A/N: Has it really been so long? Sorry guys. Thanks for being so patient with me. Holidays finally started on Saturday so hopefully I'll update more. Ok so still not decided if this is going to be AU or not but I still have more ideas with no Sam so yeah. Hope u enjoy!

I stared at him in disbelief, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Finally, I found my voice. "Did, DID YOU JUST ASK ME HOW MY STITCHING WAS?" By the end of the sentence I was pretty much screaming. I mean, come on. He's got to be kidding. Right? No way can I stitch up a wound. I can't even get a stupid hem to stay stitched to stay fixed let alone actual flesh.

"You need your ears tested, sweetheart?" He quipped tiredly as his hand dropped from my arm. Did he look worse or was I just panicking? "Keep your voice down. The walls aren't exactly sound proof."

I glanced worriedly at the peeling wallpaper. I need to keep my head. Somehow. "Crap, Dean." I sighed. "I'm not a med student." That would have been nice. But then again, med students don't sew up people in crappy motel room with no equipment or whatever. Well, at least I didn't think they did. Med students were weird.

Dean rolled his eyes and applied pressure to his stomach. Looking closely, I could see the outline of some kinda bulky bandage. "Of course you're not. If you were that would be lucky." I gave him a small smile and shuffled awkwardly. "And I'm not lucky." He added.

"Well, your blood-soaked shirt kinda gave that one away." I couldn't just let Dean die. I needed to stop the bleeding. I needed to get help. I needed to… Oh god. I didn't even know what I needed to do. With a deep breath to get over my squeamishness or at least squash it I asked a question I knew I was going to regret. "What do you need me to do?"

With a fleeting look of relief, Dean motioned to a worn looking first aid kit on the chair. "There's some dental floss in there. I would do it myself but I can't really bend over right now…" he trailed off. Wait, did he say DENTAL floss? I closed my eyes and forced myself to calm the hell down. I could do this. Without any further hesitation, I hastily ripped open the first aid kit. "Oh and can you also bring the pain pills and the small bottle of whisky?" Dean called. I nodded tensely and grabbed the requested items and dumped them on the bed next to Dean. He promptly took a pill and began to navigate the removal of his T-Shirt. I gulped. That was a lot of blood and a hella lot of bandage.

"So… what first?" I asked shakily. I did not want to do this.

In a completely calm voice he gave instructions. "First remove the dressing."

I bit my lip as I peeled back fabric from his skin. When I got to the last layer I gasped. There were three long, gaping slashes. And they looked deep. He handed me the whisky without a word. I looked at it confusion before realising alcohol sterilises. Duh. I went to go and pour it on the wound when he said "Wait." I frowned in incomprehension. "Take a swig. I can't have your hands shaking." I glanced at said hands. Yeah… they were shaking. I nodded and drank a couple of mouthfuls, ignoring the burn of cheap alcohol as it made its way down my throat. I then proceeded to 'clean' the wound. "Now the needle." Dean instructed. I nodded and proceed to douse the needle in whiskey. Despite the floor being stained and generally unclean I still winced when a damp patch formed. I had been raised with the threat of death if a carpet got so much as a crumb on it. Next I got the dental thread and took a couple of times to thread the needle. Come on, Jess. I was wasting too much time.

"Ready?" I felt Dean tense in anticipation.

"When you are, sweetheart." He sounded nonchalant but the set of his jaw betrayed his nervousness. Yeah, I guess having a girl with bad sewing skills stitching you up wouldn't exactly fill you with confidence. With one last deep breath, I proceeded to stab the needle into Dean's flesh.

Several hours later I leaned against the motel bathroom wall after washing my hands viciously and shuddered. That had been… terrifying. Oh god. Dean was probably going to get a horrible infection and die. I closed my eyes and attempted to delete the past hours from my memory.

"Jess?" Dean voice came through the thin wooden door sounding concerned. Ironic that he was concerned about me when he was the one who had stitches. "You good?"

It took a couple of times to get me voice to work. Guess I was kinda traumatised. "Yeah." I laughed. Why was I laughing? Maybe I was more in shock than traumatised. "I'm OK."

There was a slightly awkward pause. "You sure?"

"Um… I guess." Yep. I sounded very reassuring.

"You don't sound sure."

"I'm sure." I glanced in the mirror while checking my pockets for my cell. I looked like crap but whatever. When I found my cell, I checked the time and… Shit. I had to get back to Stanford.

TBC…