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“Sam! Look out!”
Dean tried to warn Sam about the ghost that appeared right beside him, but was too late. Dean could only watch as the ghost launched his brother through the air. Sam was slammed into a tree back first with a sickening crunch. Sam slumped to the ground. Dean wanted to rush over and make sure his brother was okay, or at least breathing, but the ghost was still there in the graveyard and it’s attention would soon be on Dean.
Dean fired rock salt at the ghost, dissipating it, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. The spirit was surprisingly powerful and the rock salt wasn’t banishing this ghost for very long. Dean seized the brief moment to pour a healthy amount of salt and fuel onto the remains of the poor bastard and lit them up with an entire book of matches. The spirit returned only to engulf in flames 2 feet in front of Dean. Dean jumped back, keeping out of reach of the flames. When the ghost was finally done roasting, Dean scrambled towards Sam who was just standing up.
“Hey, little brother. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. I don’t even think I hit my head.”
“Awesome, we can pick up a six pack on the way back to the motel and get some well deserved relaxation with the Die Hard marathon that’s on tonight.”
Dean began making his way towards the equipment duffels, clapping Sam on the shoulder as he passed. Sam let out a guttural yell so loud, Dean wouldn't be surprised if it woke the corpses surrounding them.
“Shit! I’m sorry Sam! I didn’t know!”
“Me either.” Sam panted out weakly. “My shoulder was sore, but I didn’t think anything of it. Clearly there is something more going on though. I think something might be broken. My shoulder blade maybe?”
“Alright, we’ll getcha slinged up and back to the motel. I’ll even let you have the good meds.”
Sam rolled his eyes, but it was only half-hearted. Sam actually really wanted those good drugs. This shit hurt. It hadn’t been bad until Dean smacked him. Asshole.
Dean gathered up the gear and made his way back to the car, Sam in tow. He dumped the gear in the trunk and pulled out the first aid kit, finding the sling before slamming the trunk lid closed.
“Plan still stands, ok Sammy? The only difference is you don’t get any beer.”
“Aw come on, Dean. I’m the one that got thrown around, I deserve a beer.”
“Exactly my point. You’re injured and there is no way I’m letting you drink alcohol if you’re gonna have the good pain meds in you.”
Dean had a point, but he didn’t want to admit it, so instead he remained silent and frowned as Dean slipped the sling into place.
“I mean if you really want a beer I can grab the advil for you.”
“No!” Sam yelled instantly. Dean laughed in response.
“That’s what I thought. Let’s get back. You can ice it while we watch McClane kick some ass.”