So I rewrote this chapter to make it as believable as possible and still follow the storyline I had in mind. So hope you like!
4.
Dean was getting desperate when nothing seemed to get his brother to breathe again and his heart to beat. He put his cheek close to Sam lips to check for breath without results before covering his little brother's mouth with his own, breathing for him and then suddenly felt the body under him starting to convulse. He pulled away and quickly helped Sam onto his side as water spilled out onto the ground. He kept his hand on the side of Sams neck, not the amount of blood running from his head and nose.
"That's it," Dean encouraged, patting Sam's back hard. Sam coughed and moaned as he spit out the remaining water and blood Dean hoped was simply because of the nosebleed.
Sam tried to sit up, but just ended up falling back against Dean's chest. Dean was a bit surprised at that this Sam even let himself do that, but he was still the big brother so he held him supportively to his chest. He finally gave the wounds on Sam's chest some attention and winced at some of the nasty cuts and bruises on his torso. His chest was heaving and a pain filled gasp followed every strained breath.
"Think my shoulder... m-might be out of it's socket," Sam groaned and winced when he tried to look down at this shoulder. His whole arm looked pretty nasty. Dean looked at the arm and touched it carefully.
"It'll be okay. Nothing we can't fix. Don't think your hand is broken, but it's bleeding pretty bad," Dean explained. It wasn't until a little nagging voice in the back of his head that Dean looked up and realized the kelpie was still there, staring at them.
"Wh...what'cha do?" Sam mumbled, head rolling on Dean's shoulder, but he had clearly spotted the creature,
"Tame it?"he asked, his eyebrow lifting at the thought. His head wound was bleeding pretty bad and Dean couldn't really find anything to hold against it but the sleeve of his shirt. Sam's long legs looked probably worse under the cloth of his pants, but he had shifted them so they weren't broken.
"I kinda fought it," Dean explained, holding his hand pressed to Sam's head wound and efficiently keeping his head to his shoulder while his other hand laid protectively on Sam's chest,
"I gotta call for ambulance," he shook his head when he realized he still hadn't done that.
"No. Don't," Sam tried to grab Dean's phone from him to no use.
"Dude, try 'yes'. I just had to do CPR on you, you must have a number of broken ribs and who knows what else?" Dean argued and was about to dial the number when Sam elbowed him in the ribs weakly,
"We're fed's remember? They'll let the FBI know one of their supposed men got hurt on job," Sam reminded Dean, leaning heavily on his brother's supporting arm. Dean cursed, but put his free and blood covered hand on Sam's shoulder,
"We can't just leave you unchecked, man. You don't have a say in this," Dean told him. Sam realized Dean wouldn't let this go so he came up with another suggestion,
"Home visting doctor. Maybe we can find one," Sam suggested tiredly, trying to get up on his feet on his own power, but paled in record time so Dean pushed him back down easily.
"Can tell him we don't want to scare the locals and give the doc the number to Bobby if he decide he need to talk to our boss."
Dean had to admit that sounded do-able. The locals might freak when not even feds seemed able to handle the job and Bobby's the most convincing fake fed of them all.
"Fine," he agreed, huffing in annoyance when Sam again tried to get up,
"Stay the hell down, Sam. If we're not going to the hospital we're staying here till you calm your damn breathing."
"Broken ribs, Dean. That might take a while!" Sam hissed, but gave up again when it hurt so much to move. They were quiet for a few moments before Dean spoke up again.
"I don't understand how letting someone help you is such a bad thing. How is that showing weakness when you would have been dead if it wasn't for me?" Dean asked, grimacing at the amount of blood soaking his sleeve.
"It shouldn't be necessary," Sam told him quietly. The brothers looked at the kelpie as it snorted like any other horse and ran into the water and out of sight.
"It's not about not accepting help when hurt. Not really," Sam quietly continued,
"Once I took an iron bar to my head. Left me seeing double in the middle of a fight... to put it mildly, but I survived it because Samuel got me out," he said, sounding so annoyed and disappointed, which made Dean want to shake him up and stop acting like this. To tell him it's okay.
"Is that so," Dean frowned. It was strange to hear him acknowledging that he does fail,
"Kinda seems necessary now."
"Because I messed up!" Sam grumbled and tried to sit up very carefully with Dean's help, the blood running from his nose had slowed by now,
"My head is much clearer then others. I'm able to focus better..." Sam trailed off.
"Which is why you think help should be unnecessary. You care for nothing so you should be able to think clear long enough to get a job done," Dean finished for him, understanding where he was going.
"Well look at that," Sam sat hunched over, but looked at Dean through the bloodied and wet strands of his hair,
"We have a breakthrough."
"It's messed up, Sam. You're thinking clearer because you're missing something important," Dean argued. He knew it was useless. He would never really understand it and neither would Sam because he simply couldn't,
"You need to have some compassion for the people you're supposed to help," it took a moment for Sam to answer, as if to figure out an answer or whether to punch Dean for being so difficult. Dean held his hand to Sam's shoulder to keep him from face planting the grass
"I know my enemies," Sam argued.
"But what keeps you from turning on me?" Dean raised his voice and then bit his lip when he realized he had said that out loud. Sam sighed and Dean knew it was out of annoyance, but for his big brother Sam looked at him with false sympathy.
"I already told you," he said quietly,
"I might not feel it, but I know who not to kill. I have no wish to kill you... or the damn pope for that matter because we're not enemies. But if a life has to be put down to save another then so be it," he said coldly and in a way that made it clear he was done talking.
"Being a cold hearted soulless bastard might make you a better hunter, but it doesn't make you invincible, Sam. You obviously still get hurt."
"They're still supernatural creatures. They still have more strength then me," Sam admitted and Dean looked at him at that, surprised at the confession,
"Alright then," Dean huffed and got this feet. He offered his hand to Sam, but was ignored as Sam got his coltish legs under him. They pretty much batted at each other hands until Dean grabbed the back of Sam's jacket to help him out. That way Sam couldn't get him off either because of the pain his ribs was causing every movement.
"Let's head back then," Sam said, looking a bit awkward there he stood, blood covering half his face, hand clutching at his chest, one foot touching the ground a little more carefully, but his face dead set on ignoring it all. Dean took Sam's unhurt arm and started slowly on the way back to the motel.
Once they reached the motel, Dean pushed Sam into the room, gently of course. He sat Sam down on the bed before heading over to the laptop so he could find the nearest doctor. Meanwhile Sam carefully shrugged his jacket cautiously off his shoulders and used the sleeve of his shirt to press against his nose. His wounded arm was aching pretty badly by now and the bloody and grim looking hand laid limply on his lap.
"Did you ruin my shirt?" he asked quietly as if he noticed that for the first time.
"CPR, Sammy!" Dean glared at him,
"Life before shirt," he turned back to the laptop and gave a little 'yes!' when he found a phone number. He picked up his mobile and headed into the bathroom to make the call.
TBC...
So yeah, not going to the hospital isn't very likely, but that's kind of the point. It's soulless Sam we're dealing with here so bear with me, m'kay?