***DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural or the Winchesters!**
"Destiny Inn, what a crappy name for a motel."
Sam rolls his eyes at his brother and sets down the bags. It's almost ten a.m. and they are all exhausted. Alex walks into the room last and closes the door gently with her foot. Carefully she puts down her things then perches on the end of one of the two twin beds. "You boys have a first aid kit?" Dean nods and heads out the door to get it from the trunk. "Hey Sam, tell Dean to grab some holy water too."
Sam steps farther away. "Why?"
She grimaces. "The hellhound left more effects than cracked ribs." She sees him move again. "No, I'm not possessed."
He hollers out the door to Dean who brings it in a moment later. Opening the kit, Dean grabs the wrap for Alex's ribs. "Ribs first?"
"I'm afraid not." She stands and turns around so the boys can see her blood soaked shirt.
Sam whistles. "Shit."
Dean's jaw drops for a moment. "Son of a bitch."
The next voice is a command from Dean. "Take this then lay on your stomach." Putting the wrap back he shakes two pills from a bottle. "Painkillers." Alex swallows them dry then, with a few curses, maneuvers onto the bed.
Sam cuts the back of her shirt open as Dean uncaps the holy water. He pours it in the angry red gashes and the wounds bubble and sizzle. Alex stifles a scream into the pillow until it stops. Dean finds the needle and cleans it with rubbing alcohol then burns it off. After threading the needle he looks at Sam. "Why don't you go try to find our friend Jack in the trunk?" He steps outside to find the bottle of Jack Daniels as Dean starts stitching her up. He returns and Dean pauses to let her take a few swings.
Almost an hour later the sewing is done. Dean helps her sit up to take another painkiller and to wrap her ribs. She doesn't protest as Sam helps her lie back down and pulls the thin sheet over her. In a few moments the drugs and sudden loss of adrenaline pull her under into sleep.
Dean puts away the kit while Same calls Bobby. "Hey, Bobby. We got her."
"She ok?" Sam can hear the traces of worry.
"Yeah, she's just banged up."
"Define banged up, Sam."
"A few cracked ribs. Her back got pretty clawed up by a hellhound that she was hunting."
"Did you treat it?"
"Yeah, Dean patched her up." Dean waves to get Sam's attention. He points and mouths the words "she's hot". Sam ignores him. "Don't worry, he was umm…professional."
Bobby rolls his eyes. "Just get her back here."
"No problem. See you soon."
Sam tosses the phone on the bed as Dean yawns. "Hey, Sammy, flip you for the bed." Sam pulls a coin out of his pocket. "Fine. Call it." He tosses it as Dean gives his answer.
"Heads." Sam glares as Dean grins. "Enjoy the chair." Dean empties his pockets onto the nightstand and crawls into the bed.
Sam huffs and plants himself in the chair by the window. "Jerk."
His brother chuckles. "Bitch."
He pulls his laptop out of his bag and boots it up. He begins searching for any new possible cases. Soon his eyes close and his head droops forward against his chest.