Hello, everyone! Wanted to say a BIG thanks to those of you who replied to this story (brynerose, kirabaros, monkeymuse, and valleri68) it really motivates me to continue writing. Also, just wanted to say that I'll probably update either every day, or every other day, so you won't have to wait too long. And so, here's the third chapter.
R&R please!
Disclaimer: Still don't own them. Tragic, really.
Disjointed images filtered slowly through Dean's mind, relentlessly dragging him towards the light of consciousness. They played over his eyelids like a movie with bad reception, jumping from one image to the other.
A red bird erupting from the bushes in a flurry of bright red feathers. The color of blood. A bloody grin. A twisted smile on a twisted face. Teeth sharp as metal. Claws sharp as metal. Metal claws. Ripping. Tearing. Mutilating.
With the images came sensations, emotions; slowly but surely pulling the shattered pieces of his conscious back together. Surprise. Anger. Pain (and a helluva lot of it too). Worry. Fear. Concern... wait, worry? Concern?
Dean's broken conscious struggled to bring an image to the emotions, and finally it clicked in place. It was the last piece to the puzzle of his conscious. The last thought on Dean's mind before he lost consciousness was the first thought on Dean's mind when he returned to it. Sammy.
Dean shot up from the ground, his little brother's name exploding from his lips. Rather, that's how it played out in his mind, but in reality all that happened was a twitch of his fingers. Instead of shouting out his brother's name, a low moan escaped, greater speech a seemingly impossible task at the moment.
Panic started to dig its frigid claws into him, and he tried pushing up again, jostling his shredded chest with the movement. His arms buckled at his side, dropping him back to the ground and causing another moan of pain to push past his lips. Excruciating pain danced along his chest and abdomen like fire, burning and stinging his wounded flesh. His fragile hold on consciousness threatened to drop out from under him again, the darkness of sleep encroaching on the edges of his vision.
The rational part of his mind reminded him that he wouldn't be of any help to Sam if he passed out again, so he stopped his attempts at sitting up and relaxed back into the cold ground. Deciding to take things slower this time, he focused instead on just opening his eyes, but even something as simple as that was suddenly ten times harder than it should be. After what felt like hours of trying fruitlessly to pry his eyelids open - Dean was thoroughly convinced that they weighed fifty pounds each – he gave up with a sigh and decided that taking a rest sounded good right about then. The weightlessness of sleep was just starting to pull him away when a small, weak groan sounded from off to his right.
Dean knew that sound. He heard it once before when Sammy was just fifteen and had gotten clawed up by a werewolf. It was Sam's I'm-in-a-shitload-of-pain-right-now groan. The sound Dean promised Sam wouldn't ever have to make again.
Sorry, Sammy, for breaking that promise.
It was also the sound that gave Dean the extra strength he needed to lift his eyelids. Darkness greeted his vision once again, and for a second he wasn't sure if he had opened his eyes, but the sparkle of stars in the distance told him otherwise. Shit. It was night out, which meant that the Mngwa was just going to be that much harder to kill, or escape.
Another soft, pain-filled groan had Dean struggling to get his uncooperative vocal chords under control, but apparently opening his eyes was all his body could deal with at the moment. Another groan followed after the second, and Dean could tell that his brother was clawing his way towards wakefulness. Come on, Sam. Dean silently cheered his brother on.
Sam's breath hitched in pain, and Dean knew that Sam was conscious once again. Maybe he should think it was weird that he could determine whether Sam was awake or not due to his breathing pattern, but he wasn't. Not in the slightest. Years spent lying awake at night, listening to make sure little Sammy didn't have another nightmare, was enough to have him relying on Sam's breathing alone to alert him to his little brother's condition.
"De'n?" Sam's slurred voice carried over from where he lay on the ground, unknowingly mirroring Dean's own position.
That's my boy. Dean praised in his mind, wishing he could get his paralyzed voice to work. To reassure his brother that he was here, that he wasn't alone. If only telepathy was real, he could communicate with Sam through his mind, but seeing as it wasn't, he settled on grunting in reply instead. A cough followed Sam's half-consciously slurred question, and a quiet curse let him know Sam was gathering his thoughts together.
"Ugh…One sec, De'n. Hold on…one sec" A rustling sound followed by another louder, clearer curse had Dean imagining exactly what it was his brother was doing. He tracked Sam's movements in his mind based off the sounds he heard coming from his direction. The rustling was Sam's clothes, and the curse would be from Sam pulling his wounds as he stood up. A soft thump and a scuffing noise told him his brother was staggering over towards him, ignoring his own wounds. Dean growled his displeasure, trying to convey to Sam just what he thought of his idea.
"S'okay, Dean. I'm okay." Came Sam's soft reply, closer now to where Dean lie.
A thud sounded from right beside his ear a second before Sam came into his line of vision looking exhausted and in pain. His little brother was on his knees kneeling next to him, slouched over in pain, his face set in a grimace as he looked over what surely resembled ground meat. Hell, you could package Dean up and sell him for human hamburger meat with the way he probably looked now. The Mngwa would most likely enjoy that idea.
"God, Dean, you're a mess. There's so much blood…okay. Okay, don't worry. Don't worry. I've got this. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay." Muttered Sam, and Dean was pretty sure he wasn't even aware he was repeating himself.
He watched in confusion as Sam started to pull his own shirt off, tugging violently when his blood kept it glued to his skin. When he finally managed to get the shirt off of him, fresh blood was dripping down his chest, the wounds having opened again due to his careless pulling. He frowned when Sam started to lean over him, not sure where Sam was going with this until he felt Sam's shaking hands tug him up so that his chest was suspended above the ground. He growled again low in his throat. Stop it, Sam.
"Shut up, Dean. I need to cover your wounds, and since we don't have any gauze with us, well then I have to use my shirt. Don't complain. I'll be fine." Sam said, glancing up at Dean's unhappy face.
Dean's eyes narrowed. Cover your own wounds first, Bitch.
Sam huffed a pained laugh. "If I do that, then there won't be anything to use to cover yours, and these cuts are way worse than the one bite on my shoulder. I'm serious, Dean, I'll be fine. Worry about yourself for once, Jerk."
Dean rolled his eyes, hissing at the pain when Sam pulled the shirt around his chest and tied it tightly to staunch the sluggish flow of blood.
"Alright, man, I'm gonna have to carry you most of the way. We have seriously got to get out of here. I'm not sure why the Mngwa left us alive, but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Okay then, ready? This is going to hurt." Warned Sam as he grabbed one of Dean's arms in his hand, squeezing reassuringly before laying the pliant limb behind his neck. His other arm snaked around Dean's back to grab at the waistband of his jeans, tugging gently to make sure he had a good hold on the denim.
"You good?" Sam asked, hazel eyes searching Dean's green ones for any signs of hesitation, perfectly prepared to wait until he was ready.
Dean blinked. Just get us out of here, Sasquatch.
Sam's barked laughter was enough to have Dean's lips twitching upwards in a small smile, the most he could manage at the moment. "Alright, alright. Sorry about this Dean." Sam's small apology was his only warning before they were suddenly vertical. Gravity seemed to be working against him, and the only thing that kept him standing was Sam's hand grabbing his jeans, and his arm slung over Sam's shoulders, his forearm grasped tightly in Sam's other hand.
"It's alright, I've got you. I've got you, Dean." Sam pulled him closer, letting him lean his weight against Sam's side. It was an uncomfortable angle though, and it tugged at the slash marks marring his chest, causing blinding pain to surge up and take him under again. Sam's muttered reassurances followed him down, letting him know that he'd be there when Dean woke up.
()()()()SPN()()()()
Sam knew the instant that Dean was going to pass out, he saw Dean's face screw up in pain and saw his eyes flutter momentarily before dropping closed. It was the only forewarning he needed to adjust his hold on his brother so that they didn't both go crashing to the ground. Sam braced himself accordingly, but still staggered slightly when he was suddenly left supporting the entirety of his brother's dead weight.
Hefting Dean up higher against him, Sam pushed past the throbbing pain in his shoulder, ignored the blood streaming down his bare chest, and determinedly pushed forward. He kept his ears alert for every sound that might seem out of place, and his eyes alert for every small movement around them that might indicate the Mngwa's return.
()()()()SPN()()()()
An hour passed of uneventful walking, and Sam was sure that his feet were only moving due to sheer stubbornness on his part. If he stopped for one second, he knew that his legs wouldn't be able to take one more step, so he kept walking, dragging Dean along next to him. His brother still showed no signs of waking, which only made it that much more difficult for Sam, but he knew his brother needed the rest, so he grinned and bore it.
Exhaustion was warring with pure stubbornness now though, and he wasn't so sure his stubborn streak was going to win this time. Several sleepless nights in a row were hard enough to deal with. That combined with a gaping wound in his shoulder? Well it was seriously dragging him down. He almost gave in to the exhaustion, his pace slowing noticeably, and the ground was looking more and more comfortable by the minute. The only thing that stopped him was a small groan from Dean as his eyes blinked open again.
Sam cut his eyes down towards him, meeting Dean's searching gaze with a reassuring one of his own. He saw Dean's eyes narrow minutely, dragging up and down Sam's battered and tired body. Sam smiled softly at him.
"I'm fine, Dean. Really. Just a little tired is all, but I've been walking for a while now, so we're probably close to the Impala by now. I can rest once we get back to the motel and after I sew you up."
Dean's green eyes darkened, and he lifted his head to stare pointedly at Sam.
"Okay, okay. Calm down. I'll bandage myself up too, geez." Dean dropped his head again, satisfied. Several moments passed in silence as Sam continued to stagger forwards before Dean gathered up enough strength to take some of the weight off of Sam.
"Careful, Dean. I don't want you pulling those cuts open again. Just let me handle this." Sam said, concern lacing his voice.
A grunt was his only reply, and Sam wondered how Dean managed to convey so much through just a noise.
"I know you can do it, Dean. I'm not saying you can't. I'm just telling you to let me do this for once." Dean huffed, but complied, and fell back against Sam's side.
A break in the trees had both brothers sighing in relief, the dark black of the road standing out against the greens of the forest. Picking up his pace, Sam walked as fast as he could out of the darkness of the forest and onto the open asphalt of the old road. Dean audibly groaned in appreciation at the sight of the 1967 Chevy Impala, and even Sam had to admit the sight of the car brought a strong feeling of relief surging through his veins.
"Dean. Tell me where the keys are before I break the window to unlock the car. I have had enough of this creepy ass forest. If we don't ever come back here it would be too soon." Sam said, a tinge of hysteria entering his voice.
Dean raised an eyebrow in amusement and nodded his head towards his back pants pocket. Keeping a firm grip on Dean's forearm, he let go of Dean's jeans with his other hand and quickly reached into Dean's pocket, pulling the keys out triumphantly.
Moving them carefully over to the car, Sam let Dean use the Impala as support as he unlocked the car. Throwing the door open, he turned and grabbed Dean once again, carefully lowering him down into the leather seat. Once Dean was seated and belted in, Sam shut the door and all but ran over to the driver's side, tugging the door open and jumping into the car with a speed he shouldn't have been able to move at with his wounds.
Not wasting any time, he gunned the engine, ACDC's Back in Black blasting from the speakers, before executing a perfect U-turn and speeding back the way they came, leaving the dark forest in his rear-view mirror.
()()()()SPN()()()()
Sam gently wiped at the congealed blood coating his brother's chest, a pained groan breaking the tense silence. They were back in their motel room, Dean laid out on one of the beds as Sam wiped away the crimson blood covering his chest. The ugly purple sheets were slowly turning a dark red, and while it was a better color, it made Sam wish the damn sheets were still purple, because then the red would be back in his brother's body where it belonged.
"I know, Dean. Just once more. The pain meds should kick in soon. Then I'll start on the stitches."
Sam ran the holy water covered wash cloth down Dean's chest one more time, cringing with sympathy as the wounds bubbled and fizzed. Pouring the last of the holy water over Dean's chest, straight from the canteen this time, Sam exchanged the wet wash cloth for a dry one, sopping up the red water that ran down Dean's chest to soak into the sheets.
The fact that Dean didn't make a sound the entire time had Sam looking up worriedly, but he relaxed when he met Dean's dilated eyes, the pain meds having finally kicked in.
"Alright then, Dean. I'm gonna start on the stitches now. Feel free to pass out man, because it isn't gonna be pleasant."
The corner of Dean's mouth turned up, and he continued to stare at Sam.
"Okay, fine then. But you don't get to complain about the pain then, Dean." Dean's mouth turned up in a full smile this time, his green eyes gleaming at Sam. "Don't lie, Dean. You cried like a baby when Dad had to stitch you up after that werewolf hunt. I know you hate them."
The smile instantly fell off Dean's mouth, morphing into a scowl, and Sam knew he had Dean beat. Looking up from where he tied off the first stitch in his flesh, Sam tried to meet Dean's eyes, but he was refusing to look at Sam, instead staring at the ceiling like he could incinerate it with his mind. Sighing in reluctant acceptance at the fact Dean wasn't going to pass out, Sam started sewing Dean's torn flesh back together.
45 stitches later, Dean was still stubbornly conscious, glaring at Sam like he was to blame for the tears that involuntarily leaked from the corners of his eyes.
"Look, man, I told you it would hurt. You could have passed out if you wanted to, but nooo. You don't have anything to prove you know." Sam said, staring at Dean's tear streaked face from the chair he sat in across the room, still shirtless. He was starting to feel hot, but put it off as stress.
Dean narrowed his eyes at him, green orbs darting from Sam's face to his wounded shoulder and back again.
"I'll fix it later, Dean. Just go to sleep. I'm not moving until then. You need the rest. Hell, you just got clawed up by a supersized leopard. I think you need the beauty sleep, Dean. Don't want to scar now do you? Only so many chicks are gonna think it's hot to have four vertical claw marks running from your throat to your di-"
Dean groaned loudly, cutting him off mid-sentence. Sam laughed, dropping the subject.
"Yeah, love you too big brother."
It didn't even occur to him that Dean hadn't spoken a single word since they woke up in the forest. Maybe he should think it was weird that he was able to tell exactly what Dean said just from a series of grunts, groans, and growls, but he didn't. Not in the slightest.
Yeah so this chapter was all fluff and H/C, but it's what I love best about the brothers, their relationship (not in a wincest-y way). So there you have it for chap. 3. Let me know what you think ~ Thorn