Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

Author's Note: Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who took the time to review the last chapters. Glad you're still with me – now for the next chapter…

Untended Wounds

Written by Kokoda2007

Chapter 3

Dean rolled over in the bed, pulling against the call to wakefulness.

Blinking open his eyes, he looked around the room, immediately seeking out his brother. Sleep vanished from his tired body as he took in the now empty bed, where his brother should be lying.

"Sam …Sam?"

Dean rose from his bed, his movements hasty as he called his brother's name. Seeing the sliver of light under the bathroom door, he moved forward, intent on heading in that direction.

One closer glance at Sam's now vacant bed was enough to spur him into quickening his pace as he moved across the room.

Sam's bed was covered in blood. Sam wasn't in it. Dean didn't know whether to be thankful for that or not.

"Sam, you in there …Sam" Dean pounded on the wooden door.

His gut twisted, concern easily taking precedence over any presumption he had about barging into the occupied bathroom. Turning the door knob, he was relieved to find it unlocked, removing the necessity for him to kick it open.

He stood, mute for a moment, as his gaze rested upon the slumped form of his brother on the bathroom floor. Droplets of blood decorated the tiles around him and the sour smell of vomit permeated the air.

Snapping into action, he sank to his brother's side, relieved when Sam raised his head in surprise.

"Dean." Sam smiled weakly at his brother, the lines of pain evident on his pale face.

"God …Sam …what happened …where are you hurt?"

"Sorry Dean… …I …I fell asleep. Was gonna wake you …I …I don't feel so great."

Dean gripped his brother's shoulders as Sam started to slide against the wall and topple towards the floor. Sam yelped at the contact, Dean's fingers veering too close to his injured shoulder.

Hearing Sam cry of pain, Dean loosened his grip, pulling his brother forward into his chest so that he could more easily view his brother's back. A lump lodged in his throat as he took in the jagged puncture wound on his brother's upper shoulder.

"Shit Sam …why didn't you say something."

"Sooorrrry" Sam slurred into Dean's chest, resting his head against his brother's warmth.

Still holding Sam's shoulders, Dean eased his brother away from him slightly, so that he could look at Sam's face.

Unhappy with being removed from the warmth, Sam blinked at his brother. He tried to focus on Dean's face, but the image kept wavering, causing his stomach to churn uncomfortably. He gave up, dropped his heavy head and closed his eyes.

"Come on Sam, stay with me. Sam!" Dean gripped his brother's chin, holding up his head.

"Yeah." Sam answered, but didn't open his eyes.

"Sam! Are you hurt …bleeding anywhere else?"

"Just my …ah …shoulder."

"I'm gonna help you back to bed, okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, ready …up we go."

Dean braced his legs before gripping his brother under the arms and hoisting him to his feet. Sam offered no resistance and little help with the manoeuvre. Once upright, Sam wavered on the spot, leaning heavily on his brother. Pulling Sam close into his side, Dean wrapped one arm around Sam's waist before pulling his brother's other arm over his shoulder, keeping a firm grip of his hand to stop him from slipping. Bearing most of his brother's weight, Dean guided them back into the bedroom.

Again, the image of the blood stained bed hit him with shock. He gently released his grip on Sam, lowering his brother to sit back on the crimson stained bed.

Leaving his brother momentarily, Dean raced to switch on the light and grab their first aid kit. Returning quickly to his brother's side, he was relieved to find Sam seated in the same position, although he was wavering slightly, hands gripping the bed sheets as he obviously fought to keep his balance.

Sam struggled to remain upright, fighting against the lure of just lying back down and going to sleep. He knew that falling asleep was what had gotten him in this mess in the first place. Determination was imbedded in his character, and he called upon all of it to remain conscious. Breathing through the nausea and pain, he gripped the edge of the bed and tried to keep still, eyes closed as he waited for his brother.

A gentle hand landed in the centre of his chest, just as he started to sway dangerously forwards towards the floor. He let the hand push him carefully backwards, supporting him in an upright position.

"Its okay ...I gotch ya," whispered softly by his ear as Dean eased him back on the bed, positioning him to lie on his stomach. He could smell the damp odour of stale blood on the bed.

Sam lost consciousness as Dean tended the wound on his shoulder, pain and blood loss finally taking their toll.

Dean was somewhat glad that Sam had passed out as he began cleaning the blood off his shoulder and from around the punctured skin. He meticulously checked the wound site to remove any traces of dirt before suturing the torn skin closed. Grabbing some gauze, he held it tightly against the site, applying pressure to stop the small trickle of blood still escaping. Sam let out a deep moan, but didn't wake up. About 15 minutes of pressure was enough to stem the bleeding and Dean covered the area with antibiotic cream before covering the wound.

Sam remained passive as the area was cleaned and stitched before being firmly bandaged. Dean checked his brother's pulse, reassured to feel it strong but rapid beneath his fingers. Looking at his pale brother spread face down on the bloody bed he couldn't suppress the apprehension he felt as he tried to calculate just how much blood his brother had lost.

"Sam …Sam …Sammy" Dean gently shook his brother, trying to rouse him. "Come on man, enough beauty sleep …time to wake up now."

Sam moaned at the intrusion, fighting against the pull to full consciousness.

"Come on Sam …you're too freakin' heavy for me to be carrying your arse."

Sam opened a bleary eye, a whimper escaping at the harsh light.

"Come on man, work with me here …I'll even let you have my bed." Dean pleaded.

Seeing his brother starting to wake, Dean positioned himself to turn Sam on his side before hauling him back into a sitting position. Sam offered little assistance with the move, arms hanging uselessly at his side as he allowed Dean to shift him. With a supporting hand on his brother's frame, Dean crouched at the side of the bed, giving Sam a moment to adjust before moving him again.

"Dean …wh…what happened?"

"You know …if you don't like the color of the sheets …next time, just say something …"

Sam looked down at the ruined bedding.

"Come on Sam, you with me? …wouldn't mind a little help shifting you heavy arse to the other bed. …you know, I'm gonna let you have my bed tonight …because I'm awesome and everything ...Sam?"

"Nahhh, it's alright …I …I'll sssssleeeeeep heeeere." Sam slurred.

"No arguments Sam." Dean stated, pulling his unsteady brother to his feet.

Fortunately the other bed was only a couple of steps away, and Dean held Sam tightly as he inched him forwards before allowing him to collapse down on the bed, easing him to lie on his side. Before his brother got too comfortable, Dean pulled the blood splattered sweat pants from his legs, leaving him clad in a pair of boxers.

"Dean, ah ...wh …what yooouuu doin'? Sam asked in confusion, feeling his pants being pulled forcefully off.

Dean looked in concern at his obviously confused brother.

"Don't you remember?"

"Ah …I …um…"

"You wet the bed Sammy …thought you'd finally outgrown that habit..." Dean pulled the covers over his brother's shivering body, tucking them in gently.

"What? …Oh …ah …not funny Dean." Sam mumbled, slowly comprehending his brother's words. He pulled the covers in tighter, trying to get warm.

"Seriously, how ya feeling Sam?"

"Thirsty."

"Hang on a sec, I'll get some water."

After filling a glass, Dean returned a moment later to see Sam already half asleep, snuggled under the covers. He lifted his brother's head and raised the glass to his lips.

"Small sips okay?"

Sam took a few tentative sips, relishing in the feeling of moisture in his parched throat. As Dean removed the glass and lowered his head back down, he felt the weariness wash over him and closed his eyes. Sleep beckoned to him, and he no longer had the strength or will to fight against it.

Dean pulled a chair up beside the bed, sitting on it with his feet resting on top of the covers, next to Sam's side. He watched his brother sleep, waiting for the first few rays of daylight to creep in through the curtains.

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Author's note: Of course I'd love a review (asking nicely). Honestly, I'm still deciding whether to end this story here, or (as I often get sucked into doing) finding a way to hinder Sam's recovery. Maybe a sequel - very soon. I'm also thinking of maybe writing a story where Sam isn't one step from death's door.

To everyone following my other story "Obstruction", I haven't forgotten it – I will update soon.