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Benny hates it when he gets there only to find that Sam is bleeding.
It’s not so bad this time, two separate cuts, and the blood flow is already slowing. But he hates being too late, arriving only in time to find the damage already done.
Sam presses his jacket into the worst of the two wounds while the corpse burns in its grave, and Benny rolls up Sam’s pant leg to look at the other one. “Needs stitches,” he grunts, and Sam nods.
“This one too,” Sam says. “Not too bad. Can wait.”
Benny privately disagrees with that but he also knows that Sam knows what he’s doing. He’s been at this for a long time.
So they wait for the body to burn out and they fill in the grave before climbing into the car with Dean and driving back to the motel.
Benny doesn’t waste anymore time. “Stitches,” he says shortly, gathering up the necessary materials as Sam strips off his clothes.
Benny starts with the one on Sam’s stomach, cleaning it with alcohol before handing the bottle to Sam, letting him take a few swigs before sterilizing the needle and beginning to stitch.
“How does it not bother you?” Sam asks as Benny finishes the row and moves down to look at the cut on Sam’s leg. “The blood, I mean.”
Benny shrugs and takes the bottle to clean the wound. “I adapted. Useful skill, to know when you’re hurt. I have control, Sam.”
“I know,” Sam says. “But you don’t even seem bothered.”
“I care about you more than my next meal, Sam,” Benny says, sterilizing the needle and threading it. “Now hold still.”
Sam does, and Benny finishes quickly, stowing the materials once more once he judges his work to be adequate.
“Done,” he says. “Gonna go to the vending machine, get you a drink. You need it, Sugar.”
He returns with a juice that Sam accepts gratefully, slowly sipping it as Benny ambles around, securing the room for the night, double and triple-checking everything.
Sam eventually reaches out an arm. “Come here,” he says. “Relax. It’s over.”
Benny comes and sits beside Sam. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. Don’t like smelling your blood like that.”
“Occupational hazard,” Sam says. “Besides, I have you here to stitch me back up, right?”
“You know you do,” Benny says. “Always, Sugar.”
“Then I’ll be fine,” Sam says, snuggling closer to Benny, as if the conversation is over. Benny supposes it must be, because that’s all there is to it, really; Sam will get hurt, and Benny will help hold him together time and time again, because he loves him far too much to do anything else.