Work Text:
Sam let out a hiss of pain as he slowly lifted the right pant leg of his jeans, grimacing at the sight of the ugly wound on his shin. It was yellowish, smelled awful, and had horrible-smelling pus leaking out of it.
Ugh. Damn it.
He hadn't expected for it to get that bad so fast. He wanted to blame the fact that he hadn't taken care of it yet on his lack of sleep—and had thus simply forgotten—but he knew he that was far from the truth. The truth was that Dean and Ettie were already concerned enough for him as it was—what, with his constant nightmares of Jess—and he hadn't wanted to worry them more by revealing the injury to them. He'd been careless, that was all, and he could handle it by himself. He'd had far worse injuries compared to this one before.
He quickly yanked his pant leg back down once he heard the bathroom door open. Ettie—their younger sister—stopped short when she heard him suddenly hiss in pain. She narrowed her unnaturally bright red eyes at him, her choppy pixie-cut still damp from the shower.
"What was that."
"Huh? Nothing," Sam lied immediately, trying to sit in a way that seemed natural. But his wound began to protest, and he grunted as a sharp pain jolted up his leg. Ettie's expression only became more suspicious. Without a word, she crossed the motel room, towards the bed Sam was sitting in, and grabbed at his right pant leg.
Sam cried out in pain. "Ow! Damn it, Ettie!"
She ignored his cry, yanking the pant leg up harshly, then stopped as the wound was revealed. For a few moments, she didn't say a word.
Then, "How long have you had this."
Sam gritted his teeth, trying to yank his leg away. "Dude, it doesn't matter. Leave it alone—"
"It doesn't matter my ass. How long have you had it??"
"I said—ow! Let go!" he yanked his leg harder, and Ettie finally let go. But the force of the tug ended up sending another sharp flare of pain rocketing up his leg. He gasped, clutching his leg and hissing heavily through his teeth. It was definitely worse than he'd assumed.
Ettie stared at him, her expression unreadable. Ever since he'd reunited with her and Dean after Stanford, he'd begun to notice just how drastically she had changed. Including the fact that it was now very difficult to read her emotions, much more difficult than when they were younger.
After a few moments of silence, she finally spoke, quieter than he'd heard in a while, and almost as if she hadn't even meant to say it; "why don't you trust me anymore?"
"Wh-what?"
She grunted, shaking her head as if to snap out of it, pushing off the mattress and sitting in the bed across from him. "Nothing. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Amputate your leg for all I freakin' care."
Well, Sam's first thought was how much like Dean she sounded now. The second was the wave of guilt that suddenly washed over him at her sudden change in tone. "Hey—don't be like that. C'mon, talk to me."
"Oh, like you've been talking to me and Dean?" Ettie snapped snidely, and Sam's expression fell. He knew what she was talking about. But he still wasn't ready. And he really didn't want to see their reactions if he told them the whole truth about his nightmares. They already thought he was enough of a freak as it was.
"Dude," Sam's voice was soft as he looked at his sister pleadingly. "I—I'm sorry, alright? I know I've been worrying you and Dean, but I'm just… not ready to talk about it."
Ettie gave him a look. "And you expect me tell you what I'm feeling? Bullshit."
Sam sighed again, throwing up his hands, his irritation returning. "Fine. Don't tell me, then. But at least stop being such a brat about it."
Ettie stared at him with an unreadable expression. A heavy silence followed his sharp words. Then she huffed and lay down, facing away from him.
Sam exhaled in frustration as he leaned the back of his head against the wooden headboard. Unable to handle the silence, he grabbed their dad's journal and started to flip through it, eyebrows furrowed in irritation.
A few minutes of silence passed between them. Dean was still out looking for a good diner, although Sam wouldn't have been surprised if he was busy hitting on some waitress. He glanced at Ettie, who was still lying in the same position. She was so quiet that he would've assumed she'd fallen asleep if he hadn't known that she rarely slept without her sleeping pills.
He eventually started to feel guilty about what he'd said. All she'd done was show concern for him, and he'd responded by snapping at her and calling her a brat. Why? She didn't deserve that. He sighed, running a hand down his face. The words in the journal were no longer making much sense to him anyway, so he tossed it aside and stood, crossing the room.
He sat down on the edge of the other bed, next to where Ettie was lying. But she ignored him, keeping her gaze firmly locked on a stain on the wall across from them. After a moment of hesitation, Sam gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he told her after a moment, squeezing her shoulder to try to show he was being genuine. She jerked her shoulder away, and he quickly retracted his hand. But he persisted, "I know I shouldn't have acted like that. You weren't being a brat. For once."
He smiled slightly when he caught the corner of her mouth twitch. He reached his hand out once again, hesitating. But when she didn't flinch away, he relaxed, rubbing her shoulder encouragingly. "C'mon, sis. Can you tell me what you meant by that?"
Ettie didn't answer right away, and Sam's hopeful expression fell slightly at the hesitation. But he stayed anyway, waiting as he tried to read her expressions. She really had become very difficult to read.
Then, finally, "By what?"
"You know what," he sighed. "About… me not trusting you. Why would you think that? Of course I trust you."
Ettie finally looked at him, and there was such a sadness in her eyes that it made his heart ache and his guilt deepen. "Then why don't you talk to me anymore? You used to tell me everything growing up. But ever since you left for Stanford…" she faltered, gaze dropping.
Sam's throat tightened slightly. So this was what it was about? Of course it was. Why had he expected anything else? "I had to leave," he insisted for what felt like the millionth time. "You know I did. Dad said—"
"It's not about you going off to college, Sam," Ettie interrupted him, her frustration resurfacing. "I—I get why. I understand why you had to go. I'm glad, even, that you got to experience what normal is like for once!"
Sam was taken aback by her words. "What?"
Ettie pushed herself into a sitting position, angrily rubbing her eyes and giving him a hard look. "You know, for a nerd, you're really stupid, right? I'm not mad at you for going off to Stanford. Dean and I fought about it a bunch of times, because I was glad that you were able to go. I've never been anything but supportive of you, you freaking dumbass."
Sam stayed silent, staring at her with wide eyes. All these years, and he'd assumed that she was just as upset with him over Stanford as Dean was. Yet, somehow, that wasn't the case at all? He really was starting to feel like an idiot.
"What I'm mad about," Ettie continued, her voice becoming quieter. "Is that ever since you left… you—you stopped… telling me things. I tried to understand when you just… stopped emailing back. But even after we reunited, you didn't telling me what the hell was goin' on. How you were feeling. You… stopped talking to me. Like you used to. And… I'm worried about you."
She looked up at him, and for a moment Sam was reminded of the way she looked at him before, back when they were little. How she would look at him with those huge red eyes as he told her whatever came to his mind. The way she would cling onto his every word, no matter how angry or sad or scared he was. She'd listened. And he had trusted her, completely.
She had never given him a reason not to.
He felt his heart ache slightly as he realized that she was right. He hadn't been trusting her, not the way he had before. It was just that ever since they'd reunited, she'd seemed so… different, with her newly short haircut, vulgar vocabulary, and apathetic attitude, that he had almost assumed that… that he couldn't.
But now he could see that was far from the truth. Somehow—underneath this new, cold, hardened, angry hunter—was still his little sister. His little sister, who still loved him in the same way that she used to.
… He really had been stupid to assume the otherwise.
Sam's expression softened, and his throat tightened once more. He had to swallow hard against the lump before opening his mouth to speak. "I… I'm sorry."
She blinked up at him in… was that surprise?, but didn't say anything as he continued, "I didn't want you to worry. We have so much goin' on, and I didn't want to give you—or Dean—anything more to worry about. But you're right. I wasn't trusting you. And—that's not your fault. It was mine. I… I shouldn't have shut you out like I did. You've never given me a reason not to trust you."
He reached for her hand, gently squeezing it as he looked at her. "I was afraid you'd changed. And—you have. But… you're still my little sister, you know? And nothing could change that. And nothing should change the fact that I still trust you."
Ettie stared at him, her eyes glistening slightly behind her glasses. She looked down, swiping at her eyes and trying to seem as aloof as ever, but he could see through the wall a bit better now. He put his hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look at him again.
"And… I'll tell you everything soon. But you gotta trust me too," he prodded, carefully. "I'm also still your big brother. And no matter what, that won't ever change, I promise."
The tension in her shoulders seemed to ease out of her body at last. Then suddenly, without warning, she lunged into his arms, burying her face against his chest. Sam, taken by surprise, only hesitated for a second before returning her embrace. His chest felt full and warm as he pulled her close, resting his right cheek on top of her head and closing his eyes.
Her hugs still felt exactly the same.
When she finally pulled away, she looked so relieved that he couldn't help smiling. He chuckled as she took off her glasses to wipe away her tears, reaching out to tousle her hair affectionately. She grumbled playfully and swatted his hand away. Sam was glad that Ettie hadn't become too much like Dean after all. He liked that she didn't care about having "chick-flick" moments.
"Can… can you let me look at your leg now?" Ettie finally asked, and Sam sighed and nodded. He settled back against the bed, gingerly lifting up his pant leg so Ettie could see. She observed it with a frown for a few moments before standing, heading to the bathroom to wash her hands. Once her hands were clean, she helped Sam into the bathroom, arm wrapped around his torso. He put his injured leg into the tub as she started to carefully run warm water over it, washing around the area as best she could. Sam hissed as the water and soap stung the wound, but she continued to carefully clean it for a few more minutes until the amount of pus coming out of it was less overwhelming, and the smell was less bad.
She helped him back into the room and into the bed. He let out a hiss of pain as he sat, while she grabbed the first aid kit.
"Look at you. Looks like playing nurse growing up was actually helpful," he teased, voice strained. He ended up receiving a smack in the knee for his troubles, and he grunted as the skin pulled at the wound.
"Shut up." Ettie smirked, as she took a small bottle of antiseptic out of the small bag. "This'll sting like hell."
"Yeah, I know. Just do it," Sam muttered, bracing himself. Ettie opened the bottle, then poured the antiseptic over the wound.
Sam cried out as a white-hot pain burned across his shin, and he lurched forward and groaned. When his vision cleared, he saw Ettie keeping him steady with a firm grip on both his shoulders, looking at him with clear concern and disapprovement.
"And this is why we don't hide injuries from each other," she scolded him, and Sam could only give her a sheepish look in response. Considering the fact that she was originally supposed to be older than him, he still found it funny when she would go big sister mode on him.
It was only when Sam's leg was wrapped in a few layers of bandages that she finally relaxed. The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, along with the familiar scent of fresh bandages as Sam observed her handiwork. He looked up, giving her a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, sis."
"Don't mention it," she grunted, putting away the first aid kit. "You were stupid to assume I wouldn't help you in the first place."
Sam couldn't help laughing slightly. But then the door of the motel room suddenly opened, and his laughter was suddenly cut off as he froze in place. A few moments later, Dean entered.
"Hey," Dean called, as he entered holding a paper bag of food in one hand and some beer and energy drinks in another. Sam braced himself for however Dean would react once he noticed the bandages wrapping his leg, only to feel Ettie yank his pant leg back down quickly, obscuring it from his view. He barely refrained from looking at her in surprise. "Hey, Dean. I thought we were gonna go out for dinner?"
"Eh. Changed my mind." He frowned slightly as he noticed the expressions on Ettie's and Sam's faces. "The hell are you two up to now?"
"Nothing. Just… talking," Sam said, which was at least a half-truth. Dean nodded, still looking at them in suspicion. He clearly suspected that something else had happened but didn't push it, shrugging as he put the stuff he bought down onto the table. "Yeah… sure. I'll go take a shower, then we can get to researching."
"Yep," Ettie said, as Dean went into the bathroom. Their older brother shot them both one more narrow-eyed look before shutting the door. Once they both heard the shower turn on, Sam gave Ettie a confused look.
"I thought you wanted me to be honest."
"Yeah, I still do," Ettie responded with a shrug. "But you've dealt with enough overly-concerned siblings for today."
A grateful, rather amused smile spread across Sam's face at that. Then he grunted in surprise as Ettie suddenly smacked his arm. "Ow!"
"As long as you make sure to tell him soon. Or else I'm gonna, and we both know how much worse that'll go," she warned, and Sam rubbed his assaulted arm and nodded, rolling his eyes.
"Fine, fine. I will, I promise," he agreed reluctantly.
His little sister nodded firmly, squinting at him. "Good. You better. Nerd."
Sam just shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Punk."
Despite the aching pain in his shin, he felt a lot better now than he had the last few days. Yeah, he still had to tell them about his nightmares, and Dean about his injury. But that could wait. Plus, even if he had never doubted it once, it felt nice knowing that his sister still had his back even after the last two years. No matter how much either of them had changed, he was glad to know that this hadn't.