Thanks for the continued reviews. I'm working on my tense/grammar issues, but the more I go back and try to correct things the worse it gets. So please excuse all errors and I hope you still enjoy. Mistakes are all mine. Now if I can just get my hands on those Winchester boys. Sigh. This is a short chapter. The next one will be extra long and I'm working on it now.
One second he is helping his sick brother out of his car. The next the steal surfaced roof of the Impala is greeting his forehead. Sam lets out a painful grunt as his head is forced back by his shaggy hair. He blinks against the black spots forming in his eyes.
Dean twists his fist in Sam's hair. "You are gonna die!" He growls in his confused state, slamming Sam's head yet again into the steal top of his ride. In his mind, the head is connecting with a wood topped bar, and it's not his brother he's inflicting pain on.
This time the side of his face connects on the edge of the roof. He cries out in agony as the flesh on his cheek rips open. He can vaguely hear hair being pulled from roots as Dean pulls his head back again.
"Deeeeaaaaaannnn sttooooppp," he begs. He pushes his body backwards off the Impala with his lanky arms in an attempt to pry Dean off of him. In his disoriented condition, he puts more steps and more weight into it than necessary. Legs and feet tangle together, arms flail as Dean meets the asphalt, Sam landing directly on top of him.
Air is forced out of his lungs in one painful burst as Sam lands on his busted ribs. His head slams back on rough blacktop sending him into darkness.
Gasping for air himself, Sam quickly rolls off of him, ready to put up a fight. One glance down at his brother he knows he's out cold. The street light above casts just enough light for him to see a small pool of blood beginning to grow around Dean's skull.
Elbow on concrete, he ignores the friction as he rubs the lump on his forehead. The left side of his face feels completely numb. "What is wrong with you Dean?" He whispers closing his eyes.
He waits a few minutes for the dizziness to subside before standing. He glances around and sighs with relief they are the only two in the parking lot. He's pretty sure he doesn't have the strength left to put this town in the rearview mirror.
He bends down over Dean's body and feels for a pulse. His fingers are greeted with a steady beat. If he wasn't so scared and confused with his brother's recent actions, he'd drag his body to their motel room by his hair. He'd let him see how it feels. Not that Dean's near buzz cut is long enough.
Instead he eases him to a sitting position by firmly grabbing his shoulder, the other hand held protectively behind his head to insure he doesn't strain his neck. His hand is instantly coated with warm sticky fluid. "You're going to be okay, Dean, I'm going to figure this out," he says to his unconscious brother. As he hoists him into a fireman's carry, he adds, "Don't you dare wake up and freak out on me now."
After unloading their bags and a few necessary items from the Impala's trunk, Sam gets to work. He looks over to Dean who is still out of it. He walks over to him, ropes in hand. He takes a long shuttering breath, assuring himself he needs to do this, for Dean's safety as well as his.
He already removed Dean's jacket before easing him down onto the mattress, face up. The wound on Dean's skull is deep and could use a couple stitches. However, it's an inch behind his right ear and he'll be able to manage by turning his head to the side.
He lifts Dean's right arm and holds it back against the bedpost. 'I'm sorry, Dean, this is for your own good," he tries to justify his actions. He notes fresh bruising around Dean's right wrist. His eyes shift to Dean's left wrist to find a set of matching, darkening fingerprints. He knows these weren't there earlier. "What have you gotten yourself into?" He pauses deep in thought for a brief moment then continues his task. He places several gauzes between Dean's wrists and the ropes just before tightening the bondage. He doesn't want to inflict more injury on Dean and knowing his brother, even when he's in his right mind, he's going to put up a struggle.
He repeats this process with his brother's ankles at the foot of the bed, tying both to the metal frame. He removes his shoes but leaves his socks on, eliminating the need for gauze to protect him from rope burns.
Just as he ties the last knot and stands Dean begins to stir.
"Hiissssssss," he sucks in a heavy shaky breath as his eyes slowly open. "Sa..." he clears his dry throat. It feels like someone crammed an entire cotton field down it. "Sammmmy?"
Sam looks down at his brother, attempting to put on his best poker face. "I'm right here, Dean."
Dean's eyes flicker open and closed a few times, adjusting to the light. "Sam... why does it feel," he takes another painful deep breath, "like someone ran me over... with my own car." Another painful gasp. "Sonuvabitch... my ribs hurt..."
"I fell on top of them. I probably did more damage to them... I'll ah... check them out. I also need to stitch your head wound, you are bleeding all over your pillow." Sam says in a flat tone, trying to keep emotion at bay. Sam watches the confusion in Dean's feverish eyes. He's giving him the same look he gave him back at the bar. It's not going to work this time.
"Fell on top... Sammy... what happened to you?" Dean takes in the bleeding gash on his brother's cheek and the enormous red goose egg on his forehead.
"Let me guess, you don't remember?" Sam's voice breaks with emotion, tears automatically threatening to surface.
Dean winces as he tries to sit up. "Remember what Sammy?" He tugs on his right arm and when he can't free it, he glances over his shoulder. He stares at his own wrist tied to the bedpost for several long seconds before tugging again, as if the action will make the ropes magically fall off. He turns to look back at Sam, betrayal in his eyes. "What the fuck, Sammy?" Dean's voice squeaks with shock. He continues to stare into Sam's eyes as he tugs with his left arm, ignoring the piercing pain that travels from his jolted ribs all the way up both arms, back down into his brain.
"You're sick," Sam responds, a single tear running down his cheek. It stings when it enters his fresh cut. It doesn't sting nearly as bad as the look Dean is giving him right now.
Dean's eyes darken, his bottom lip quivering as he begins to test the ankle restraints one at a time with jerky movements.
"It's no use, Dean. You taught me how to tie knots, remember that?" Sam sniffles, running his palm across both eyes in a feeble attempt to hide tears. He knows now is not the time to show weakness but he can't help it.
Dean tugs a few more times at the ropes, a guttural growl escaping his throat as his head falls back onto the pillow. "Untie me Sam. Untie me now or so help me God..."
"What, Dean? What are you going to do? Attack me again? Try to kill me? You know this makes the second time? Three strikes I'm out, is that it?" Sam says, heading over to the other bed for the first aid kit.
Dean's quite for a minute. "Second time?" He rolls his head to the side. "I did that to you?"
Sam remains silent as he rounds the bed, easing to his knees he sets the kit on the floor and opens it, not answering Dean's question. He doesn't have to.
"I know, you can't remember it. It's not your fault," Sam reaches up and turns Dean's head placing a thick stack of gauze over the bleeding wound on his head.
Dean flinches and rolls his head back to face him. "I swear to you Sam. I don't remember doing that to you," he swallows hard, "Sam, what's wrong with me?"
"I don't know. I wish I did," he tries to push Dean's head back to the side gently but Dean stiffens his neck.