Disclaimer: I realised that I haven't dropped in a disclaimer for a while. If anyone cares, I am not in any way associated with the people that own Supernatural.

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Sam woke to two things: one was a strange ringing sound that he couldn't seem to stop, and the other was an urgent message from his body that he had some problems that needed to be taken care of immediately if not sooner. Pain surged through his every inch of him, and he was aware of wet, sticky liquid seeping down his leg. Then he remembered exactly where he was and why. Being somewhat familiar with the sensation of bleeding heavily, he chose to ignore it for a few seconds to focus on the ringing sound. When he was fully in control of his facilities, he realised it was a cell phone – Jo's. Both Jo and Dean were still unconscious all over the bathroom floor, and that worried the young hunter. He dragged himself over to them with a soft grunt, checking first his brother and then Jo for a pulse. Both were strong and steady. Almost without thinking, he dug Jo's phone out of her pocket. "Yeah?" he snapped into the phone. There was a slight pause.

"Sam, is that you?" came a familiar voice.

"Ellen?"

"Yeah. Where's Jo?"

"Uh, she's here with Dean and me," Sam said, wondering how to cover up their current predicament.

"I need to talk to her."

"The thing is, Ellen, she's a little busy at the moment. She hasn't been feeling well the past couple of days and she's, uh, resting at the moment.."

There was another pause. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine."

"Has she been hunting with you?"

"Well, she showed up here with information that we needed, so we kind of let her assist us a little."

"But she's not feeling well?" Ellen repeated, as though trying to figure out if Sam was lying to her.

"Yeah. I mean, no she's not."

"You don't sound so good yourself," the woman responded. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm good. I'm just really tired. You know how hunting is." He hoped he sounded convincing, because he was ready to collapse again and he knew he still had to take care of his leg before he passed out from loss of blood.

"Well, have her call me when she's feeling better then." It was obvious from her tone that Ellen had decided Sam was lying but wouldn't call him on it yet.

"I will."

"Thanks, Sam."

"Bye, Ellen," he said as he disconnected the phone. He stared at the cell with distaste. What in the world made him think he wanted to answer Jo's phone in the first place? Shaking his head at himself, he set the phone down next to Jo and reached for the first aid kit that Dean had gotten out. He wasn't sure what had happened to his fellow hunters, but they seemed to be okay. There wasn't anything he could do for them – at least not until he took care of his own pressing problems. Shaking fingers pulled the needle and black suture thread out of the kit. Ah, when was the last time he'd given himself stitches? It was never a good idea; he knew that from experience. He'd be lucky if he didn't cause himself to pass out from agony. But then, it was either stitches or cauterising, and Sam knew with certainty that he couldn't cauterise it himself right now. He just hoped he could calm his trembling enough to stitch himself up without too much extra damage.

The first time he poked the needle into his skin, he jerked, but each time after that was merely an echo of the original pain. It was even tolerable, so he just took deep breaths until he finished. Sam reached up to touch the blood on his chest. It was seeping out, but not bad enough to require anything other than a changed bandage. It was an awkward position for him to work on. He had his chin on his chest, trying desperately to get a good view of his wound. Shrugging is apathy at this point, he tossed gauze on it and taped it down, not really caring if it was well done or not. Then he put a shaky hand up to his head. Even using the mirror, he would never trust himself to be able to stitch up his own head wound, especially in his current condition. Heck, he couldn't even tell if he needed stitches or not. Some gauze would have to do for now there, too. But when he touched the wound with the soft cloth, the pain made him groan quite loudly. He started cursing under his breath, not noticing the form behind him.

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Somewhere in the back of Dean's mind, his brother sense was sounding. In fact, it was what woke him up. Before he opened his eyes, he could feel that something was wrong and he needed to act. Then he remembered what had happened right before he inadvertently allowed everyone to fall unconscious, and his eyes snapped open, taking in the blood that was now almost everywhere and the youngest Winchester, who was holding a gauze pad to his head.

"SAM!" he called, trying to push himself off the ground.

"What?" came the grumbled response. "And would you please not shout at me?"

"Sorry," Dean said as he managed to get to his knees. There was a shooting pain in his left arm, but it would have to wait. Sam was in trouble and Dean couldn't be bothered trying to deal with his own injuries. 'Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam snapped with a mirthless laugh. "I'm great."

Rolling his eyes, Dean crawled over. "Let me see," he ordered, removing the gauze from Sam's hands.

"Ah," Sam said as his head started pounding. More as a reflex than anything else, his hands covered his wound so his older brother couldn't see it. "Don't; you'll just make it worse."

"I will not," Dean growled. "I'm trying to help you."

"I know, but your help is quite painful. Go away."

"Don't be such a baby, Sammy. Get your hands out of the way or I'll remove them myself."

Not gratifying that with a response, Sam pulled his hands down in front of his face, staring indifferently at the red that stained them. Dean gently wiped away the blood. The wound wasn't too deep. Head wounds bled a lot, and he couldn't see skull, so he wasn't overly concerned. It didn't even need stitches. If he'd had both of his hands working right, he would have slapped two butterfly bandages on it and been done. As it was, that would be difficult. But difficult was one thing that Winchesters could do.

"Your arm is disgusting, Dean," Sam said blithely, watching his brother intently. He felt a bit dizzy now, and the nausea that came with head injuries was almost overpowering.

"Thanks," Dean responded, not really registering the words that had been said to him. "Open those butterflies, will you?"

Sam complied, more out of a desire to get this over with than the need to help. Dean carefully wiped away more blood and stuck the first bandage across the wound. It was a cursory job at best, but it would do. The second bandage was even easier since the wound was already mostly closed from the first. Then he sat back and looked down. His eyes widened and the colour drained from his face. "Tell me you didn't stitch that up yourself. Did you?"

"You were busy," Sam grumbled, knowing what Dean was talking about. "I feel very light-headed. I think I'll go to sleep."

"Fat chance, Sam. You have a head injury. You know the drill."

"You're mean," the younger hunter said petulantly.

Dean laughed. "What are you, five? Come on. We need to get you to the couch so you don't end up getting an infection from this floor.
Can you stand?"

"Probably not, but I'm going to anyway or you'll never go away."

"That's my boy," Dean said, half-dragging his brother to his feet. Sam swayed dangerously but didn't fall, and after a moment to steady himself, he was able to stumble out of the bathroom. He tripped over Jo's leg, but luckily was able to catch himself before going down. The bothers made it to the couch, and both collapsed onto it.

"So what happened to Jo?" Sam asked.

"It doesn't matter," Dean answered sheepishly.

"It might. I just told Ellen that she wasn't feeling well." Sam's head went back and he closed his eyes.

"Sam–"

"Don't, Dean. I'm still awake."

"Stay that way. Now, I have to go check on Jo. Don't you dare fall asleep on me while I'm gone."

"Keep talking to me and I won't."

"How does the leg feel?"

"Strangely numb," Sam responded as Dean got up and moved away. "How's your arm?"

"It's okay."

"Don't be like that," Sam muttered. "I can always tell when you're lying. It's broken, Dean. You have to get it set."

"You can set it."

"I can't even hold my head up. You want me messing with the bones in your arm?"

Dean shrugged, even though Sam couldn't see the motion. "I trust you."

"You're an idiot."

Dean stopped and turned to glare at his brother.

" . . . And I mean that in the nicest, most respectful way possible," Sam added with a grin as he imagined Dean was giving him a dirty look.

"I'll bet."

Sam kept smiling for a few seconds, listening to the soft sounds coming from the bathroom as Dean tried to wake Jo and bring her out. With his head back, Sam opened his eyes and found himself looking at the devil's trap that he had drawn on the ceiling with his own blood. It made him shudder to think about it now. And then he wanted to be sitting somewhere else – anywhere where he couldn't see it. With an effort that almost overpowered his slowly draining strength, he got to his feet and took one step before something very odd happened. It was almost as though an invisible wall had been erected around him. He put his hand out and was unable to push it past a certain point. Lifting his head again, he found himself at the edge of the devil's trap . . . stuck inside.

"Dean?" he called shakily.

"Just a minute, Sam," came the response from the bathroom.

"NOW, Dean," he said, desperation creeping into his voice.

"What?" the elder Winchester asked, coming around the corner with an annoyed expression on his face. "Please tell me you called me out here for something besides just to brag that you're standing on your own."

"I can't move forward, Dean," Sam said in a small voice that sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

"What do you mean, you can't . . ." He trailed off as his brother's eyes roamed upward, and his gaze went up, too. He took in the bloody devil's trap, swallowed nervously, and locked eyes with Sam.

"I thought my brother exorcised you," he said.

Sam threw out his arms. "It's me. I don't feel anything, Dean. Nothing. I swear it's just me in this body."

Dean nodded as though all of this made perfect sense, then plastered his characteristic grin on his face. "Well, you might as well relax on the couch for a while, Geek Boy. I'll bring you your laptop and you can research this. We'll figure something out. Until then, a little enforced inactivity is not a bad thing."

Sam looked sick, but managed to sit back down on the couch. Then he made one horrible mistake.

He said aloud, "This day cannot possibly get any worse."

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Note: Is everyone having as many problems posting as I am? I don't know what the deal is. I had to kind of cheat to get this up. Anyway, thanks for the reviews! You guys make my day!