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Damn it.
Damn it all to hell.
Why him? Why was it always him? Why was it that every time a monster found itself in a bind their eyes immediately jumped to the youngest Winchester?
Sam was still recovering from an altercation with one of Crowley's goons that had cut it far too close for anyone's comfort. He'd attempted many times to convince his elder brother that he was up for another case, of course, all of these protests seemingly fell short of Dean’s ears as Sam was forced to lie down and take it easy for a few days until Cas could arrive and heal him. The eldest Winchester was scarily aware of the messy ‘motel sewing kit stitches’ that were holding his little brother together and had hastily concluded that there was no way in hell Sam would be allowed off the couch until Cas could lay his freaky angel mojo on him and get him fixed up.
The motel was fine, an average Winchester pad, decent enough to hide out in for a few days while awaiting a supernatural patch up for an oversized little brother. There was a flatscreen with access to a whopping five channels, a small bare essentials kitchen nook with the usual espresso machine and microwave, not to mention enough free wifi to keep the kid happy for weeks- err, at least a day or two.
Dean had been contemplating whether or not to head down to the bar across the street to try and hustle up some cash, maybe then he could get the poor kid a proper heating pad as opposed to the microwaved rag the boy had been forced to put up with; though Dean supposed he hadn’t been complaining, Sam would’ve been thankful for a paper towel if it meant the pain in his back would ease. Given the coarseness of the motel’s washcloths, Dean was certain that the warm fabric was doing very little to help ease the pain his brother was experiencing. Not that Sam didn't deserve it. He'd brought this all on himself.
A pained moan came from the swaddled lump on the couch. “You good, Sammy?” Dean spoke as he made his way towards his brother, carefully eyeing the younger man for any sign of distress.
“I’m good, Dean.” Sam sighed, maneuvering his back into an upright position, careful to not strain his stitches as he forced his body upwards against the arm of the dingy sofa.
Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s feeble attempts and offered him a hand, helping the injured hunter into an upright position. “Yeah, you’re just awesome.” Dean snickered, a light seriousness in his voice. “That demon did a number on ya, huh?” Taking a seat on the couch, Dean tossed Sam a room temp beer that the younger man had earlier refused, firmly grasping a beer of his own in his opposite hand. Sam muttered a quiet thanks as he unscrewed the top and began sipping the flat liquid; wincing as he went, feeling sharp pain striking him once he swallowed.
Why strangled? Always strangled. Sam’s neck was covered in finger-shaped marks, leaving red and purple bruises scattered across his upper-body. Dean knew that his brother was in more pain than he was letting on. There was no way he was fine, not with his current diagnosis.
The full extent of Sam's injuries was still unknown to Dean who'd only been able to catalog the palpable broken ribs and concussion. The obvious wounds being irrelevant as they were the least of their worries. The bruising on Sam's back seemed to indicate a larger problem than the run of the mill soreness.
The boys drifted into a comfortable silence as they drank, their eyes directed at the television. It had been like this for a few days now, the boys avoiding conversation as to avoid confronting their problems. Because yeah, Dean was pissed, no amount of apologies could take that anger away. Sam had done everything he could to ease some of that rage, yet he fell short every time.
Dean knew it wasn't right; it wasn't right for him to blame Sam for something he hadn't yet gathered the details on. Something that he had very little context behind. Still, that voice, that nagging voice in the back of Dean's mind told him to keep going, that it was okay.
Sam released a sigh, resting his head on the cushion seated behind him. "Are ya gonna say anything, Dean?"
The question was hastily shrugged off as Dean merely muttered a string of incoherent curses under his breath. "Not now, Sammy."
"Why?"
"Because I said so. You're hurt, you need to rest, not sit here arguing with me."
The words stabbed sharply at Sam's emotions, only serving to add to his frustration. "How can I sleep with you practically seething every time I turn my back?"
"Quit being dramatic Sam." Dean quipped, getting up from his place on the couch pointing his empty bottle at Sam. "Another beer?" Dean paused at the pitiful expression on his brother's face. "Look, Sam, I don't blame you. Alright? I mean sure, I'm a little curious as to what the hell compelled you to sneak out of the motel room at two AM. Huh? Or how about the fact that you went off on a hunt on your own without telling me you were even leaving. God forbid you have told me where you were headed."
Sam stammered, his features giving way for the shame that was beginning to appear. "It wasn't like that."
"Oh really?" Dean asked sarcastically, his eyebrows raised in question. "Then fill me in Sam, what was it like? Because it seems to me like you left... again."
Sam frowned at his brother's insinuation. "They threatened- you." Sam peeked at his brother from behind fallen bangs. Dean's face was full of confusion and fear, Sam watched as he contemplated his words.
"Who?" Dean spoke, finally, scrubbing an exasperated hand down his face.
Sam's head shook in denial, not wanting to explain any further. "Who, Sam?" Dean pressed this time more firm.
Sam's voice was shaky and small, shifting his weight back and forth he continued. "I don't know, some demon. They were working for Crowley."
"And what? You just went with them? You just left?"
"She was threatening you, Dean! Are you telling me you wouldn't have done the same for me?"
"I wouldn't have been that stupid, I wouldn't have walked off with a Demon because of some empty threat."
"Empty? How do you know that Dean? How could I have been sure? How could I have ever taken that risk?"
Dean frowned thoughtfully. "You're right Sam. I would have done the same. It's just- I wish you would have told me sooner."
Sam's eyes were back to the floor.
"I was embarrassed."
Dean's brows knitted in confusion and now it was his turn to ask why.
"Because I knew you would have gotten out of it, you would have found a way."
At that, the eldest hunter stretched a hand to sit on his brother's shoulder. "Listen to me Sammy, you didn't mess up. You did everything I would have done and then some. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, okay? But now you need to get some sleep, you look like shit."
Two puppy dog eyes found their way to Dean's as Sam let out a relieved breath. He released a pained yawn and laid back further into the couch. "Get some rest, Sammy. You'll feel better in the morning."
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Fin.
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