Disclaimer: Supernatural, the Winchesters, and any other characters and/or places which may appear do not belong to me.

Whumptober 2020, Day #25

Prompt(s): Disorientation; blurred vision; ringing ears

Author's Note: Tag to 11x11 Into The Mystic. Okay so in this episode — one of my favs — I noticed some time jumps. First, the final fight with the banshee occurs at night. Second, Dean and Sam exit the building in the morning. But then, Dean and Sam are back at the Bunker and they go to bed. So we skipped the rest of the night after defeating the banshee and we skipped nearly the whole day after. And we know it wasn't filled with driving because the living center was only a couple hours away from the Bunker, so they should've gotten back around noon at least I'd think, assuming they left around 9 or 10.

Today's Whumpee: Dean Winchester

As Eileen blasted the banshee away, Sam looked up, regaining his bearings and sitting up in his place on the floor where he'd been thrown by the red-robed monster.

Dean.

Sam scrambled to his feet and over to Dean, skidding to his knees as he looked at Dean and put a hand against his shoulder. Dean's eyes were clouded and his face had blood smeared all over it, but he was conscious and he made sluggish eye contact with Sam before looking down again. Sam glanced away from Dean momentarily, signing and mouth "thank you" to Eileen before looking back at Dean.

Sam moved into a more comfortable position and grasped both Dean's shoulders. His brother's body was tense and rigid with pain.

"Dean? Dean, hey, can you look at me?" Sam asked softly. Dean used a shaky hand to push himself more upright and looked at Sam. Green eyes slowly sought blue ones.

Yep, Dean was definitely concussed. Sam figured he'd would be.

"Okay, okay, c'mon, brother, let's get you off the floor, huh?" Sam released Dean's shoulders and moved his hands to his brother's elbows quickly so as not to let Dean fall backwards and injure his head even more. Dean was limp, near dead weight in his arms.

Mildred had stood up and walked a few feet away, leaving Sam to do what he was obviously perfect for.

"Dean, you're gonna need to help me, man," Sam said softly. His brother hadn't said a word and was starting to worry Sam. He didn't want to, but he needed his brother to get a little more conscious so he put some bark into his voice. "Dean!"

His elder brother blinked and winced as Sam's loud voice rang through his pounding skull.

Sam lowered his voice again. "Sorry, brother, but do you think you can stand? Just for a minute? We'll get you on the couch, you'll be more comfortable."

Dean nodded and slowly moved his feet under him. Sam counted to three under his breath, just low enough so Dean could hear him, and on three, they both stood, Sam bearing most of Dean's weight. It was a little rough with a few stumbles on both their parts but they eventually managed to get over to the couch. Sam gently sat Dean on it and leaned him onto his side before lifting his legs onto the sofa as well so that he was laying down. His eyes were closed and when he laid down he seemed slightly more relaxed but his eyes were still scrunched up in pain. Sam looked up to see where the bathroom was but Mildred appeared just then, holding exactly what he needed: a washcloth soaked with warm water to clean away the blood from his brother's face.

"Thanks," he whispered. "We — ah — we might end up being here till morning, I hope that's okay," he said awkwardly.

Mildred smiled. "That's perfectly alright, Sam, you two take your time."

Sam smiled at her before refocusing on Dean and gently wiping the blood away. Dean grimaced and kneaded a fist into the pillow under his head. Sam winced in sympathy.

He took care of his brother's as quickly as he could, Dean still laying limply, drifting somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. When he was finished, Dean's face looked a little more relaxed but there was still some pain there. Sam found himself exhausted after the fight and, completely forgetting Mildred and Eileen, he gently lifted Dean's head and shoulders and sat down before laying his brother back down so that Dean's head was resting on Sam's thigh like a pillow. Sam was pretty sure Dean would try to kill him if he found out his little brother had put him in this position but he could use Dean's concussion as an excuse for Dean not to exert himself. He would milk that excuse as long as he could.

Sam found himself growing tired and, grabbing a sofa pillow from the floor, he wedged it between his shoulder and head and rested on it. He was asleep within a few minutes, one hand under the pillow and the other resting on his brother's chest.

Sam woke up what must've been only a few hours later to Dean stirring.

"S'mmy," Dean slurred sleepily. "S'mmy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here, brother," Sam said. He opened his eyes and straightened, looking down at Dean's face. He patted Dean's chest gently. "Can you open your eyes for me, big brother?"

Dean gently turned his head to face up and at Sam. He blinked a few times before focusing on Sam in the dim room.

"Hey, there ya are," Sam said with a slightly smile, how voice low and calm.

Dean smiled lazily. Yeah, Dean was definitely sleepy and the concussion was part of that.

"'s that your leg as my pillow?" Dean slurred.

Sam laughed lightly, but he regretted a second later when it jostled Dean, causing him to wince.

"Sorry, brother." Sam ran a hand through Dean's hair. "Sorry, won't do that again. And yeah, this couch ain't long enough for the both of us so your dumbass gets to use me as a pillow," he said fondly.

Dean blinked again before turning onto his side a little more and crossing his arms. He swallowed a few times and closed his eyes. His breathing evened out again, more so as Sam continued to run a hand through his brother's hair, while keeping a hand on his brother's chest. Keeping him grounded, reassuring Dean, and himself, that they were there for each other.

Sam thought his big brother had fallen asleep again, and he was close to it again as well, but then Dean spoke quietly.

"Sammy?" he whispered.

"Yeah?" Sam whispered back. His eyes were closed as he leaned his head back.

"Th'nk you."

Sam raised his head and looked down at his big brother curiously. "For what? Taking care of your sorry ass?" he said with a hint of humor.

Dean's lips twitched. "Yeah," he said. "That and… just…." Everything. Sam didn't need to hear the unspoken word. His heart, already soft from taking care of his brother, melted a little more. Dean didn't often voice his thanks. He showed it in his motions. Tossing Sam a beer, making dinner for them both, picking up Sam's favorite type of salad from the grocery store, that kind of thing.

"Anytime, brother," Sam replied softly. He fisted Dean's shirt for a second, carded his fingers through Dean's hair one last time, then leaned back and closed his eyes. His own breathing steadied out and matched his brother's, Dean's hand slowly coming to rest upon Sam's which was still on Dean's chest.

Anytime.