Sammy shook his head, very slowly at first as he watched Dean remove the cap - he wasn't sure if he could do this, to handle anymore pain. Sure, he knew well enough by now, if your doing this line of work - and from experience of seeing his father and brother hurt - you're bound to come home with injuries. Not that he 'chose' this line of work... but that aside, this is the worst off Sam has ever been. His hair flopped over his eyes as he shook his head harder.

"I can't, Dean." He half sobbed, half whined; clutching at his side so hard and willing the pain to just leave.

Dean studied his brother for a second, "Yes, you can, Sammy. I know you can. I know you can do this."

"No... Dean-"

Damn, those puppy eyes. "Yes... yes you can, Sam." Dean wasn't about to let his drop, all the kid needed was some encouragement and reassurance. "I'll take care of you and you'll be okay. Do you trust me, little brother?"

Sam nodded slowly, "Yeah..." Of course he trusted Dean, there wasn't anyone on this entire planet he trusted more. He trusted Dean with his life. And that's saying a lot.

Dean nodded shortly, "Alright, Sammy. Let's do this, huh?"

Sam swallowed, and turned slightly burying his face fully into his brothers black t-shirt, and squeezed his eyes shut; his way of giving his brother full consent to take control, he wasn't sure his mouth or other body parts would cooperate, so finding comfort in his brother seemed to do the trick. Dean sat the bottle of hydrogen peroxide down on the bedside table for the moment, he needed to remove the kids shirt. Sam felt Dean gently pry his hands away from his abdomen, letting him take hold of his brothers shirt instead - Sam instantly clutched at the hem of his big brothers faded shirt, bunching the material between clenched fists. He felt Dean take hold of his blood soaked top, gently lifting it away from the stickiness of thick crimson and slid it up past his ribs.

"Let's get this off of you," Dean said, pulling the t-shirt to his chest. "Think you can lean up a little for me, Sammy?"

Sam mumbled a groan in response, but leaned away from his brothers chest. Dean held Sammy with one hand helping him lean up slightly as he removed the bloodied top with his other hand. Sam moaned a sulky moan as he felt the coldness of the room hit him immediately, letting him shiver so subtly. Before resuming his place against Dean's chest.

"Sorry, Sammy." Dean said, feeling bad for his baby brother, as he retrieved the brown bottle.

Dean readied the cloth in one hand as he tilted the bottle of hydrogen peroxide with the other; he didn't know if he was ready for this - patching his father up, that was one thing, but patching Sammy up... HURTING Sammy, it was Dean's job to look after his little brother not to hurt him. Even if it was for Sam's own good. Sure, Dean had patched his brother up on numerous times - more times then he can count on each star in the sky - from skinned knees, to the odd splinter in the finger, but it didn't mean he enjoyed it any better. He hated seeing his brother upset, or in tears, it was never a good feeling. It was his job to dry those tears, to make everything better.

Which is exactly what he was about to do. But not yet.

Because, first he had to cause the tears...

...before he could dry them.

Dean moved the soaked white cloth towards his brother at the same time of placing his left hand to Sam's chest, and rubbing softly to calm his little brother.

Sammy felt the cloth as soon as it touched, he grit his teeth to stop from crying out and squeezed his eyes tighter, along with his grip on the shirt being a sudden death grip on the black cotton. The burning sensation that had been present had nothing on this - there was no other way to describe it, other than - pure hell... that had to sum it up to what Sam was feeling.

"Just relax, Sammy. Just relax." Dean soothed, at his brothers sudden tense posture.

Sam's body took on a mind of its own, he could feel it instinctively trying to avoid the pain and flinching away every time Dean pressed down on the gash. His whole body was overridden by light tremors, that involuntarily shuddered right down to his core. He couldn't help the first tear that escaped, as it rolled down his cheek and disappearing into the thin cotton of his brothers shirt, but that tear wasn't lone as another slid down and then another.

Dean felt every movement, every flinch, each time his little brother tried to pull away; he kept his left hand protectively placed on Sam's chest as he continued to rub it gently.

"Almost done, kiddo." He reassured lightly, praying for this part to be over.

After the wounds look thoroughly cleaned, Dean set aside the used cloth and reached for the first aid again, unzipping the first closure. He retrieved the suture kit, and a bottle of alcohol to clean the tools with. He thoroughly swipped the disinfectant over each instrument before setting them down on an unused splayed out cloth on the quilt cover.

"Okay, Sammy. I need you to hold really still for me." Dean said talking a hold of the forceps - he always found the name a little absurd, when the instrument looked to him like a simple pair of tweezers. He situated the tool in his first three fingers of his left hand as you would a pen, and steadily moved his hand forwards to hover over the first gash to be sown.

Even though Dean was preoccupied with getting the instruments ready, his attention and focus never wavered from the kid; keeping his little brother in his peripheral view.

With the forceps now occupying his left hand, he then grasped the needle holder in his right by partially inserting his thumb and ring finger into the loops of the handle. Using the needle holder he grasped the threaded curved needle at its centre.

"Okay... here we go, Sammy." Dean warned, he carefully pinched the skin edges together of the first wound with the forceps, feeling his brother automatically tense.

He guided his right hand just above the wound, and rotated his wrist to have the needle pierce the skin at a 90 degree angle. With careful precision he pierced the needle through the first layer of the skin.

Dean being ever attentive to his brother heard Sammy's gasp, as well as the tightening of fists in his shirt.

"Easy, Sammy. Easy." He soothed, as he pushed the needle right through, and moved his hand to pull it from the other side. He pulled the thread through leaving 3 cms remaining to tie it off in a square knot. He began the knot by wrapping the longer of the two ends over the needle holder, then grasped the short end and drawing it through the loop, tightening it just enough to just pull the skin edges together. Then repeated the knot twice more, and cut off the ends leaving 3 mm tails.

With the first stitch complete, he guided the tools 4 millimetres from the first one to start on the second suture. As he pierced the first layer of skin like he'd done on the first stitch, he heard Sammy's sharp intake of breath. Then a ruggered outer breath, followed with another fast intake.

He recognised the signs without being told.

"Whoa, Sammy." Dean carefully removed the needle before completing the stitch, and placed all three instruments back on the cloth.

"Just breathe, Sam. Slow, deep, breathes." Dean encouraged as Sam's breathing quickened and from how rapidly shallow it was, he knew Sam was going into shock on him. He pressed his fingers to Sam's neck feeling the weak but rapid thumping of his pulse, and placing his other hand to Sam's chest, the fast rising and falling of his chest.

Sonovabitch... he knew he had to get the kids breathing slowed - RIGHT NOW. He didn't need this, the kid didn't need this - he knew the seriousness of shock and that it had to be addresses immediately... because right now, death wasn't even an option.

Sammy weakly turned his face from his brothers chest, his disorientated eyes staring up at his brothers face.

Dean ignored the paleness of the kids lips, and focused on keeping his little brother calm. "You're getting a bit stocky on me there, Sammy." He said, trying to keep his voice light. "Just breathe, kiddo. In, an' out, in, out-"

Dean waited till Sam started following direction as he kept his hands firmly planted to the kids pulse and chest. "That's it, Sammy. In and out, nice and slow." He gave his brothers chest a rub as more encouragement, and feeling his breathing slowly regulate. "That's my boy, Sammy." He praised, brushing the hand he'd held to the kids pulse through his little brothers bangs, and sweeping them from his large brown pain filled eyes. "That's my boy."

Even though his little brothers breathing was as back to normal as it could be in his current situation, he was far from out of the woods yet. Dean still had to finish stitching those deep wounds; wishing he'd picked up a vial of lidocaine on their last hospital visit. And maybe administrate a good dose of antibiotics to stop any infections.

"Okay, kiddo. Let's get this done. Just try and relax for me alright." Dean said doing a double quick check on his little brother, to make sure the kid was alright for now. He gave the kids chest a comforting rub, before resuming his hold of the suture instruments, but didn't make any other move other than grasp the equipment in the same grip as before.

The look on Sammy's face stopped any action.

The kid had those damn big puppy eyes with that mop of hair and those bangs that constantly fell over his little brothers eyes - he was forever sweeping that unruly hair aside - his bottom lip was slightly quivering and his eyes moist... but the thing that got to Dean the most was the look, it was a look of pleading... him practically begging Dean to take the pain away.

It was killing him.

And those eyes... those eyes were practically eating away at his heart - an inch every time he caused Sammy pain.

Dean regained his composure, he needed to stay strong for Sam.

"I know, Sammy... I know. Look, we'll be done soon, and then you can rest." He soothed; wishing he could take the pain from his little brother. "Everything will be okay, I promise, Sammy."

Sam nervously bit his lower lip and nodded slowly, as he took a deep shaky breath; taking reassurance in his brothers words and silently turned burying his face against Dean's shirt covered stomach again. He hadn't let go of the shirt the whole time, his fingers still clutching it just as tight as he had at the start of this whole nightmare. He knew Dean knew he'd just given him the go ahead, but he just wanted it to all be over with.

Dean sighed, "I promise everything will be okay, little brother." He repeated, but this time he felt it was more to reassure himself than Sam. He sighed again, before resuming where he'd left off before.

He set down the needle holder in trade for an unused cloth and gently dabbed at the freshly seeped blood, earning a small hiss from Sam. He tossed the rag aside to retrieve the needle holder, and getting a good grip on the curved needle again.

And on to the second stitch...

The bedside clock ticked by as the minutes passed - though the time was the least of Dean's worries, but he knew it had to be well after one by now as they hadn't left the forest till around half past twelve. So he knew it was late, and also well and truly past Sam's bedtime - though glancing down at his little brother, he wasn't sure if the kid was dosing or not, but in the last few moments he hadn't heard a peep from him.

For Sammy's sake it'd be a good thing if the kid did happen to nod off and for Dean it'd be one less thing to worry about - if the kid slept, least he won't feel the pain.

But Sammy wasn't asleep, in fact, he was far from it - sure he was tired, more than tired, but the pain was too overpowering for sleep to overcome him. Instead he kept his teeth gritted tightly together to keep silent, as non-stop tears filled his eyes.

He wanted to be strong, to be brave, as a hunter should.

Just as his big brother was.

Dean kept his focus between keeping the stitches as neat and small as possible to minimising scaring, whilst keeping a constant eye on his little brothers current state. He tied off another square knot, and went on to stitch seventeen...

Sammy still stayed quiet. Dean had felt his chest after every few stitches, just for reassurance that the kid was still breathing okay, and everything was as normal as it should be. Some may call it overprotective, or a worry wart; but to Dean checking on his kid brothers well being came as natural as breathing.

But his hope was short lived, as he started on the next stitch. He'd just pushed the curved needle through the first layer when a small whimper came from his little brother.

So much for trying to be stoic...

"Sammy?" Dean called softly.

"Hmm," Came the mumbled response, as Sam shifted slightly in his position against his brother.

"How you going back there, kiddo?"

"Tired, Dean. Hurts..." He mumbled with a tinge of a whine against his brother, with his face still pressed against his shirt covered stomach.

Dean sighed lightly, "I know, kiddo. Almost done." He knew that was only half truth, they were only mid way though. But Sammy didn't need to know that; a small white lie never hurt no one, and besides almost done sound better then half way there.

"De-an..." Sammy whined in the way only little brothers could master, bringing out the one syllable name and dragging it into two.

"Just relax, Sammy. We'll be done soon." Dean reassured, guiding the curved needle the rest of the way though the skin, and gently pulled it from the other side leaving the 3 mms of thread, then tied off the square knots.

Sam snuffled quietly into his brothers warn shirt, as tears ran down his cheeks. He'd tried to hold out as long as possible and ride out the pain, not wanting to break down and look like a baby in front of his big brother; but it was too much... it was ALL too much - he was tired, he was hurting, and now he was crying. He felt really miserable.

If Dean hadn't been so in tune with his brother he'd never had caught it, it was so faint but he'd heard it. Dean was silently proud of his brother, that the kid had held out for this long - he knew how painful this was, having endured the same pain himself on numerous occasions.

But they were hunters. Their father had taught them years ago - before Sammy was even ready to come out on hunting trips - and then almost every day from then on how to defend themselves, and the proper technique to fight, but also on how to handle pain. Sam only started coming out with them on hunts when he turned thirteen, so all in all, Sam had only been out on very few hunts and on those occasions only suffered very minor injuries which were patched up with a quick swipe of hydrogen peroxide and a band-aid; but Dean knew in his experience that this wouldn't be the last of Sammy's injuries.

Sam whimpered with a soft sob, as Dean pushed the curved needle through the deep wound again. He kept his face buried against his brother, and his hands were starting to cramp from how tightly he was gripping Dean's shirt.

"Shh, Sammy... It's alright." Dean soothed, getting ready to do the next stitch.

Sam winced as he felt the needle pushing into his skin again - he was more than ready for this to be over with - more tears escaped but rather than running freely down his cheeks, they soaked their way into the thin faded cotton, leaving behind a dampened mess.

Dean finished the stitch, and tied it off. "You're doing really good, kiddo." He encouraged, even though he felt like an ass for causing the pain. He sighed, before readying himself to make another stitch.

He shouldn't even be the doing this... sure, his little brother was his responsibility - but this was a job for a doctor. But even at an early on age his father had warned them about going to the hospital unless it was absolutely nessesary.

The less people knew about them, the better.

And people in authority ask too many questions, and they can't give out to many answers - and the more lies you tell, the harder it is to keep track of the lies.

Dean sighed again, as he tied off another stitch.

And the lies will never stop...

Cause he'll never stop being a hunter.

"Alright, Sammy. Only two more to go." He reassured his distressed little brother.

Sam wasn't holding out his sobs anymore with trying to keep them quiet - about five minutes ago he let go of any dignity he had left, and broke - with deep, heart wrenching sobs; his hands were balling up the material of Dean's shirt in death-clenching fists, and the flood gates opened with him bawling so intensely he didn't think he'd ever stop.

And he didn't give a damn who was listening either.

The pain was too intense to do otherwise.

After a painstakingly long half an hour, Dean was just setting the last stitch... stitch number twenty-seven to be exact. The werewolf had done a number on Sammy, leaving two large gashes that had needed stitching; the first one took twelve stitches, whereas the middle one had been a little longer taking fifteen. Luckily the others were just flesh wounds and would heal on their own.

"Almost done, Sammy. Just need to tie it off now."

If Dean's heart wasn't shattered before, it was now. The sound of his baby brothers crying tearing at every last string attached to it, and ripping it in two.

Dean finished off the last square knot, and cut off the end. Then did a half-assed job of packing the suture kit up, he'd fix it up later, but for now his little brother came first. He brushed his hand gently through the kids unruly mop of hair, and used his other hand to rub his brothers chest.

"Hey, hey Sammy." He said, giving the kids chest a firmer rub to get his brothers attention. "You need to calm down, little brother."

The kid was going to make himself sick if he kept this up.

"Sammy, listen to me..." He tried again, giving his brother another firm rub. "Calm down, kiddo. Or you're going to make yourself sick."

Not that having his little brother puke on him was anything new... the kid just sometimes had REALLY bad timing. But he didn't want the kid sick on top of being injured... that was like shooting a man when he was down - and that wasn't acceptable in Dean's book.

"That's it, little brother." He soothed, as the kids crying started to taper off. "That's it."

He wasn't overly concerned about having his little brother stop completely, just to take the edge off... and to let the kid take a damn breather. But he was almost certain the kid would be right back at it again.

He still had to administer a good dose of antibiotics, and he knew how much that shit hurt.

Content with his brothers soft sobs, he knew he had to get this next part done - the wound had been deep, and an infection was a big possibility. There was no easy way of doing this, so he'd just have to bear with more tears from the kid, and get it over and done with.

With that in mind, he reached into the first aid kit again feeling the sleek, glass vial of penicillin, he pulled it from the red softpack case and placed it down on the quilt cover before retrieving a sealed syringe and alcohol wipe from the same compartment.

...

Bella Lilac