Rule 7: Always wear clean underwear

Dean opened his eyes and rolled onto his side, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand that stood between the two motel beds.

It was a quarter to seven at night.

The hunter sat up and rubbed a hand tiredly over his face before peering to his right and seeing his brother already sitting up in bed. Sam sat with his back pressed against the headboard of his bed, a battered, water-stained copy of Watership Down held open in his hands though it was clear from his expression that he wasn't reading.

Dean stretched his arms over his head and was about to ask his brother when he had woken up but checked himself.

He knew Sam hadn't slept a minute, and how could he, with Hell rattling around in his head and Lucifer on his shoulder.

"Mind if I take first shower?" The eldest Winchester asked instead and Sam nodded almost imperceptivity.

Standing up and grabbing his duffel bag from where he had left it at the foot of his bed, Dean headed into the small bathroom to wash away the sleep from his mind and body and prepare himself for the hunt ahead.

W

Exiting the bathroom fifteen minutes later, the eldest Winchester noticed that Sam hadn't moved from his spot on the bed.

"Shower's free," he spoke quietly, almost as though he were in a library or a museum.

The younger hunter looked up and Dean held back the urge to frown and tell Sam that he could handle the hunt by himself tonight and that he should get some rest- but didn't speak, knowing it would do no good anyway.

Sam's eyes were dark green- almost black with exhaustion- and peered out from even darker circles like bruises surrounding them. The stubble that had shadowed his chin and cheeks only a couple of days earlier now looked as though it was striving fiercely to become a beard proper. Dean couldn't be sure- he didn't usually pay attention to such things- but he was almost certain that his brother was wearing the same clothes he had been for the past three days.

Dean was glad that he hadn't let Sam come along with him to the police station or to interview the witnesses of the attacks- his brother looked less like an FBI agent and more like a hobo- and made a mental note to get his sibling to try and focus on his personal hygiene a bit more.

"You ready?" his brother's voice jolted him from his thoughts and Dean nodded.

"You sure you can do this?" the eldest Winchester asked before he could stop himself.

Sam looked up at him, his expression for a split second was hurt before it hardened and he assured Dean that he was fine.

Knowing he had probably already gone too far, the eldest Winchester said nothing as he led the way out to the parking lot towards the Impala.

W

Dean's feelings of concern for his brother dried up- at least for the time being- as he kept in stride with Sam, a pistol loaded with silver bullets gripped tightly in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

Sam also carried a gun and his cell phone, staring at the map on the screen with the locations of the Black Dog attacks that had been occurring in the park over the past four weeks.

Several people had been killed- hikers and campers- while even more had barely escaped with their lives after witnessing the brutal deaths of their friends or loved ones.

Now, the park rangers were keeping overnight campers out of the area and even were going so far as to patrol the more heavily populated camping grounds for anyone foolish enough to be in the woods at night.

The local authorities believed that a cougar was responsible for the killings, despite what the witnesses claimed- it was dark, and there was no way they could really be certain of what they saw- and since there were no wolves in the area and only the occasional black bear, which rarely attacked people- the wild cat theory appeared to have stuck.

Dean's attention focused on his brother when Sam looked up into the woods around them- they were on a narrow hiking path- and stopped walking.

"What is it, Sammy?" the older brother asked, raising his gun to be ready for an attack, but then his sibling shook his head and continued onward.

"We should be getting closer to the Dog's territory?" Dean asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Sam didn't reply.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice slightly louder.

His brother continued walking forward; not even seeming to notice Dean hadn't caught up with him.

"SAM!" the older hunter snapped and his brother looked up sharply, half-turning to face him.

Abruptly, suddenly, before either Winchester could react, a patch of darkness tore itself from the surrounding shadows and ploughed into the younger Winchester's back, driving him to the ground.

"SAMMY!" Dean shouted, belatedly thinking: that thing was behind us, it was following us; it must have been.

Raising his weapon, the eldest Winchester squeezed off two shots into the creature's exposed back. Even as the Black Dog howled in pain, Dean heard Sam cry out as well.

"SAMMY!" Dean called a second time and fired his gun a third time, the bullet slamming into the back of the Black Dog's head, killing it instantly.

"Sam? Sammy!" the older brother cried and dropped to his knees beside his sibling, shoving the body of the monster off Sam and raising his flashlight to assess the damage.

Sam lay crumpled on the floor of the path, head turned to one side. Dean felt his stomach fill with ice when he saw the back of his brother's shirt darkening with blood and more blood matting his hair and the nape of his neck.

"Sammy? Sam? Can you hear me? Sam? Answer me!"

Leaning over his brother, Dean felt his heart skip a beat when he saw that Sam's eyes were open, just barely but they were glazed, with a far away look in them.

"Sammy?" he whispered, realizing that there was no way his brother was walking out of this forest.

Sitting up and panning his flashlight around, Dean spied Sam's cell phone lying a few feet away, facedown on a protruding rock.

Reaching out, the hunter grabbed the phone and smiled when he saw the screen unbroken. Pushing the home button and thumbing in Sam's password, Dean held his breath as he waited for a signal.

A groan from his younger sibling drew Dean's attention to Sam for a moment.

"D'n," Sam whimpered.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean murmured as he watched one and then two bars appear on the screen, "It'll be okay."

Dialing 911, Dean requested an ambulance to come to the campground because there had been another 'cougar' attack and his brother needed help. The dispatcher assured Dean that an ambulance was on its way to his location as they spoke and would be there in roughly ten minutes.

Shoving Sam's phone into his pocket, Dean returned his attention to his brother and, reaching out, took one of his hands to comfort him as much as he could until the paramedics arrived.

W

Dean opened the door to Sam's hospital room quietly. He had just finished speaking with his brother's doctor and was concerned about what he'd been told.

The Black Dog- or cougar, depending on who you asked- had managed to rake its claws down the younger Winchester's back, gouging him deeply enough to require stitches and had bit into back of the hunter's head before his brother had been able to kill it. Dean didn't much like the gashes in Sam's back but what really troubled him was the bite- and concussion from his fall- to his head.

Closing the door behind him, Dean was surprised when Sam raised his head slightly at the sound of the jamb clicking into place.

"Sammy?" he said and stepped forward, grabbing the chair set aside for visitors, pulling up to the hospital bed and taking a seat.

The younger Winchester was lying on his stomach because of the stitches in his back, his head resting on a starched, white pillow; the blood cleaned away from the bite marks. An IV line trailed from Sam's left hand to a pole standing beside the bed, giving the hunter painkillers and antibiotics to fight off possible infection.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke again but when he looked into his brother's face, he saw that his eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and steady.

The older Winchester smiled, glad that Sam was getting a chance to sleep.

Standing, Dean made his way to the stocky, white laminate-coated wardrobe beside the bed, on Sam's other side and found the clothes his brother had worn into the hospital, neatly folded and placed into a plastic bag, despite the bloodstains coating them.

Dean took the bag and opened it, deciding that he could get Sam some clean clothes to wear from his duffel in the Impala's truck.

Peering into the bag at the ruined clothing, still tacky with blood, Dean pulled back at the smell that wafted up; not only of blood but also of body odors.

"Whew Sammy," Dean waved a hand in front of his nose in an exaggerated way even though his sibling was asleep and wouldn't hear his teasing, "I sure hope you at least had the decency to wear clean underwear. Those poor nurses if you didn't."

Closing the bag back up, the hunter silently left the hospital room; grateful that he still had his brother even with all the baggage he carried.

Author's Note:

This rule comes from reannablue.

Thanks to GuardianOfMusic27855, CarverEdlundtheLast, BranchSuper, pryde23, SamDeanLover28, and StyxxsOmega for reviewing.

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