Author's Note: Nothing much in here but brotherly love. OH I CORRECTED THE BLOOD TYPES! MY FAULT THERE! But yay I got more reviews and favorites and follows and yay! But yes, in this chapter, I kinda give away the plot of the rest of the story...but hey it'd come anyway! This one is a wee bit shorter, but the next chapter I have fun with! And go a little AU...but we meet someone special! Oh, and if you're ever bored, I have some oneshots who could use some attention!
SHOUT OUT TO Sarahhh3, and her story Mark of Cain. Basic plot, Sam getting hurt by Dean, but a million times better than this!
"Sammy?" Dean's voice was filled with relief. Sammy. Sammy. He's speaking. He's speaking and everything will be okay.
"Dean...you're here." Sam sounded a little shocked, but in a good way, alongside happy. The raspiness of his weak voice could neither temper nor cloak either emotion. Dean began to choose his words carefully.
"Yeah, of course, Sammy. Where else would I be?" It was at moments like these Dean wished Sam could be a little less cut-to-the-point, but sometimes it was a blessing. Everything is either a blessing or a curse, said some wise dude whose name I forgot.
"Well...you stabbed me twice. I didn't really think you'd be here. But..." Sam winced, as if experiencing a headache as he tried to sit up. "you did call for an ambulance. So...I guess we can forgive and forget?" Somehow, Dean knew that no matter how much they tried, this would always block them. Dean had stabbed his own brother, very similar to how Lucifer had stabbed Gabriel, how could they forget that? Maybe if we get Alzheimers. Maybe.
"Sammy, I am never gonna let myself forget I stabbed you. Never." Dean answered Sam truthfully. Sam blinked.
"Dean...that wasn't you. I know it wasn't. You had little flecks of red in your eyes, and the look in your eyes...no way. You were possessed by it, or something." Even after getting stabbed, through two surgeries, and Dean was fairly sure it hurt like hell to stay awake, Sam was spouting theories. Yup, definitely my brother. A Winchester for sure.
"Okay. So the Mark can possess me. Great." Well, if someone could direct me to the amputation area...
"Only while you're holding the First Blade, and I refuse to allow that to happen. We're also giving the Mark and the Blade back to Cain."
"I agree with all that, but how can we get Cain to take it back? He wants to die."
"Dean, does the Blade and the Mark make him immortal? He could kill himself with the Blade." Sam's lawyer side came out. Dean smiled.
"Yeah, Sammy, we'll pay him a visit when you're in tip-top shape, alright?" Dean noticed Sam didn't protest to 'Sammy'. Then he noticed Sam had fallen asleep. Dean smiled.
...
They fell into a routine of sorts. Dean brought some books over from the bunker -with nothing supernatural, lest they be labeled Satanic- and Sam read those while Dean was sleeping, and Dean only ever slept when Sam ordered him to. Finally, Sam was able to be discharged, much to their delight. After one of their numerous false credit cards paid for the bill, Dean was allowed to take Sam home. The Winchester pride got a little in the way. When Sam was ducking into the Impala, Dean fussed over him and told him to go very slowly. Sam gave him a trademark bitchface.
"Dean, I don't need to go in slow motion. Besides, I know how to not open up my stitches. Unlike someone I know." But Sam did duck in slower, and Dean shut the door after him. After climbing in himself, Dean decided to tell Sam their schedule.
"Okay, I'm gonna take us home. You will stay in your bed unless going to the bathroom, and I'll bring you books and your computer. No arguments." Sam completely disregarded that last statement.
"Oh my god, Dean. I don't need to be babied! I won't run a mile, but no way in hell am I just staying in bed all day!"
"Fine. You may walk around as long as the floor does not decrease or increase with steps. I don't want you falling or tripping." Dean hoped the fancy wording would soothe Sam. He was rewarded -cursed would be more accurate- with another bitchface and eye roll.
"Dean, no. I'll walk around the bunker if I want. But I will stay out of the kitchen whenever you're cooking." Sam grinned at that last jibe as the Impala pulled out of the parking lot.
"Hey, I'm a world-class chef!" Dean retorted, earning him an eyebrow raise from Sam.
"Yeah...I almost caught on fire because of the oil that was everywhere. Twice."
"Oil is...messy. Fine. I won't cook. When we get to the base, you're taking your medicine with no buts." Dean ordered.
"Yes, sir." Sam sarcastically responded. Dean smiled for what he planned to say next.
"Bitch,"
"Jerk."