surmised.

"Ohhh, man..." Sam grimaced. "I did it again, huh?"

"'Fraid so, Sammy."

Sam slowly sat up, grunting in pain. He pressed two hands to his tender middle. "Your gut took a hard hit there. Pain bad?" Dean inquired. Worrisome thoughts of anything from a ruptured appendix to internal organ damage ripped through his mind.

"I'm okay; it's bearable," his younger brother reassured him hoarsely. He gripped Dean's hand tight. Slowly, carefully, Dean helped Sam stand up. Sam hunched over, his breathing ragged. Dean flung his arm around Sam's back and helped him walk haltingly up the stairs.

"You could've broken all your bones, dude," Dean murmured once Sam was back safely in bed. He had given his brother some Tylenol.

"Or suffered major head trauma. When adults fall down stairs, it can be more serious than it is for kids. Adults don't really...bounce off steps like kids do." Sam winced and pressed the ice pack to his head again.

"We're sleepin' in the same bed tonight," Dean announced. He had to monitor his brother to make sure he didn't sleepwalk again or have a medical emergency.

Sam mustered a weak protest. "No, then you won't get any sleep. I'll be fine-"

"We're not arguing on this one." Dean meant it.

Sam sighed and pouted. Dean got into bed and propped himself up beside Sam. "I might kick you," Sam warned in a faint voice.

"Not a problem." It wouldn't be the first time Sam's long legs had hit Dean when sharing a bed.

Sam shut his eyes. Dean did not fully lie down. He couldn't make himself do it; he was almost afraid to fall asleep, afraid that Sammy would rise in his sleep or stop breathing while he was oblivious.

Dean watched Sam roll over from one position to another with a moan.

"You okay?"

"Yeah...every breath just kind of...hurts a bit. But the ice helps."

"Okay." Dean watched his brother's recumbent form with concern in his eyes. Minutes passed.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I forgot to ask you... How did things go at Crunchin'?"

"Well, Mrs. Holbrook did show up. Wasn't able to get much outta her, though. She's still grieving, I can tell. And she seems to blame herself for what happened to her husband. The ghost showed up again."

"At the restaurant?"

"Yeah. It was weird. Somethin' about that phantom worries me, Sam. I don't like how you've started sleepwalkin', right after it got its creepy claws on you."

"Maybe it cursed me with parasomnias." Sam's voice was getting heavy as he began to drift into sleep.

"That's exactly what I'm worried about."

"No, don't want you to worry about me..." Sam sighed deeply, his frame relaxing. Slumber was imminent, Dean could tell.

"Alright, little brother, you just go to sleep now," Dean said soothingly. A minute later Sam had done just that. Dean listened to soft breaths pass in and out of Sam's mouth. He was so sorry he had been hurt. He was determined to get to the bottom of this parasomnia, supernaturally-initiated or not.

After a while, when it appeared that Sam was motionless and tranquil in his sleep, Dean slowly lay down fully next to him. He took Sam's slack hand in his and shut his own eyes.

Stay close, Sammy.