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A Mother's Love

Sam had held on as long as he could, but he was fighting a losing battle. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, despite all his best efforts, his rebellious body was determined to complete the transition from sleeping to wakefulness. Even Mother Nature had turned against him, aiming a bright beam of sunlight onto his tightly shut eyelids. It was Sam's bladder that delivered the final blow. He received the message loud and clear. If he didn't get out of bed and take care of business soon, he'd lose a lot more than sleep.

Sam surrendered and raised his eyelids, squinting as the sunlight continued it's assault. He blocked the sun with his hand and turned his head to the right. "Ok, I'm up already!" he mumbled.

Sam's bleary eyes focused in on the bedside clock. 11:32? AM? How had he slept that late? And how had he ended up back at the motel? Sam rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. He remembered reaching the Impala after what seemed like an eternity traipsing through the woods. His next memory was seeing Dean's pinched face hovering above his, asking him the standard concussion test questions. He'd seemed pale, and more than a little worried, but after giving the proper answers Sam had fallen back asleep, too tired and sore to care.

Speaking of Dean…ok, he wasn't in his bed. In fact, it looked as if he'd never even gotten under the covers. Sam turned his head to the left and smiled as his hazel eyes landed on the still form of his older brother. Dean was fast asleep, sprawled in a hard-backed wooden chair next to Sam's bed. Dean's chin rested on his chest, his right arm wrapped around his middle as his left dangled limply.

Sam continued to stare fondly at his protector before his bladder sent him another not-so-friendly reminder that it was quickly losing patience. Sam heeded the warning and tried to pull himself up to lean against the headboard, but an unseen force was holding his right leg in place. Sam propped himself up on his elbows to see what was restraining him. A bubble of laughter worked it's way up, and Sam swallowed hard to not laugh out loud.

Dean had put Sam's right leg on top of, and in between, several pillows, and had strapped it to the bed with at least a dozen pieces of duct tape. Perched on top of his knee was a bag of ice that had long since melted. Bottles of water and aspirin were lying next to his leg, as was his father's journal. Dean had apparently spent the entire night watching over his sleeping sibling, finally succumbing to his own exhaustion. Sam was touched by everything Dean had done to take care of him, especially given the considerable amount of pain Dean had been in from his own injuries.

Sam took a deep breath and lurched upwards, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as the room swam at the sudden movement. Sam reached behind and fingered the lump on the back of his head. Dean's handiwork was evident there as well. Five expertly placed stitches sat atop the tender lump. His head still throbbed mercilessly, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He'd certainly had worse.

Sam slowly removed the duct tape, wincing as the tearing noise seemed as loud as a thunderstorm in the quiet room. He stripped off the last piece, pleased that he hadn't awakened Dean. He warily bent his right leg. There was some pain, but again, nothing he couldn't endure. The swelling had lessened considerably; maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd thought.

Sam swung his left leg off the bed and carefully maneuvered his right onto the floor. Using the headboard and the nightstand for support he raised himself up, keeping all his weight on his left leg. Sam squared his shoulders, let go of the headboard, took a step forward, and immediately fell to the floor as his pain in his right knee exploded.

Sam caught himself on his hands and left knee just before his face hit the musty beige carpet. He lowered his forehead to the ground and concentrated on his breathing until the pain began to subside. Once the pain was manageable he flipped himself over, making sure to keep his right leg straight, and leaned back against the nightstand.

"Sam?"

Sam could feel his face burn hot with embarrassment. He let out a self-pitying sigh and called out, "Down here, Dean."

A moment later Dean appeared at the foot of the bed. His right arm was still wrapped around his middle while his left hand rubbed the back of his neck. Dark circles rimmed his eyes as he blinked down at Sam.

"You ok?" Dean stiffly crouched in front of Sam. He reached out and grabbed Sam's chin, looking intently into the younger man's eyes.

Sam endured the scrutiny for a few seconds, then slapped his hand away. "I'm fine. Just thought I'd check out the view from down here."

Dean sat back on his haunches and nodded knowingly. "Uh huh. In other words, you were trying to go take a piss and fell flat on your face."

Sam sighed. This was turning into a swell morning. "Yeah, that's about right."

"Head or knee?" Dean's eyes flitted between the two injuries.

"Knee."

Sam put one arm on each bed and began hauling himself back onto his bed. Dean gave him as much assistance as his ribs would allow, then stood facing Sam.

He gave Sam a minute to rest, then held his hand out. "You ready for round two?"

Sam looked from the bed to the bathroom. Wordlessly he accepted Dean's arm and got to his feet. This time his leg was able to accept his weight, and he was able to limp to the bathroom without Dean's assistance.

After relieving himself, Sam checked out the damage Hannah had done to his throat. A ring of bruises ran along his throat like a colorful scarf. Sam decided it was time to invest in a turtlenecks. Now that he had been thrust back into the world of hunting, he had a feeling he would need it.

"So I did some research last night." Dean said from the other side of the bathroom door.

Sam zipped up and washed his hands. "On what?" he shouted over the running water. His heart beat a little faster. Did this have something to do with Jenna's so-called nightmare? The more time he'd had to think things over, the more convinced he was that Jenna had really encountered something supernatural the night before. Maybe Dean had come to the same conclusion. He could only hope Jenna's father had kept her safe through the night.

Sam opened the door and limped over to the bed where Dean sat with their father's journal splayed across his lap. Dean closed the book and laid it beside him. He looked up at Sam.

"I think I know a way to solve your problem." Dean paused dramatically. "I figure we have two options. One," Dean held up a finger, "we carry a large piece of plywood to lay over any stair we come upon."

Sam rolled his eyes. He'd known this was coming. He'd really put his foot in it, literally, when he'd stepped onto that broken stair at the Eagan cabin. Now he not only had to deal with the resulting sprain, but Dean's jokes, too. He sat down on his bed and prepared to endure his brother's mocking, knowing it was better for him in the long run to let Dean have his fun.

Dean raised his middle finger. "Two, we resort to piggyback rides. Now I say we go with the plywood, since I'm not exactly in the best shape to carry you around right now. Plus, you know, I have a reputation to protect and everything. I can't have people seeing me lugging around my gargantuan little brother. There's something a bit wrong about that, you know?"

Sam didn't respond. He figured Dean still had a little more in him. He was right.

"I'll give Caleb a call; see if he knows of any charms or talismans we can use to keep you safe from those dreaded steps. I mean, I'll do my best to keep you safe, but there's only one of me, and there's a whole world full of stairs." Dean leaned forward and whispered secretively. "Don't look now, but there are three steps right outside our room. It's ok; I don't think they know you're here."

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean. "Done?"

Dean shook his head. "I blame myself." he continued as if Sam hadn't spoken. "I taught you how to walk, but apparently I didn't spend enough time teaching you how to navigate stairs." He raised his puppydog eyes and looked sadly at Sam. "I'm sorry I let you down, Sammy."

"The stair was broken, Dean." Sam defended himself hotly.

"So of course you decided to stick your foot in it." Dean shrugged. "Makes sense to me."

"All right, enough!" Sam leaned forward and grabbed a bag off the bed, ignoring Dean's chuckles. He pulled out the first aid kit. "Shirt off."

Dean's smile faded. He gave Sam an uneasy look as he unbuttoned his shirt. Dean switched over to Sam's bed and pulled his t-shirt up as far as he could.

"Hold still." Sam ordered. He pulled Dean's shirt all the way up above his shoulders . He winced in sympathy as he took in the colorful bruising that decorated Dean's torso. "She got you good."

"You looked in the mirror lately? I don't know what messed you up more, that Hannah bitch or the evil broken stair. Hey!!" Dean yelled as Sam gave the bandages a sharp tug.

Sam smiled angelically. "They've gotta be tight, Dean."

Dean glared back but wisely kept his mouth shut through until Sam was done wrapping his ribs.

Sam finished up and put the kit away. "How's that feel?"

Dean lightly probed his ribs. "It fells like I got thrown into a freakin' wall."

Sam nodded sympathetically, then changed the subject. "It would probably be best if you distract Mr. Donovan while I sneak in to see Jenna. I don't think he'd be to keen on me talking to her again, especially since, well...you know." He still felt horrible about the tears she'd shed at their last encounter. But he only needed a little time with her, to make sure nothing else supernatural was going on. Only then could he walk away from the case.

Dean pulled his t-shirt down and grabbed his blue button down shirt. "You still want to go over there?"

Sam helped Dean get his shirt on as he spoke. "Dean, you didn't hear her. She was completely terrified. Something really scared her."

"Sam, she had a bad dream. What are you going to do, come running every time she has a nightmare?"

Sam pulled off his muddy shirt from the night before and rummaged through his bag for a clean one. "What if it wasn't?" Sam pulled a red shirt from the bag and slipped it on. "You can stay here if you want, but I'm going over there. I just can't shake the feeling there's something else going on here. Maybe something really is after the kids. If my inaction in any way brought harm to her..." Sam broke off and shook his head. "If there's any possibility something's after this child, I'm going to do everything in my power to save her."

Dean had a faraway look in his eyes, as if some distant memory was pushing it's way to the surface. He shook himself slightly and looked at Sam, a mixture of sadness and regret on his face.

Dean cleared his throat. "Ok, Sammy." he said huskily. "Let's go."

Sam sat stunned as Dean abruptly got up and grabbed his coat. Before he could question Dean's odd reaction, the older hunter stalked over to the door and yanked it open.

Dean turned back, his hand still on the door. "Look, I know you're not going to let this go until you see for yourself that she's fine. So, are you coming or not?"

Sam finished buttoning his shirt. "Uh, yeah." That was odd. He could usually read his brother like an open book, but he didn't quite know what to make of Dean's strange reaction. Maybe their years apart had changed their dynamic somehow. Whatever it was, they'd have to deal with it later. Normally Dean was first priority. But with Jenna's life possibly in danger, he had to focus on her right now. He made a mental note to finish this discussion at a later date.

Sam had almost gotten to the door when his knee began to buckle. Dean reached out and steadied his brother. His hand firmly around Sam's forearm, Dean guided Sam outside. Dean looked at the three steps leading from the motel down to the pavement. His worry lines smoothed out, and he grinned up at Sam.

"Oh, Sam…"

Sam yanked his arm free. "Bite me." Sam limped down the stairs, ignoring Dean's cackle as they got into the Impala. Dean was back to normal. Perfect.