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Sam's ears were ringing.
The last this he remembered was the shifter had a gun, then a loud thud racked though his mind and now everything was dark.
He felt someone pat his face, the ringing letting up just enough for him to make out the muffled words of his big brother.
Sam opened his eyes to look at him. He was blurry. Like, really, really blurry. Everytime he blinked it made his brother's face just a little more clearer.
"Heya Sammy" he whispered, his voice sounding deeper against the sudden rustling silence that fell upon the cabin around them.
"Dea'..." Sam slurred, blinking slowly to try focus on his brother.
"Yeah" Dean smiled but his face was drenched in worry. "Yeah Sammy, I'm right here" he reassured, stroking a hand through Sam's hair, "I'm right here" he repeated, a little quieter..
"Wha-" Sam tried to pull himself up, but not only did Dean gently settle him back down, he couldn't help but tense up at a sharp, burning pain ripping though the left side of his hip.
"Hey hey hey hey" Dean fussed, rubbing his arm and stilling him with a hand on his chest. "You've been shot Sam" he said bluntly "and you took a pretty nasty blow to the head when you fell too".
Sam groaned, leaning his head towards Dean's hand, prompting Dean to lift it from Sam's shoulder and cup his little brother's face.
"It'll be ok though" he whispered, however the way he looked down at the would would have worried Sam if his eyes were open to see it. Dean swallowed as his eyes took in the wound.
He winced and got to work.
"Oh god Sammy" he breathed.
He'd already removed the bullet while Sam was semi conscious earlier, though, since he's so out of it, Sam didn't seem to notice.
He had been holding pressure on the would up until Sam has tried to sit up. Now was the next part.
Dean took a deep breath and let it out in a long cold stream though his mouth.
"Ok Sammy" he began "I'm...I'm just gonna splint your leg, ok? Cause it's gonna hurt like a bitch if you move it".
Sam weakly nodded, not like he had much of a choice, Dean wasn't exactly asking permission.
Sam just stared blankly while Dean tore down and ripped up some old curtains before he began to tie Sam's legs together in three points; at the hips- just under the wound, causing same to wince a bit. At the knees, and at the ankles.
As Dean finished the last knot, Sam managed a weak scoff.
"Isn't that a little over kill?" He croaked.
Dean stood back and admired his work.
"Yeah well" he panted "better safe than writhing in pain" he said, before approaching his little brother again and gently lifting him up right with his arm behind his shoulders.
"You ready? I'm gonna have to carry you" the older said.
Sam grunted as he adjusts himself against the floor "wheres Dad?"
"He's bringing the car up as close as he can, we're hoping to meet each other half way" Dean replied, as he adjusts himself as well, steadying his knees and anchoring his boots against the old wooden floor.
"You ok?" Sam asked, watching his brother take a shaky breath, holding his arms under Sam, but yet to pick him up.
"Fine" Dean replied taking another breath to settle himself before forcing a smile "great" he whispered, before he grunted as he pulled up Sam's full weight into his arms, leaning his overgrown baby brother into his chest.
"There you go" he whispered, beginning to stagger to the door, muttering reassuring nothings to Sam as he tracked out into the cold.
Sam realised that he has Dean's jacket draped over his torso, and being this close to Dean, it was easy to notice how he started to shiver.
Lips quivering as he continued to whisper nonsense to Sam like he was soothing a baby. It made Sam drell on fuzzy and mostly forgotten, and mostly second hand memories of late nights, where a much younger Dean would hold his baby brother to his chest and whisper to him until he settled down, insisting he could do it so Dad could rest just a little longer.
Sam could imagine how grateful John was for that.
Sam doesn't know how long it's been before he hears the car, and then the car door, and then John is over him, fussing over both him and the man holding him.
"Dammit Dean" John began "you're shivering" he huffed, shedding his own jacket to drape on Dean's shoulders, creating an endless cycle since now John must be cold.
"And so was Sammy" Dean defended, adjusting his grip on Sam. "He needed it more".
John sighed, reaching up to run his fingers through Dean's spikey hair. "I know" he breathed. "Come on" he patted Dean's shoulder, "get in the car" he said, before trudging over to the Impala and opening the back door.
Dean shuffled in, adjusting Sam into his lap and, letting his legs stretch out slowly before he pushed some hair out of his face.
"Seriously Sammy" he whispered "clippers man".
Sam, half conscious, groaned "uuugh, shut up" he mumbled, causing a chuckle out of his brother.
_____________
They reached the motel and Dean shuffled back out of the car with Sam in his arms, his legs almost buckled beneath him, causing John to perk up and rush over.
"I'm fine, I'm fine" Dean muttered.
"You're sure?" John asked.
Dean nodded.
"You better not be lying to me" his father warned, putting a hand around Dean to loosely hold him up as they strided to the room.
John turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, letting Dean stumble in first and put Sam down on the bed closest to the door- despite it being Dean's bed the night before.
Sam grunted and settled immediately into the mattress as Dean undid the splints.
John came over to take a closer look at Sam's wound. He sighed.
"I'll stitches him up Dean, you go have a shower" he said, beginning to dig around in his duffle to find the small med kit.
"No I'll stay here" Dean said, taking a seat on the bed meant to be Sam's. The two singles squeezed in the corner while John's double got the other side of the room.
As much as Dean's defiance annoyed John, it's not like it was an important order, plus his older son seemed so exhausted and likely hiding one kind of injury in favour of tending to Sam. John sighed and nodded.
"Just pass me what I tell ya to, ok" he grumbled, placing the kit on the bed beside Dean. Despite his grumbling, his tone was light. His boys weren't in any trouble, and they knew that. They knew what real trouble sounded like.
John worked slow enough to be gentle, but quick enough to get it over with.
Sam was whining and shifting. He was crying, but he was too exhausted to scream. Which relieved both John and Dean.
John cupped Sam's face when he was done, leaning in to whisper.
"You ok, baby?" He asked.
Sam seemed a little annoyed by the infantile nickname, but nodded anyway.
"Good" he said, patting his youngest shoulder gently before standing up and turning to Dean.
"Ok" he began "show me what you've done to yourself" he demanded.
"Huh?" Dean chuckled "I'm-I'm fine" he insisted.
"Mhm" John hummed "lay down Dean" he ordered.
This time Dean knew he had to listen. So, trying to hide a wince, he shifted onto his back and laid down, hands over his stomach.
John stepped forward, gently lifting Dean's hands away from his stomach and lifting his shirt. Inspecting the bruises forming around his side's and chest.
He sighed.
"All I can do is give some pills" he said.
"I'll be fine Dad, don't waste 'em" Dean insisted.
John was about to argue but then he took note of how little pills were left. He sighed heavier and looked back at Dean.
"Your sure?" He asked seriously.
"Very. Just had me some whiskey will ya?" He requested, straining to sit back up.
John sighed one more time, running a hand over his face as he strolled over to retrieve the liquor and two glasses. He sat down on the foot of the bed and poured a generous amount of liquid into the glasses before he handed one to Dean. Resting the bottle on the floor, he raised his cup.
Dean chuckled weakly and gave John's glass a gentle nudge with his own before he took a fairly big gulp of it.
He coughed a little as he swallowed it down.
"If you won't slow down with it, than I won't give it to ya" John teased.
"Oh bite me" Dean hissed with a slight smirk. It was rare he said something like that to Dad, but at the moment he knew he could, because his boys weren't in trouble.