Work Text:
Ghouls are scavenger creatures that-
Ghouls are-
Ghouls-
This was getting ridiculous. Sam had read the same line over and over so many times that he was sure it was burned into his skull by now. He was trying to catch up on some research; with everything going on over the last few years, from Amara to the Mark of Cain to the literal apocalypse, Sam realised that his basic knowledge was getting... rusty. However, his plan of re-reviewing the basics wasn't going as planned as his brain was so overtired he could barely think in a straight line anymore, let alone read.
Sam scrubbed a hand across his eyes, hand floating towards the cup of coffee on the desk before he stopped it to mentally argue with himself again; sleep or more research? It ended just like it had the last eight times he had it. He grabbed the mug. As he lifted it to his mouth he heard a clattering behind him. He dropped his coffee and watched with horror as it smashed on the ground, the last drops that remained spilling on the floor of the bunker. He cursed. Screw sleep-deprived reflexes. Only then did it occur to him to look at what actually caused the noise. Looking behind him he was greeted by an all too familiar-
"Hello, moose" Crowley stood in the doorway, but Sam could instantly see something was off. He realised it was his cocky grin; it looked forced. Crowley continued "Why isn't squirrel here? Trouble in paradise?"
"No, he went out for a drive... Hang on, how do you know he's not here?" Sam asked
"Word of advice, moose. Check on your brother" And with that, Crowley disappeared. Okay, now Sam was freaking out. Stumbling up the stairs and out of the bunker faster than his weary legs could cooperate, Sam instantly spotted Dean. He was crumpled painfully on the ground, blood smeared across his abdomen.
"Oh God, Dean. Hey buddy, hey," Sam cupped Dean's face and was relieved when he saw his brother's eyes flutter open "Hey Dean, that's it, that good. What happened to you, man?"
"R-uhh" Dean crackled, before clearing his throat and trying again "R-rouge vampire. I killed it's wife a few towns back. Turns out it held a grudge. Nothing I couldn't handle, Sammy"
Sam didn't miss the waver in Dean's voice. The vampire had messed him up bad. 'Nothing I couldn't handle' his ass. Pulling Dean's arm over his shoulder, all traces of his sleepiness gone now, Sam pulled Dean through the door and into the bunker. Dean was tough, he would be fine. It was just lucky Crowley told him.
---
Sam finished stitching Dean's wounds and was just out of the room to get a fresh bandage when Crowley appeared in the hallway.
"How's my favourite flannel pile doing in there?" Crowley phrased it as a sarcastic quip, but Sam could hear the genuine concerned question in there
"Dean's fine, he's had worse. By the way-" Sam said quickly before Crowley had a chance to disappear again "Since when do you care so much about Dean's welfare? I mean, you could've just left him to die but you didn't. You told me. Why?"
"What would happen to my great Winchesterly bromance if Dean died, hm?" Crowley said jokingly. Sam raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, so he reluctantly added "Maybe I have a soft spot for squirrel, shoot me. Don't tell him I said that"
Before Sam could load up a snarky comeback, or even a thank you, Crowley was gone. Sam grabbed the stuff he needed from the med-kit and went back to his brother, but found him deeply asleep on the bed. Good, he probably needed it. At that moment Sam remembered that, in the drama of the moment, he'd completely forgotted how much he needed it too. Sam's eyes slammed shut, and his last thought before he drifted off was 'I am so telling Dean he said that'